Journalists and Jihadis at The American Thinker

Muslim sensitivities everywhere are now more important than truth or justice anywhere.  Alas, France and many other naïve Europeans have surrendered pride and identity to Brussels and in turn volunteered to be colonized by a 5th column of A….

Read more of G. Murphy Donovan’s excellent article!


Filed under Culture Wars, Foreign Policy, Islam, Terrorism, The Media

2 responses to “Journalists and Jihadis at The American Thinker

  1. Back when I was writing a regular opinion column for the local regional newspaper I did a column condemning Iran’s Ayatollah Kohmeni for issuing a death fatwah on Salman Rushdie, the British author of the satirical novel about Mohammand, “The Satanic Verses”. I was interested to see what all of the fuss was about and so I went down to the local bookstore in my little university town and asked my friend Bob, the owner, if he had any copies. He looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear us… “I have two copies under the counter”, he whispered, “But I am afraid to put them out on the shelves or to display one of them in the window because I don’t want the store fire-bombed.” (We have two major universities within 8 miles of each other here in the Idaho Panhandle, one in ID and one in WA. Both had sizable Muslim minority faculty and student populations, and there are small mosques in both towns.)

    This disturbed me, so I wrote the column, saying, amongst other things, that as an American with guaranteed 1st Amendment rights I objected to a tin-pot, religious zealot dictator from some 3rd World country dictating to me what I could and could not read, and threatening violence it they didn’t get their way. The column came out on a Tuesday. On Wednesday, as I was home eating my lunch, the phone rang. I voice I did not recognize, with an Arab accent, asked me if I was me, and if I was the one who had written the column. I said, “Yes, that’s me.” Then the guy on the phone said, “Those who support the blasphemer and blaspheme the Ayatollah will meet the blasphemer’s fate.” I thought for a moment, taken aback, and then did what came naturally, and told him, “Go to hell”, and hung up.

    My puckish sense of humor came to the fore and I called my editor at the local paper, told him, “Don’t open any ticking packages”, and related the telephone call to him. He was exercised. “Have you called the police”, he asked? I told him no, because it was probably just some undergraduate or graduate student blowing off steam. He replied, “You can’t play it that way. I know that you are a Marine, but you also have a wife and daughter! If you don’t call the police I will!” So I called the local police. They sent out a detective to take a statement, and then they contacted the phone company to put a “trap” on my phone so they could track any additional phone calls. They told me to take the threat seriously, and to be careful.

    And then I got to thinking, and when I did that, I got madder and madder. I called my editor. I called my bookstore buddy. I borrowed a copy of the book. I called the City and rented the largest public venue in town. I called the local radio station. I told the appropriate people that I was going to do a public reading of “The Satanic Verses” so that anyone in the community who wanted to could come and see what all of the excitement was about. I offered to let anyone who wanted to exercise their 1st Amendment rights along with me to call me and sign up to help me read it in public. I listed my telephone number: it was in the local telephone book anyway. Response was overwhelming. Within a week I was out of book chapters and had to cut off sign-ups. Everyone from plumbers to PhDs signed up.

    The day came and the hall was overflowing. There was horsetrading going on in the back between people who were on the list to read and others who wanted to, and were cutting deals for portions of chapters. The local police chief assigned an armed plainclothes detective as my bodyguard. I have the newspaper clippings of the event, which shows me at the podium in kakhi slacks, a button-down blue Oxford-cloth dress shirt, a tie and a sweater vest—the vest was obscuring a compact .45 in a concealment belt holster high on my hip. It also shows a stool next to the podium with a briefcase on it. A larger .45 and an extra clip resided therin. (Armed friends were guarding my house and family on the other side of town…)

    The local people came. The police—local, Sheriff and Idaho State Patrol—came. Dozens of sign-carrying, loudly-chanting Islamic demonstrators came and paraded up and down the sidewalks. Reporters—newspaper and T.V., with their crews—came. I read the first chapter. My publisher read the 2nd, my editor read the 3rd, and so on down the line. No one got shot, no one got blown up.

    I put a large old pickle jar on the back table of the hall with a sign on it that read, “Help pay for the cost of the hall”. It filled up. There was enough money in it to pay for the rental and enough left over to purchase both copies of the book available, which I donated to the local Library. (I was on the Library Board at the time…)

    It was small-town America at its best, and I was proud to have been a part of it.

  2. JK

    As I recall Kinnison you’re at the moment across the pond?

    I’ve not checked the weather over there – here in Arkansas I’m eagerly awaiting our first snow. Normally, as the kids’ve grown and moved fairly far away, I’d consider myself a little too *mature* for this sort of stuff but since it’s apparently also forbidden (don’t know it’s been officially fatwa’d admittedly) but come snow I’m gonna go all out.

    Should you run into any blizzards .. well, something to do …

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