JULIE BURCHILL: The ‘homicidal empathy’ of the Islamo-left.

We certainly see a massive dose of suicidal empathy among the Islamo-left, from Queers for Palestine – often mocked as Turkeys for Christmas – to Owen Jones. Jones probably thinks that he’s so unique that he could sprout wings and fly if he got thrown off a Gazan roof by the local gay-haters. Do these fools honestly believe that the facts about Hamas hating homosexuals are Israeli propaganda? Or are they so bound up in The Wonder Of Me, so convinced of their exceptionalism, that they are as deluded as that strange girl on TikTok, who mused on how she would be treated if taken hostage by Hamas: ‘They would probably comfort me, make sure I had medical attention, make sure I was doing okay…’

The message is loud, clear and strikingly ignorant. Other women / gays / infidels may get raped and / or murdered, but those big angry men would see me as special. We assume that such people are simply thick, or perhaps suffering from extreme narcissistic exceptionalism. A lot of them are mad at their parents and are acting up or acting out. Is it performative social masochism, in which liberal young white folk seek to outdo each other as if in some silly and sinister sport?

As Mark Steyn wrote 20 years ago, “our tolerance of our own tolerance is making us intolerant of other people’s intolerance, which is intolerable. And, unlikely as it sounds, this has now become the highest, most rarefied form of multiculturalism. So you’re nice to gays and the Inuit? Big deal. Anyone can be tolerant of fellows like that, but tolerance of intolerance gives an even more intense frisson of pleasure to the multiculti masochists.”

The Islamo-left’s “homicidal empathy,” as Burchill dubs it, leaves them little empathy for its victims: The face of France’s far-Left madness: Pro-Palestine ‘feminist’ tells woman who was threatened with rape during French protests that she is ‘collateral damage.’

But then, this is nothing new; in his 1945 essay “Catastrophic Gradualism,” George Orwell famously noted that when it comes to his fellow leftists:

The formula usually employed is ‘You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.’ And if one replies, ‘Yes, but where is the omelette?’, the answer is likely to be: ‘Oh well, you can’t expect everything to happen all in a moment.’

When the omelette finally arrives though, it will definitely be halal.

OH, TO BE IN ENGLAND:

Remain indoors, and Do Not Think of The Event:

 

24-YEAR-OLD COAST GUARD SWIMMER SAYS HE FOUGHT WAVES AND DARKNESS TO RESCUE 16 PEOPLE FROM OCEAN:

Strapped into a harness, Josh Law was lowered from a U.S. Coast Guard helicopter into the rough Pacific Ocean in the pitch black night, far off the Mexican coast.

The force of the helicopter blades pummeled the water, whipping up spray and turbulence. The Coast Guard rescue swimmer couldn’t hear anything over the noise or see anything in the darkness. Waves of 6 to 8 feet (1.8 to 2.4 meters) hit him.

All he could do was follow the searchlight from the helicopter with the hope it would lead him to the more than two dozen people flung into the cold waters some 140 miles (225 kilometers) off the coast of Mexico’s Baja peninsula. He would personally rescue 16 of them.

“I was experiencing exhaustion at that point,” Law, 24, told The Associated Press in his first interview since the rescue. “We had very little sleep. But what I was experiencing was nothing compared to what they were at that point … I just had to keep that in mind.”

The most righteous of the right stuff, as Tom Wolfe would say:

 

GREAT MOMENTS IN OIKOPHOBIA: Obama mocks Trump’s White House as looking like ‘Saddam Hussein opened a Cheesecake Factory’ in brutal campaign trail swipe.

I’m not a big fan of Trump’s aesthetics, including all of the gold filigree he’s added to the Oval Office. But it certainly beats the hideous Death Star Flak Tower that Barry signed off on:

It’s also fun to see BHO having a raging case of TDS:

FROM CHRISTOPHER DIGRAZIA:  Ten Thousand Midnights: A Theda Bara Mystery

 

Hollywood, 1922. Paramount Pictures director William Desmond Taylor lies dead in his apartment, a bullet in his back. Baffled by multiple suspects and blind alleys, the LAPD turn to silent star Theda Bara for help. With her loyal friend, makeup artist Toby Swanson, she delves into the dark corners of Tinseltown to uncover Taylor’s killer. Fellow stars Mabel Normand and Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle hold pieces of the puzzle, but Paramount chief Adolph Zukor is determined to hide the secret of Taylor’s murder at any cost. . .even if it means silencing Bara forever.

From the author of The Director’s Cut and The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of comes the third entry in the mystery series that Emmy Award-winning screenwriter Robert J. Avrech praised as making Theda Bara ‘a living, breathing woman.’

I’m a fan of this series, and I’ve been waiting for this book such a long time!

 

 

 

IF YOU’RE CONSIDERING SITTING THE ELECTION OUT, REMEMBER HOW WE COULDN’T SPEAK OF THIS?  Hunter Biden threatened sex worker after 2020 election while embroiled in laptop scandal: new FBI emails.

I might disagree with the administration here and there, and yeah, things could be better (it could be raining chocolate!) but seriously, remember when the autopen administration tried to install a MinTrue? And stomped on social media till you couldn’t say boo? If it seems like a bad dream, be aware it wasn’t. And it could come back.