There are times when my natural cynicism rises to the top, and there’s nothing I can do to control it.
That often happens when it concerns those of radical Islamic persuasion and the useful tools of the Western world. That over-educated, elitist faction of diplomats and know-it-alls populating a healthy segment of our ruling bureaucracy – many of them powerful and unelected. The very ones who kept bending over to accommodate slaughtering Jihadi savages with a long track record of monstrous deeds and a trail of brutalized bodies behind them, as long as said fanatics would occasionally be beaten into a moment of submission and, needing time to rearm and recuperate, would make murmuring noises at the mewling idiots about meeting them somewhere cushy and maybe toke a hash pipe or two together.
Talk peace when Jihadis always mean pieces.
But our glad-handing,…
