Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Violent Politics

Progressives and ISIS have
 the same perception of reality as a snake's.
Try to imagine the metaphysics of a deadly snake.

Existence exists. You know that. But does a snake?

On May 18th Tucker Carlson on Fox Insider News delivered what must be one of the most poignant and hard-hitting warnings voiced by a newscaster about today’s trend to settling political disputes with violence. It was a delivery that reflects a cogent, thinking mind, a virtue we don’t usually associate with TV newscasters:

The modern left is no longer an ideological movement. Instead it's an organized movement around identity politics," Tucker said on tonight's show.

He warned that dividing Americans into "sub-groups" and promoting "tribalism" is dangerous for our democracy.

He said that modern progressives don't want to argue and have a reasonable discussion. They want their "team" to win, and some of them are willing to use violence to do so, as we've recently seen at protests across the country.

"Violence is what separates politics from war," Tucker said. "It's when hurt feelings become dead bodies, the point at which countries become ungovernable."
He noted that he's recently had progressives on his program, and when pressed, they refused to condemn political violence.

He concluded that "we are in danger" as long as that's the case.

In truth, the Progressives and Antifa thugs have no “identity” to speak of. It could be an amalgam of disparate groups. I am “anti-Trump” and violence is what I do. As Greg Gutfield writes, also on Fox:

On its ever changing face, identity politics seemed pretty innocuous. It’s simply a way of unifying your demands among a similar group of people. 

We’ve seen it take all shapes: There’s identity politics based on race, gender, disability and religion. There are loads of others -- some so unusual they beggar belief (there are people who now identify as animals, for example. Sometimes, I feel that I am one of them).

But as identity politics expanded, infecting campus life, political agendas and self-absorbed acceptance speeches at award shows, we saw something strange and wonderful happen….

2017 may have been that year when identity politics hit a brick wall, and slumped limply on the pavement.

But what prompts Progressives and their “foot soldiers” – the ones who riot, destroy property, shout down speakers with impunity, and physically assault anyone who dissents – to close their minds to any rational, civil discourse on the issues that seem to excite them to foam-flecked madness?

I have taken to characterizing Progressive/University behavior to that of cobras or rattlesnakes. Snakes do not think; in terms of teleology, they are “programmed” to respond to stimuli such as heat or a moving body, at which they will strike, to kill and/or consume. To a predator snake, all moving bodies pose a threat or an opportunity for a meal. Snakes do not pause to think about the body; there is no appraisal of it at all. The consciousness of a snake is not volitional. A snake cannot, by its nature, have values. Progressives champion no fixed ideology but chaos. They are prime candidates for herpetological study.

But this is what Progressives, members of Antifa, and so on, have reduced themselves to, making themselves less than human. If snakes could think or speak, this is what they’d say: “I am a snake, and this is what I do.” As one correspondent put it:

The point is that the Left, [including] the nihilists, are ideologically blinded by intentionally cutting themselves off from reality and the facts. They end up embracing nonsense because, ideologically, they have no recourse to facts to sort out what is truth and what is farce, malevolent and otherwise, including what is just plain silly.

The true symbol of ISIS;
its colors are also Antifa’s.
Snakes cannot know what is silly or what is not. They are purely reactionary in their behavior. Reality is a snake’s environment but it is not able to consciously evaluate it. A snake can be conscious but unconscious of what anything is, including itself. It can only respond automatically, per its programmed nature. If it grows cold, it will seek warmth. Not finding warmth, it will die. If it basks on a rock in the sun, it will seek a cooler place if it grows too hot. Otherwise its programmed nature compels it to find a cooler spot before it bakes.

Leftists have trained themselves – by rote, via programming – to respond to specific stimuli. Responding to stimuli is the only alternative they have left themselves because they have willingly sabotaged their own minds, or let their teachers determine their content. They have been assisted in reducing their minds to merely stimulus-activating vehicles by their Progressive teachers from kindergarten to graduate school.

They have not been taught how to think. To think is to evaluate facts. But facts, they have been taught, are merely socially or racially constructed and are purely arbitrary, and oppressive, and to be automatically dismissed in favor of action. Facts can be whatever they have been taught is not. The mind is not volitional, they have been taught by their teachers. The mind is a product of environmental conditioning. Volition is a racist construct. This is pure Marxism. There’s no use in asking: But don’t they respond to the evidence of their senses?

The evidence of their senses no longer counts for anything. Like many birds, such as parrots or cockatoos, they will, with repetitive couching, “learn” to produce desired sounds on cue. If a cockatoo says “Pretty birdie” it doesn’t know the meaning of the words pronounced by its owner. It’s simply responding to the stimulus of a certain sound. When an Indian snake charmer produces certain sounds, a cobra simply responds to a sound that literally means nothing to it, and will rise from a vase and appear to be mesmerized.

The sound of “Trump  Supporter,” or “Freedom of Speech,” are mere sounds to them, or it will be simply the sight of a person or a sign that will “trigger” a violent response. The mere sight of a pro-Trump sign or hat will “trigger” their attacks. Progressives and Antifa thugs are the ultimate, end results of Pavlovian experimentation.

Will the Progressives ever abandon or eschew violence? Disown or reproach any fellow Progressives or nihilists who resort to it?  Can Progressives and Antifa thugs be trained not to fly off the handle upon hearing the names of Ann Coulter, or Milo Yiannopoulos or Heather McDonald?

Can snakes be trained not to strike? No?

The malevolent, anti-man virus is embedded so deeply in what passes for their minds, that the next best condition for them is non-existence, or death.

The Progressives are beyond reason, beyond reality.

When confronted with their demands, the best answer would be a resounding “NO!” and if they press the issue with their  fists, pepper spray, or sticks, is to retaliate in kind, and make sure they don’t get up again to renew their assaults.

President Trump got it almost right in his Riyadh speech to Muslim state leaders:

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia (CNN)President Donald Trump looked to make clear that the United States is not at war with Islam in a major speech here on Sunday, instead defining the battle against terrorist groups as a "battle between good and evil" as he urged Muslim-majority countries to redouble their counterterrorism efforts.

"This is not a battle between different faiths, different sects or different civilizations," Trump said. "This is a battle between barbaric criminals who seek to obliterate human life, and decent people of all religions who seek to protect it. This is a battle between good and evil."

"Drive them out," Trump said. "Drive out the terrorists. Drive out the extremists. Drive them out of your places of worship. Drive them out of your communities. Drive them out of your holy land and drive them out of this Earth."

ISIS makes war on the defenseless. In a
Real war against us it would lose.
In one sense, the jihadists are not “losers.” They destroyed the youth and future of a nation, in the form of the 22 people (I think there were one or two men). The “grooming” gangs of Britain, which continue raping young British girls unabated, are a form of jihad, because all of the rapists are Muslims. But the authorities are reluctant to pursue them lest they be called “racists,” even though Islam is not a race. Theresa May should face up to that simple logic. But it’s the groomers who are the racists, because they target British white girls to reduce them to what they call “slags.” The purpose of the groomers is to humiliate the victims, to degrade them.

However, in the larger sense, Trump is right: the jihadists are “losers.” They can only successfully make war on defenseless civilians, on children, who are unable to fight back. Pitted against a military that knows how to conduct a war – and we certainly do when we mean business – they become losers.

But there is no such thing as Islamic “extremism.” There is only Islam – if Islam is to be little more than a laughable California fringe cult. Islam commands the death or maiming of anyone who is not Muslim – such as over a dozen of infidel “Crusaders” attending a pop singer’s concert (don’t forget the Bataclan massacre and torture in Paris).

The Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) claimed responsibility for Monday night's suicide bombing in a generic statement posted online. CBS News confirmed Tuesday that the man who blew himself up outside the Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, England was 22-year-old Salman Abedi, who was known to British authorities prior to the attack. 

Some of the Manchester victims; not
exactly “Crusaders” are they?
The best way to combat snake attacks is to cut off the snake’s head. The Progressives and their natural allies, Antifa and similar gangs of thugs are a domestic alliance; ISIS is an international gang of nihilists that must be erased from the face of the earth; our taking no prisoners should not  lead to a comfortable life at Guantanamo. All members of ISIS, if captured, should be executed on the spot. There isn't a one who hasn’t boasted of rape, torture, or murder. Not a one deserves to ever breathe air again.

Pamela Geller got it right:

Brace yourself for jihad attack part two in the information battle-space, as jihad spox groups such as CAIR, ISNA, MSA, etc. take control of a Sharia-compliant media and proselytize and lecture us on “fear of reprisals” and “backlashophobia” while clubbing us bloody with the mind-numbing mantra that “Islam is peace.”

Strike terror into the hearts of the unbelievers (Quran 8:12)
Therefore strike off their heads and strike off every fingertip of them (Quran 8:12)
The Qur’an guarantees Paradise to those who “kill and are killed” for Allah (9:111)

Rather: Strike terror into the hearts of ISIS. And then finish the job.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

The Black Stone Excerpted

In defiance of former President Barack Obama’s September 25th 2012 dictum to the General Assembly of the United Nations that “The future must not belong to those who slander the prophet of Islam,” that’s my cue to slander, Mohammad, Islamic snowflakes, and Islam. He said more or less the same in June 2009 in Cairo during his pontificating, cliché-rich address at Al-Azhar University, in front of an audience of turbaned and rag-headed Islamic clerics and officials.

Since its original publication in 2014, my detective novel, The Black Stone , set in San Francisco in 1930, has experienced continuing sales in its print, Kindle and Audible editions. In terms of excoriating Islam, however, it was preceded by a suspense novel, We Three Kings, set in our time in New York City, in which an American entrepreneur, Merritt Fury, is thrown to the Saudi wolves who have been granted carte blanche to deal with him as they pleased. It was written in 1980 but not published until 2010. It, too, has enjoyed continuing sales.

While in We Three Kings the hero knows who his enemy is, a member of the Wahhabist Saudi royal family, in The Black Stone Islam is a new nemesis to the hero, new to the police, new to American politicians, new to the FBI, new to virtually everyone.  The Muslim Brotherhood was only a few years old, founded in 1922 by Hassan al-Banna as a private association of Egyptian Muslims obsessed with the austere, alleged purity of Islamic doctrine and practice, and was late in 1928, reorganized into a political organization that has been active in Egyptian politics since the early 20th century.

As a relatively new activist organization, the Brotherhood had its tentacles almost everywhere in Mideast political life. The Brotherhood was hostile to everything Western to modernization, to living on earth. It is basically a death cult. When it speaks of “peace,” it is the quietude of death; that is, it will bring “peace” to Muslims when they are no longer annoyed by the existence of infidels, Jews, and other unbelievers and no longer need to wage jihad on Western civilization, which the Brotherhood wishes to extinguish..

Initially hostile to the Muslim Brotherhood which it regarded as an enemy, Saudi Arabia has become its ally and funder.

Wahhabism is named after an eighteenth-century preacher and activist, Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab (1703–1792). He started a reform movement in the remote, sparsely populated region of Najd, advocating a purging of such widespread Sunni practices as the veneration of saints, the seeking of their intercession, and the visiting of their tombs, all of which were practiced all over the Islamic world, but which he considered idolatry (shirk), impurities and innovations in Islam (Bid'ah). Eventually he formed a pact with a local leader Muhammad bin Saud offering political obedience and promising that protection and propagation of the Wahhabi movement mean "power and glory" and rule of "lands and men."

I feature the cover of The Black Stone in my December 2015 column, “Islam in Contemporary Fiction,” but do not discuss the novel. So, here are some excerpts
At the request of a local rabbi and scholar, Skeen is investigating the brutal murder of a young Jewish girl, the client’s daughter. Set in San Francisco, the crime is unlike anything he’s ever dealt with before. He knows little or nothing about Islam, only that there are such creatures as “Moslems.” What little he knows he had learned from newspaper accounts of Moslem atrocities committed on Jews, Armenians, and Christians in the Middle East. At one point, he is sitting for his wife, Dilys, an artist, as she sketches him for a planned painting.

            Skeen said, "I've been dipping in the Koran. It's worse than the Bible in many respects. Utterly schizophrenic in parts. One moment you're being urged to behave like St. Francis, and be kind to all animals, even Jews and other infidels. The next it's inveighing against Jews and other infidels, calling for their extermination. It's beginning to read like a manual for a career in sadomasochism, authored apparently by a person currently incarcerated in Sing Sing, and provided with a liberal and lifetime supply of cannabis or some other hallucinatory pharmaceutical product. You know, one of those serial killer convicts who finds religion."

            Dilys said, "Surely you're exaggerating."

            Skeen shook his head. "Remember that my sole encounters with Islam in the past were two of Mr. Winston Churchill's books about his experiences in the Sudan and the Indian Northern Frontier in which he describes Moslems, or Mohammedans, or Muslims and their practices and fanaticism, then my declining an invitation to join the Ancient Arabic Order of the Noble Shriners last year – can you picture me wearing a red fez decorated with mystical symbols? – "

            "No, I couldn't," replied Dilys. "And stop moving your head so much."

            "—and occasionally passing the Temple Islam on Geary Street on my usual rounds of investigation." Skeen paused. "Or is that the Odd Fellows Hall?"

The Walking Dead’s  Negan’s spiritual ancestor,
Hassan al-Banna, who would also like to knight
you with a baseball bat sheathed barbed wire.
       "Sounds as though the Ancient Arabic Order and the Odd Fellows are connected, and have as much to do with Islam as do the Boy Scouts."

            "Anyway, that being my past exposure to Islam, reading about it in such detail is an eye-opener."

            "Move your head, please, to the right, just a smidgen."

            Skeen obliged. "In the one Philby book I discovered the Saudi Ikhwan – "

            "The icky one?" asked Dilys, pausing to scrutinize her husband's face for a moment.

            "The Ikhwan," repeated Skeen, spelling the term. "Plural for Moslem 'brothers.' Tribal allies of this Saudi king. They're Wahhabists, sticklers for pure Islam."

            Again, Dilys looked incredulous. "Wahhabists? As in the Wabash River? Or should it be the Swanee?"

            "No, not quite. I'm not sure of how to pronounce it, either. Say! I think I'll use that phrase of yours the next time anyone asks me about the Ikhwan."

            "What phrase?"

            "The icky ones."

            Dilys shrugged. "I thought that was what you said. You're welcome to it."

            "According to Philby and Picket, they're first-class throat cutters. Very similar to the Thugees of India, who were stranglers." Skeen chuckled. "That would be a sight. Allah versus Kali. More interesting than both Dempsey-Tunney fights. Kali, you see, would have twice the punching power."


            "She'd have four arms. She could deliver a double sucker punch. I wouldn't put my money on Allah."

            "I'm not a betting woman."

            Skeen paused before replying. "You bet on me."

            Dilys shook her head. "No, I didn't. I set my cap for you the moment I laid eyes on you." She sighed. "I'm finished here. You can go back to your icky ones and the Wabashites."

At another point in the story, Dilys and Skeen are having breakfast:

"Did you know," Skeen asked casually over breakfast the next morning, "that Mohammedans, when they go on a pilgrimage to Mecca, must walk counter-clockwise around the Kaaba seven times, and run between some hills looking for water, and perform a schedule of other rituals, all designed to make them feel like silly, worthless asses?"

 "Kaaba?" asked Dilys, who was paying only half attention to her husband. "Sounds like a Greek dish, smothered in the finest feta cheese sauce, and best served with ouzo." She was reading the morning Observer-World. She had fixed a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Skeen had just poured himself a second coffee and was on his first cigarette of the day. He was reading from notes he had made last night in his study and had passed the newspaper over to Dilys.

"The Kaaba," read Skeen, "is a cube-like structure smack in the middle of an open-air mosque about the size of Kezar Stadium, about forty-four feet high and fifty in length. Other scholars reverse the dimensions. It is built of granite on the outside, marble on the inside. It sits on a spot, according to Mohammedan lore, that Allah designated that Adam and Eve should build a temple, or an altar." Skeen paused. "Of course, that story must have been concocted after the Kaaba had been a pagan shrine for an undetermined number of centuries, housing scores of other deities. Allah's own genealogical antecedents seem to be rooted in a moon god of fecundity."

Dilys looked up from the newspaper. She said, wearing an incredulous but amused frown, "You're making that up."

Skeen chuckled. "No, I'm not. It's all in the encyclopedia."

Dilys shook her head. "I know you're not. Forgive me for saying, but it still sounds like you're ad-libbing."

Skeen smiled wickedly. "Great material for a stand-up comedy monologue at the Fantasma Theater." He went on. "The Kaaba is skirted by an enormous black silk table cloth, with Koranic verses embroidered in gold, high enough out of reach of light-fingered pilgrims." He paused. "Presumably, the roof is bare, but somehow water-proofed. All in all, the Kaaba that exists today is just one of several that have been built, destroyed, collapsed by floods, damaged in war, redesigned, and gussied up ever since it probably began as a stone shanty erected by heathens thousands of years ago, housing wart-nosed witches they probably called vestal virgins, visited by decrepit old priests who performed Masonic-like rites over bowls of foul-smelling incense."

Not a tea party: Hassan al-Banana, second from the left.
 “Big Al” to his fellow fez heads.
Dilys chuckled. "I can just picture it now. Thousands of the heathen votary doing a syncopated conga around the place to a mad drum beat. Some cranky old priest on the roof with a megaphone acts as a cheerleader, prompting them to shout en masse some obscene imprecation in Arabic, or whatever they spoke back then." 

"A very fine parody, darling," said Skeen, "worthy of Cecil B. DeMille's talents." He continued reading. "Today, observers write, about one hundred thousand pilgrims perform the Hajj annually." 

Dilys looked up from the newspaper again. "Hodge? As in hodge-podge?"

Skeen shrugged. "I suppose so. Or perhaps it it's 'Hadge,' as in 'badge.' There was no pronunciation guide in the encyclopedia." He frowned. "As for Mecca, historians and cartographers aren’t even sure the place existed when the alleged prophet, Mohammad, or Muhammad, is said to have graced the Kaaba with his presence and laid the Black Stone. They think it might have been a backwater town, a kind of camel stop, noted by Ptolemy, called Macoraba. Which, in turn, raises a question mark over the existence of Mohammad himself. It's all quite hilarious." Skeen put aside his notes. "And that's all I was able to glean from my sources here." He finished his coffee. "I'll be going downtown today to find more books on Islam. Care to come along?" 

Dilys shook her head. "No, thank you. I want to work on 'Phryne' and address some issues about her audience." She frowned again. "Why this sudden interest in Islam?"

"Professor Lerner advised me to look into it."

Later in the novel, Skeen discusses Islam and “Moslems” and the murder of a New York reporter in the city over lunch in a restaurant with Mickey Kane, a local newspaper reporter.

Skeen said, "I think Moslems were behind the murders. Or Mohammadans. Muslims. Muhammadans, or Mahometans. Take your pick." 

Kane replied, "Now you've lost me. I know nothing about them. How many names do they got any way?"
"Just those, that I know of. And I didn't know much about them or their creed, either, until Professor Lerner suggested that I read up on Islam, which I did over the weekend. It's his contention that the person or persons who killed his daughter were Moslems. Bodily mutilation is their modus operandi, he said, when the issue is differences about religion. Sometimes even race. And these two murders fit it."

"How so?"

"In the realm of Islamic justice, a thief's hand or both hands can be cut off. But Dwyer got the whole business because he wasn’t a Moslem. His head was removed, probably while he was still alive."

"And Rachel Lerner got it because she was a Jew?"

Skeen nodded. "But whoever was responsible for Dwyer was after information. Thus the torture. What was his killer after? Did he succeed in getting what he wanted from Dwyer?"

Their lunches came then. They silently agreed to discuss other things while they ate. Kane gave Skeen a colorful description of Klamath Falls (where he had just vacationed). 

Kane finished his sandwich last, and went for another coffee. When he returned, he asked Skeen, "So, fill me in on these Mummers."

Skeen chuckled. "Mohammedans. Or Moslems. You can look up all the variations at the library." He lit a cigarette and briefly described Islam and its fundamental tenets and rules.

Kane looked incredulous, but he believed what Skeen had told him. "What a bunch of crackers!" he said. "Do these guys also speak in tongues, and roll on the ground, and foam at the mouth?"

"They probably speak Arabic, for starters. At least, that's what the Koran is written in, although there's evidence it was originally penned in Aramaic. They pray five times a day, on their hands and knees, and bang their foreheads on the ground or floor. As for foaming at the mouth, that seems to happen when they're on the warpath, or beating their wives, or cutting men's throats." 

"And this Catawba in Mecca, these pilgrims run around it seven times and kiss something called the Black Stone? Is that anything like the Blarney Stone? You kiss it and you're given the gift of gab?"

Skeen chuckled again. Kane was just as amusing as was Dilys. "It's the Kaaba, and I don’t know of any purpose in kissing the Stone, other than to prove you have a rock fetish, are not a little addled, and wish to be in the company of a multitude of fools."

"Do you think any of these Catawbans live here?"

Skeen shook his head. "It's doubtful." 

"That Hajj pilgrimage you described: It sounds like one long college fraternity initiation."
Partners in Islamic crime: Sayyid Qutb, the theorist of Islamic purity;
And Hassan al-Banna, founder of the Muslim Brotherhood.
Kane sighed. "Well, I think I'll read up on this gang, too. Library, here I come." He put out his Lucky Strike. "But where can you take it from here? What can you do about it? I mean, suppose it wasn't a genuine Catawban who killed the Lerner girl and Dwyer, but someone who wants everyone to think it was?"

"It's a good question, Mickey, and I don’t have an answer. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps never."  He paused. "Would you make me a copy of the Dwyer note?"

"No problem. I'll send it to your office later today." Kane glanced at his watch. He collected the Dwyer note and returned it to his envelope. "I gotta get back to the paper. I'm working on a story about a guy who tried to rob a trolley conductor of his day's fares yesterday, and got the hell beat out of him."


More murders are committed, all pointing to Muslims as the perpetrators, and the murderer himself is murdered to keep him quiet about the identity of his partners in homicide. By novel’s end Skeen has solved the crimes, and recovered the priceless relic sought by the Brotherhood operatives.

It has a just fate in Skeen’s hands. He gives it away to a bankrupted businessman he encounters near a Depression-era “Hooverville” in the city.

Enjoy the novel. There’s much more in it.

Monday, May 15, 2017

Monsters are the Real Victims

Norman Bates: Mother or Allah told me to carve you up.
Some of you may have observed over the years – perhaps over the decades – that when Hollywood releases a new monster movie that features rampaging “cage –free” dinosaurs or other monsters, it is the reptiles and other hostile beasts that get any sympathetic treatment. It rarely fails, whether it’s Godzilla or talking simians, man is usually the offender and sinner. This has been going on for decades, ever since the first King Kong film debuted in 1933 (actually, in literature, since at least the 19th century). It doesn’t seem to matter how horrible (or implausible) the monster is portrayed –the number of its human victims who are crushed into two dimensions or torn to pieces or chomped on is immaterial.

Kong escapes and climbs the Empire State Building, only to fall from the skyscraper after being attacked by airplanes with guns. Denham [the explorer character who brings Kong to New York City] comments, "It was beauty killed the beast," for he climbs the building in the first place only in an attempt to protect Ann Darrow, an actress originally offered up to Kong on Skull Island as a sacrifice.

But the very first time I saw the film, in an old movie revival house in New York City years ago (in the 1960s), someone in the audience retorted, angrily and loudly, “No! You killed him!” Obviously, that audience member was fascinated by Kong, perhaps even in love with the idea that Kong was “larger than life” – that is, larger than man. He had somewhere, somehow, been taught to hold contempt for man and for himself.

That retort has always stuck in my mind. It was a clue to something larger than a film about an oversized ape going berserk.

Psycho: The inspiration behind Muslim stabbing attacks?
The theme has almost consistently been that when man encounters a monster, it is man who is responsible for whatever evil or wrong-doing occurs (such as violently inclement weather, global cooling or warming). It’s that, or he is responsible for a monster’s existence.  Whether it’s Mary Shelley’s monster, Frankenstein (“the Creature”), or Godzilla or the Alien or the Predator, or Jurassic Park’s raptors, the moral motif is that if man is terrorized or defeated by a monster, he deserves it because he’s “so full of himself.” Man, the theme goes, must be punished for simply existing and perhaps for just being curious. There is nothing special about man. He deserves to be reduced from a sentient, rational being in charge of his actions, his future and his happiness to a shivering gelatin of protoplasm, or put to death, preferably painfully.

The ostensible monster at large today is Islam. Islam is a man-created monster. Who or what set it loose to prey indiscriminately on man? Men created Islam, using the lethal weapon of altruism; the moral philosophy that it is one’s duty and moral worth, measured by the extent that one is willing to sacrifice oneself and one’s values, and not only for the “public good” (unless that includes the Islamic Ummah) but also because an all-powerful, malicious ghost, Allah, said so. It’s your duty to become some monster’s meal. That’s why you were created by Allah, to do his bidding, at his vile whim and pleasure.

The character of King Kong has become one of the world's most famous movie icons, having inspired countless sequels, remakes, spin-offs, imitators, parodies, cartoons, books, comics, video games, theme park rides, and a stage play. His role in the different narratives varies, ranging from a rampaging monster to a tragic antihero.

The antihero archetype can be traced back as far as Homer's Thersites. The concept has also been identified in classical Greek drama, Roman satire, and Renaissance literature such as Don Quixote and the picaresque rogue. Although antiheroes may sometimes do the "right thing", it is often because it serves their self-interest rather than being driven by moral convictions.

What accounts for the fascination with monsters?

Muslim Aliens want you to make babies with them.
Your gender is irrelevant.
It can’t just be that we have become so enervated by a culture that offers few positive, soul-strengthening values that we welcome being scared out of our wits, or cringing at blood-splattered gore, or seeing the irrational run amok and triumph. Mary Shelley created the Frankenstein Creature as a literary challenge, in 1818, in a time and era, in terms of a cultural spirit, as far away from our time as earth is from Pluto. The Creature became the subject of a 15-minute film in 1910, not long after the successful debut of Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac in 1897. Shelley even later penned a novel about a pandemic that wipes out man, The Last Man, set in 2073, surely a pioneer in a the literary and cinematic genres.

Who are the real life monsters? Why do they get a sympathetic pass, and not man?

A 1910 movie depiction of Frankenstein the monster
Aside from Islam, the monster, the predator, the man-hating and man-eating creature, is any man who says or thinks that man must sacrifice himself, for the “public good,” or for no reason at all. Ellsworth Toohey in Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead is a monster. The collectivist, the career altruist, the jihadist Muslim, is a dedicated antihero. If you are not willing to sacrifice yourself or your values, the monster will sacrifice you and them for you. Today, the monster is a Postmodern nihilist. He is also a member of Antifa, a consummate and violent movement dedicated to nihilistic chaos for the sake of permanently disruptive chaos.

But not all monsters look like monsters. Many of them look like the neighbor downstairs or the Muslim next door. They could look like Norman Bates of Psycho or as nondescript as any one of the 9/11 hijackers. All human monsters are nihilists simpatico in motive with their celluloid brethren. If
The 9/11 hijackers
they can’t have what you have, or are unable to achieve a value of their own, they are perfectly willing to destroy what you have. They are the nihilists who wish to inherit the earth, but they are neither meek nor humble, as neither Max Cady of Cape Fear and Preacher Harry Powell of The Night of the Hunter were not. They can be shy, retiring, and unassuming, or they can be as brash, brutal, boastful and glibly talkative as Negan, the chief nihilist of The Walking Dead, the popular TV horror series, and Richard Burton’s O’Brien, or as deceptively humble and soft-spoken as Cyril Cusack’s Mr. Charrington in the Michael Radford remake of 1984.

Monsters needn’t be physically grotesque. They can come in all manner of disguises, as widely divergent as Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, not to mention the average, anonymous Social Justice Warrior or ISIS jihadist, who wears a mask, not so much to hide his identity from the authorities and avoid arrest, as to express his non-identity as an interchangeable cipher. If you are assaulted, mutilated, eaten, beheaded, chopped into tiny parts, and killed, they want you the victim to know that you were terminated by literally nothing.

Nothingness is the goal and state of existence sought by all current monsters. And they often achieve those goals, but want to take you with them.