KING FOR A DAY (OR ANYWAY UNTIL 2012)

Rep. Peter King (R NY)--the same Peter King who once lauded the terrorist IRA as "freedom fighters"--is set to turn his powerful Congressional investigative lens on radical Islam and its threat to God's country. Here is what will likely happen, after the King investigations have run their course.

Congress will pass a “Defense of American Law” against Sharia that will probably have about the same effect the “Defense of Marriage Act” had on the spread of gay marriage and civil unions. Then Muslims will go back to enforcing Sharia law on themselves, as they are doing even now where it doesn’t too blatantly violate ours. Some will push for toleration of more and more extreme Sharia practices, others will shrug and go on with their lives as they are doing now. Here and there, some understanding of Sharia may prevail in the state and Federal courts, e.g., that Muslim women cannot be forced to expose their faces but may submit fingerprints, DNA or iris scans for identification purposes.

There will be no public beheadings or stonings, and the White House will not sprout minarets. The Republicans will continue to raise a Muslim Scare, the Democrats will scurry along after them. Some terrorist plots will be broken up, some innocent Muslims may be victimized, until the government overreaches or people simply lose interest and move on to the next thing.

In all these ways, our current Islamophobia is not much different from the alarms over French-inspired Jacobinism in the 1790s, over “popery” in the mid-19th century, and over communism during the Cold War. In all these instances, there was a combination of an external threat with internal subversion, which though real enough, was exaggerated by some for mostly political reasons and made the occasion for a debauch of investigation, denunciation and ritual expurgation. In each case, the alarms and excursions peaked after the real threat was past.

We can take heart, though! One of the things that makes America great is that sooner or later, we get over it. A century hence, Americans will celebrate Muslim holidays in the same superficial, commercialized way they presently celebrate St. Patrick’s Day and Cinco de Mayo–minus the alcohol, one hopes.

THE HAMID SHOW

You want cultural sensitivity? Here's cultural sensitivity.

Hamid wakes to find himself in a beautiful garden, with plenty of shade and fruit trees, and fountains flowing with wine served up by almond-eyed, lush-lipped, melon-breasted virgins, each more beautiful than her 15-year-old sister. The wine intoxicates, yet in a holy way. The houris compete to offer themselves for his eternal sexual service, yet their hymens regenerate so there is no sin. His manhood is drained repeatedly, yet arises again and again, hard and insistent.

Now he is joined by white-robed fellow jihadis, some his cave-mates from the old days, the rest eager to hear more of his bold deeds against the infidel. They all relate in wonder how they seem to have been transported to this place from their former abode, a hellhole where constant colonoscopies and tiresome visits from American journalists took time away from prayer, Koran-reading and basketball.

Ha! Those weak, irresolute Crusaders and Zionists! They used to sit us in La-Z-Boys for interrogation, we who once bedded down on the hard desert floor! They gave us juice boxes and Oscar Mayer Halal Lunchables, we who once lapped water from mudholes and ate goat jerky. Their kindnesses only increased our contempt for them! Tongue loosened, Hamid talks freely of his past exploits, his future plans for the American pigs, his compatriots still at large in Dearborn and Dagestan. The while, a booming Voice blesses him in the most poetic Arabic, though he cannot see Whose Voice it is for the blinding white light emanating from a giant golden throne.

But wait! It was all a ghastly ruse! Those houris are really just hookers hired for the occasion, the mujaheddin are really American soldiers who have actually learned a foreign language and gotten reconstructive plastic surgery for their country's sake. They borrowed the whole sound-and-light show from Hollywood. By the Prophet's beard, what are those blue pills?

Gotcha, sucka! The country that put men on the moon and tuna in resealable pouches has brought forth another miracle: all the fun, all the results of torture without the thing itself. We Americans are after all a good people.

--October 2006