Yet again, the news the majority is apparently not reading tells us that a Muslim planned to mass-murder Americans on American soil -- specifically, to detonate a bomb "during the Nov. 26, 2010, holiday tree-lighting ceremony in Portland's downtown Pioneer Courthouse Square" -- until his Islamic plans were foiled by FBI agents, so Jihad Watch reports, relaying a story about his current trial from The Oregonian.
Robert Spencer quotes the article:
[Judge] King said he was inclined to let Mohamud's lawyers show their client's family photos and to show evidence that he lived a relatively normal life before the events that now find him in Portland's Justice Center jail.
"Yes, yes, he was a decent fellow. So what?"
Even more damning of the TMOEWATHI meme. Isn't it only bearded "Salafi extremists" we have to worry about?
In case anyone hasn't noticed, over the years the PC MC R-&-D department has been busy developing an explanatory mechanism by which to explain how it is that "Extremists" (even un-extremist-looking ones) keep popping up all over the place, to such an extent and degree -- in sheer numbers, in escalating incidence, and in geographical diversity -- that it strains the tried and true "Bessylou" TMOEWATHI machine, which was built way back in the Winter of Ought Two in order to maintain the dogma (the dogma that tried to run over our karma) that the only problem we have with terrorism comes from a Tiny Minority of Extremists Who Are Trying to Hijack Islam.
This dogma entails three things:
1) Islam is mostly okay (with the usual caveats we can say about "all religions")
2) The vast majority of Muslims are mostly okay (with the usual caveats we can say about human nature -- fallible, to be sure, but nothing to get all paranoid about and start sounding alarm bells and rounding up people and "putting them into camps")
3) The only problem is the Tiny Minority of Extremists.
As Ol' Bessylou has over the years increasingly strained and cracked under the pressure of metastasizing pullulating Muslims -- not only perpetrating terrorism, but also plotting same, as well as rioting over Islamic values in seething violence-inciting hatred, issuing death threats, honor killing, and attacking and massacring in obviously religiously-motivated guerilla expansionism in various places all over the world -- instead of scrapping that old jalopy junk heap, ways have been found to tape its wheezing steaming gasket together. And the idea came about that somehow, out of #2, there can be generated more and more #3 through that strange process called "radicalization" -- even increasingly of seemingly Moderate Muslims and decent fellows like the Oregonian Mohamud.
Yep, that seemed to fit the bill, and they got Ol' Bessylou up and running again after a few chugging fits and starts down Main Street. It fits the bill, that is, for desperate PC MCs who have no other viable explanation for the metastasis of dangerous Muslims around the world.
The problem with this chewed-up spool of duct-tape called radicalization, however, is that it is vulnerable to paradox: the more it is used in order to stave off the inevitable inference (that we cannot know with sufficient certainty how many, and which, Muslims are dangerous), the more it serves in fact to suggest the tenability of that inference.
Then, as increasingly their suppressed intellectual conscience has begun to nag at the mind of PC MCs, came along a new broken and useless tool out of the PC MC toolbox: entrapment. You see, this Portland terrorist's lawyers are using the argument that he was "entrapped" by FBI agents (and there have been many more cases like this before).
This, however, suffers from the same problem and paradox as radicalization.
(PC MCs would do well to heed the second rule of the traditional mechanic. The first rule is: If you can't fix it with a hammer, it ain't worth fixin'. The second rule is: If it ain't worth fixin', stop tinkering. But they are heedless.)
All of this, however, doesn't seem to faze PC MCs. Their ability to sustain incoherence in their worldview and theories has amazing capacity, even in the face of their own semi-conscious misgivings, causing them more and more to retreat into fantasy. For, by now, their tired old jalopy has run out of gas, its gasket blew long ago and, in fact, she has no wheels; yet they continue to think they are driving, sailing down the highway with a creepy grin and a mad look in their eyes, even as their vehicle sits in utter park.
And, tragicomically, they're the ones at the wheel, and we're the passengers.