Waiter, where's my omelet...?

A fashionable term that has developed as a way to be more sophisticated than us brute simpletons is “Political Islam”, as though the political in Islam can be surgically removed. That would be like trying to take out all the veins and arteries of a living being. The sophisticated analysts may have sophisticated écorché models in their mind, along with all their taxonomic charts by which to adumbrate all the “variations” in Islam and among Muslims, but in the context of our #1 priority, protecting our societies from an unprecedented mass infiltration of a fanatical and old enemy, such speculations become morbidly meticulous (if not downright reckless).

I’m still waiting for an analyst anywhere, whether in the mainstream or in the Couter-Jihad, to say, “Islam is an evil and deadly Monolith, and all Muslims enable it. Now let’s get on to more important things — like what do we do about it…?”

When supposedly no-nonsense tough-minded Counter-Jihad analysts are not actually believers in the euphemisms that decaffeinate and granularize the bold locution I imagined above, they are effectively perpetuating it in their  anxious fear of stepping on the toes of their PC MC masters.  How many more decades, and how many more 911s, will have to transpire before we move out of our ethical and intellectual comfort zone about this protracted catastrophe?

When are we going to learn that you can't make an omelet while walking on eggshells...?  And to that question, as well as to the titular one at the top of this essay, the waiters will just have to keep waiting, seated over in the corner in the back by the swinging doors of the kitchen and the rest rooms, safely removed from the polite society of the politically correct, while those who should be serving us (our public servants), whenever they can't pawn off their Eggs Benedict Arnold, forever delay any just dessert.