In the advertisements on the signs at London station King's Cross with the Prophet's phrases there is nothing strange, nothing wrong. For the simple reason that in London the Muslims are in charge: their minority, now close to demographic overtaking, is already today much more aggressive and organized than the indigenous component and, a process unprecedented in the history of migrations so far, this massive penetration enters without asking permission, without thanking, with the attitude of those who consider everything due and nothing is ever enough. This is why “getting along”, according to a crazy but indisputable formula, is not only a losing strategy, not only absurd, but completely lunar, the result of a lack of knowledge of the facts and dynamics that is terrifying. London is, for the “new” generation Muslims, “the best place in the world”, more than the various caliphates and emirates and Gaza and Taliban enclaves, and it explains: we are free to organize ourselves, to impose our law, you are free to submit and if ever to apologize, to “ask for forgiveness”.
When Europe encounters some massacre, or violence, or harassment, or Islamic arrogance, she invariably accuses herself, consternates herself, begs for understanding: what better place, what easier conquest than that facilitated by those who allow themselves to be conquered? In London there is a justice system, a separate judiciary for Muslims, with ad hoc tribunals that the United Kingdom allows, respects, and does not interfere with: and they should, we should be surprised if in their train stations the invitation to repent appears from Muhammad?
The matter then subsided, for the moment: there was an outcry from those who don't accept this curious form of “inclusion” which in truth is annexation, especially during the Easter period, with the excuse that “they” must be protected. But the change of heart has every appearance of resulting in a gust, a flash in the pan to be extinguished under even more insistent messages and pressure. This is how it works in England which has left the European Union, within which things go the same way. From France to Belgium as in the northern countries, Muslim enclaves can no longer be counted and with them the systematic disarticulation of original societies: it is not harmonization, it is not coexistence, but made ignoble like that preached by us, by the Lombard bishop Delpini and by many of the same rank who have definitively abjured their religion and invite the faithful to follow them along the path of denial.
Here, in Italy the process appears confused, bastardized for a change: we are not yet, openly, at the levels of London and Paris, but, patchy, in the most Babel-like chaos, almost all the railway yards are controlled by exotic criminal infiltrations and there in Milan there are roads, very long arteries like Via Padova which are now totally colonised, there are towns in the hinterland equally subjected, in Pioltello there is a shocking feud underway between the government and a school, clearly oriented, clearly available for personal advantages and inclined a strategy of political sabotage, whereby the entire school board, including the families unanimously, demands and imposes the “closed for Ramadan” and says: if this is outlawed, if the state rules don't allow it, we don't care and the Minister of Police can go and fuck the sea. In the name of what? Of an illegal and psychotic inclusion?
Even in Italy, especially in Italy, acting according to intelligence and prudence seems to have become a crime, a deformed, unwatchable monstrosity. In universities scoundrels and idlers dictate the law, even just mentioning the words “Israel” and “Jew” is forbidden, we are witnessing authentic pogroms; on the other hand, the pro-Hamas – let's stop calling them pacifists and supporters of Palestine – call the Neapolitan neo-melodic singer Geolier and the magnificent rector says, in the manner of the rambling consumerist Catholicism of the end of Christianity: why not give him a chance?
Insipid phrase, of pure sound, referring to someone who goes to participate in the festival Of Sanremo with a personal flight, accompanied by a twenty-year-old girlfriend who shows off bags worth thousands of euros, someone who peppers his nursery rhymes and videos with revisable allusions, as Maria Luisa Iavarone says “on weapons, drugs, sex, sexism and support for organized crime”, then, having just touched on a success which could be discussed and perhaps even investigated, he proclaims: well, I have repented, I no longer shoot from the balcony. A chance at Geolier? To do what?
He too sends ecumenical messages, like the Prophet from the station and, in the same way, the way of the Cecchettin, of the opportunists from the end of the empire, exhorts: repent, be ashamed of yourselves, what I am, what I have done, what I have said not it matters, but you humble yourselves. And this rather miserable process is made up of things that connect and intersect: the neomelodic rappers giving lessons on the Camorra and legality in the universities where Hamas is supported, whose messages emerge from the panels of European stations. In the Roman one in Termini, certain disturbing writings appeared, with an offensive suggestion: “You are insects”. It seems it was an advertisement for a television network, but, in the uncertainty, many were disturbed because it was easy to see in it the contempt that conquering Islam directs at those who welcome it already on their knees, ready to be abused and despised. With every reason, because anyone who renounces their existence and dignified existence is despicable and anyone who takes advantage of it is right to subdue them, humiliating them in every way.
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