My Brother the Islamist


My Brother the Islamist is an engaging, one-hour documentary chronicling the life of “Richard,” a young Brit who turned his back on his democratic roots in favor of the mind-shit of fundamentalist Islam and homicidal jihad against the west.  The film’s producer is Richard’s younger brother, Steve, a person trying hard to understand how his older brother could have possibly taken such an ugly turn in life.

This is an excellent documentary.  I enjoyed every second of it, even at times when I couldn’t quite understand exactly what was being said because of their thick cockney accents.  Produced in 2011, I was surprised to find that it had only been viewed around 39,700 times.

There’s a lot to be observed and learned in the piece.  It’s riveting throughout.  I came away convinced more than ever that most sane and rational people are only barely equipped to deal with the madness that fundamentalists – of all stripes – represent to modernity, if not the continued evolution of our species and this planet as a habitable place.  These are very sick, twisted people, all of them in desperate need of medical and psychiatric help, maybe even lobotomies.

I could hardly distinguish Richard and his brethren of brain dead morons from the flock of fundie assholes who have infected our Congress, our courts and our public schools.  The only difference that I can see is in the level of insanity that Islamists are willing to inflict upon themselves and others in the name of their delusion.  The recent, in-broad-daylight, meat-clever dismembering of a British Marine in Woolwich, England is an excellent example of the kind of madness to which I write.

What’s the only real difference between, for example, Terry Randall (“Our goal is a Christian nation. … We have a biblical duty, we are called by God to conquer this country. We don’t want equal time. We don’t want pluralism. … Theocracy means God rules. I’ve got a hot flash. God rules.”), or James Dobson or Tony Perkins or any of the Islamist nutbags roamin’ the countryside without a straightjacket?  I think it simply boils down to three things: a) the amount of facial hair each chooses to sport, b) the delusion each choses to worship and c) how much cruelty each is willing to inflict on someone who is not a member of their cult.  In every other respect, they are the same species of batshit-crazy, dangerous, looney-tune nutbags that, if left unchecked, will create a very bad day for all of us.

About Rev. El Mundo

Mocker of superstition and woo.
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