Thursday, January 25, 2007

Where’s my infidel-beheading scimitar?

The New Yorker has now tackled the story of Adam Gadahn.  I’ve written about this at some length.  I enjoy these long, completely credulous, repetitions of the Official Story, replete with the usual nonsense, always failing to join the obvious dots.  We even learn that the Islamist terrorist, on his return from his first radicalizing visit to Pakistan, was ill, and had his medical care supervised by his grandfather, the guy who was a member of the board of the Anti-Defamation League  By convention, the story ends with the question of how these nice American boys convert to Islam and turn into crazed terrorists.  Perhaps because its hard to infiltrate al Qaeda as a Mossad spy if you are still wearing a kipa?

The al Qaeda dudes are hip to the internets, so if I smell a rat, they would too.  Blogging about Gadahn made me (almost) worry about his safety, as if Osama would be surfing the net one day, come across my posting, and go ‘Oh, shit, we’ve been punked, where’s my infidel-beheading scimitar?’  They must know exactly who he is, but don’t care.  What does that tell us about the true nature of ‘al Qaeda’?

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