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                                                                        Beware of Imams Bearing Gifts of Peace and Tolerance IS NOW ON KINDLE!    
If you are afraid of the truth this is the book to avoid. If you want the lowdown on what the Imams are up to this is it. 
Think you’re up to it? 
 Dhimmitude begans at home! 
Little Annie Fanny caught in a mosque with her pants down? Oh, my!
Rock Around the clock with Abu Hamza!
Was Kurt Vonnegut caught in a Muslim time warp when he commented on Slaughterhouse 9/11?
Should Potsy and Ralph Malph pack heat to History class?
  Why are American children being taught that Mohammed the Mariner sailed the Ocean Blue and discovered America?
Anti-Semites rally at Duke University—Nathan Bedford Forrest stunned!


Beware of Imams Bearing Giftls of Peace and Tolerance




The Sheikh


Johnny Whiz Bang, Abolitionist

                                                                                     REVISED EDITIONS NOW ON AMAZON!


Don’t know anything about Islam? Have to rely on your professors and the Muslim Student Association to tell you Islam is a religion of peace and tolerance, that the Arab Spring is ushering in a new age of love and prosperity that will make America seem like Dogpatch at the height of the Great Depression. Tired of President Barack Obama telling you a woman has a right to wear a burka, that the Muslim Brotherhood is a democratic organization similar to the Tea Party.  Tired of people like Keith Olbermann shilling for the Ground Zero Mosque? You want the truth? Then you want Bernard Piffy.


Piffy is the private detective the boys at Joe’s Bar and Grille and Gun Club hired to track down Yaser Adbel Said the notorious Dallas cabdriver that had murdered his daughters, Sarah and Amina Said, in a fit of Islamic rage. What happened to Piffy shouldn’t have happened to a dog. He was beat-up, stabbed, and drugged. He would find out the hard way what a dhimmi was. On a dark and stormy night he would meet Ka’b bin al-Ashraf. Ka’b had been murdered on orders from Mahomet 1,400 years ago. Ka’b would take Piffy to the soul of Yaser Abdel Said. It was a strange world. It was full of magic, of jinns and zombies, of Jihadists and guardian angels. Piffy would be swept up in the war between the Prophet and the poets and writers the Prophet had murdered. The private detective would be turned into a ten-year-old boy so he could enroll in a Madrassas to spy on the Keepers of the Fleas; but transmogrification is an inexact science and when accidentally turned in an old man he would be stomped half to death by a gang of ‘Asian’ youths because he was caught wearing a raincoat with a Star of David on its back. Stockton Bonds, the famous Agent Six-and-seven eights, would be dispatched by M to hunt him down. St. Anthony, the Patron Saint of Lost Items, would give him a guardian angel puppy dog.  He would invade the Osama bin Laden Madrassas for Girls to rescue lovely little ten-year-old Aisha from life as a suicide bomber.  Disguised as a little girl he would catch the eye of the noted Safafist scholar Sheikh Rahman al-Kabibble. The Sheikh had recently issued a fatwa legalizing marriage to girls as young as nine years old. The Sheikh would have the hots for the ‘child’ Stockton Bonds called his little Honey Rider. For his crimes against Islam the ulema would schedule the ten-year-old for sex-reassignment surgery.


The revised editions of the first three volumes of The Search for Yaser Abdel Said (Aisha, The Sheikh, and Johnny Whiz Bang, Abolitionist) are now available at


   The bin Laden Madrassas was built like a fortress.  It lurked at the end of a dreary one-way street as appetizing as a canker sore in the mouth of a black widow spider. It was dark; it was gloomy; it reeked of evil, a forgotten corner of Dante’s Inferno. There were no guards but there were surveillance cameras.




   Was he crazy? Who in their right mind would swap a precious little ten-year-old girl for a six-legged blood-sucking parasite the size of a fly’s eyelash? It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? It was a hair-brained scheme—a human being for a flea.  No normal person would do such a thing; not Lucky Ned Pepper, not Polack Joe Saltis, not Bugs Moran.


   But the Keepers were not normal people, they believed in the Flea Fairy, in jinns, in Caliphates, in jizya, in honor killings, in cutting the hands off thieves, in smiting off fingertips. They were Qur’an-quoting, dhimmi-hating, jihadists; true believers, misogynists, bigots, homophobes, self loathing bottom-feeders on their way to Allah’s Great Whorehouse in the Sky. They cared little for this life except to make it as miserable as possible for the rest of humanity. Why wouldn’t they swap a ten-year-old girl for a flea?




   “There is no forgiveness in Islam for disbelievers!” thundered the Imam. “There is only an eternal torment.”


   “You’re wrong, potato head,” said Piffy. “Islam is the eternal torment.”


   The Imam hit the ten-year-old across the face. “There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his prophet!” he screamed.


   Piffy shook off the blow. “There are no Gods and there are no prophets,” he said. “There are only Devils and liars.”


   The Imam hit the infidel again. How dare this despicable Kuffar swine challenge the knowledge of the greatest Islamic scholar in all of Gaza!




   There were shouts and cries of alarm and then Piffy was out the door and down the street into the glowering dark, dressed as a girl, without a cent to his name and not the slightest idea of where in the hell he was going.


   Oh, yes, he had went and done it this time. No one in the history of law enforcement had ever attempted a more ridiculous hair-brained scheme—not Inspector Jean-Jacques Rousseau, not Maxwell Smart, not Tracer Bullet, not Deputy Dawg. It was a new low for Bernard Piffy, for the private detective profession, for every flatfoot who had ever caught a ride on a Keystone Kops paddy wagon. What on earth had possessed him to think he could pull off something so incredibly stupid? Sure, Asma bint Marwan had had a hand in it but he was the driving force. Did he have to be so gullible?


   So here he was, racing down a London street, pursued by only God knew whom, an adult male trapped in the body of a ten-year-old boy dressed in girl’s clothes, without a cent to his name and in desperate need of a skip to the loo, my darling. And it wasn’t one of the better sections of London. Oh, no, not by a long shot. It was full of neon lights and low dives. Every building seemed to house a honky-tonk or a topless bar. He expected to see Otis Campbell or Foster Brooks or W. C. Fields step out of a sporting house arm in arm with Irma la Deuce singing, “For Piffy’s a jolly good fellow!” It was no place for a ten-year-old boy dressed as a girl. He began to wish he had chosen the pantyhose.


1001 Inventions Book





Well, if the President said so he must have meant it. When FDR said he hated war he wasn't just making conversation; he hated war more than he hated the Depression. When Harry Truman called Molotov a liar he was angry and in earnest. When Old Hickory said he regretted not shooting Henry Clay or hanging John C. Calhoun everyone took him at his word. So when Barack Obama praised Islam's contributions to civilization he must have meant it. He just wouldn't make it up. It was probably one of the first things he learned in Madrassas.


And the bowing, well, the chances are even Danny DeVito would have curtsied to Prince Abdullah if he had learned what Obama learned in that Indonesian blab school.


Would Abe Lincoln have bowed to Abdullah? Would a prairie lawyer make an obeisance to a desert Sheikh? Not likely. Old Abe might have measured heights with the Prince. They would have stood, back to back-a sort of bloodless duel.  Lincoln liked to do things like that, but he would never have bowed.


Of course, Obama's bow wasn't a bow-it was more like a genuflection without the bended knee part, like a lackey would make to Henry VIII while hurrying Ann Boleyn's head to the graveyard. But if the President says it wasn't a bow, it wasn't a bow. Maybe Abdullah's shoelace was untied and Obama didn't have any other way of telling him.


The President didn't go into the details of Islam's contributions to civilization though they must have been considerable or he wouldn't have bothered to mention them. Many of them-maybe all of them-are listed in 1001 Inventions Book: Muslim Heritage in Our World, a bestseller in the UK and if Mayor Gavin Newsom of San Francisco ever gets wind of it required reading for grades K-12 in Serendipity Valley.


The book is loaded with incredible eridentia. How many people in America know that Leonardo da Vinci got his ideas about flying machines from Muslims? Up till now Tom and Huck thought Leonardo was painting The Last Supper when a bat flew off with his turquoise, but it turns out it was Muslims and not the observations of bats that started the Old Master on the road to scientific discovery. Wilbur and Orville Wright wouldn't have got off the ground without Islam.


In the 1930s the Soviet Union claimed they invented ‘baizeball' but now it appears they might have stolen the idea from Iran or Afghanistan.


Qur'an: 38:27 "We have not created the heavens and earth and all that lies between for nothing."


That takes in a lot of territory.


Those who have read 1001 Inventions Book have been impressed. Most of the reviews have been positive. "Who would have thought," wrote one reviewer, "that paper and gunpowder was brought to Europe by Muslims via the Muslim lands. Who would have thought it was in translation from Arabic, not the original Greek, that knowledge of Greek philosophy became prominent in Christian thought."


Icarus preceded Islam; China invented gunpowder; they also invented paper; and Islam rejected Greek philosophy.


But Islam made great contributions to civilization and was instrumental, if not in the creation of the US Navy, but in its transition from a handful of armed tugboats into a fleet of first class warships. If it hadn't been for all those pirate vessels swarming out of Algiers and Tunis and Tripoli in the 17th and 18th Centuries seizing American merchant ships in the Mediterranean and the along the coast of Northwest Africa and enslaving their crews, Thomas Jefferson would not have went along with the Big Navy advocates in the US Congress. The cry was "Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute!" And the Marine Corps anthem says "to the shores of Tripoli," another Islamic contribution to America! Will it never end?


Ms. Bettany Hughes, a renowned British TV presenter, was ecstatic in her praise of 1001 Inventions. "I am absolutely delighted to support the 1001 Inventors Project."


The book is being used to promote Islam in the UK.


"This is scintillating and original initiative and incredibly timed...Of course, the tragedy of much of Muslim Heritage is that it was burnt in 1492 in Spain, over one million Muslim texts were set into the fires."


That darn Queen Isabella!


"I think we are going to see a phoenix rise from the ashes," said Hughes.


Rise! Rise, O Phoenix!


Book burnings were popular long before 1492. The Great Library at Alexandria was destroyed in 641 AD. The Christians have always blamed the Muslims but recent ‘historical' research claims it was rogue Christians that applied the torch. Robert W. Mosimann of the University of Minnesota Press disagrees. In his review of God's Crucible: Islam and the making of Europe, 570-1215 by David Lewis, Mosimann took a good whack at the new myth. Mohammed issued the order to destroy the library at Alexandria says Mosimann, and the order was preserved by a respected Islamic judge and exists to this day.


In the words of the Prophet: If the library contained works in accordance with Islam, they were not needed and should be destroyed and if they contained works at variance with Islam they should be burned. It was no easy task. It took six months to destroy the books. It was not the only time Mohammed ordered the burning of a library. From Alexandria to India the Greek classics went up in flames. The Main Christian Library at Constantinople, containing 250,000 books, was destroyed.


"Regrettably," writes Mosimann, "Islam over its 1400 year history has destroyed far more wisdom than it has ever produced. An estimated 90% of Greek culture has been lost to us directly as a result of Islam. The greatness of this western heritage is of far greater significance than anything Islam has ever come close to producing."


The reviewer of 1001 Inventions said, "Who would have thought it was in translation from Arabic, not the original Greek, that knowledge of Greek philosophy became prominent in Christian thought." One should be thankful for 10%percent. A dhimmi is born every day.


Where Obama sees contributions to civilization Thomas Jefferson and John Adams saw something else. Perhaps they were closer, could smell the stench of the slave pens, hear the cries of "Allahu akbar!"


In 1786 Jefferson, as Ambassador to France, and Adams, as Ambassador to Britain, reported to Congress on their negotiations with the Barbary States. Muslim hatred of America, they said, "was founded on the Laws of their Prophet; that it was written in their Koran, that all nations who should not have acknowledged their authority were sinners, that it was their right and duty to make war upon them wherever they could be found, and to make slaves of all they could take as Prisoners and that every Musselman (Muslim) who should be slain in Battle was sure to go to Paradise."


Forty-four years later John Quincy Adams found little to change in his father's original estimate of Islam. "In the seventh century of the Christian era," he wrote, "a wandering Arab of the lineage of Hagar (Mohammed), the Egyptian, combining the powers of transcendent genius, with the preternatural energy of a fanatic and the fraudulent spirit of an imposter, proclaimed himself as a messenger from Heaven, and spread desolation and delusion over an extensive portion of the earth...He poisoned the sources of human felicity at the fountain, by degrading the condition of the female sex, and the allowance of polygamy, and he declared undistinguishing and exterminating war, as a part of his religion, against all the rest of mankind."


It all depends of whether the President's bow was a bow or a scrape.


(From the Michael Moore File)



Faster than a speeding armadillo, more powerful than Peewee Herman’s bicycle, able to leap to any conclusion at a single bound—it’s MICHAEL MOORE, less the S-man’s codpiece, his interstellar cerebral capacity, his protean logic, and the ability to withstand the Marxist drivel emanating from the halls of Berkeley and Cambridge. Brain-decayed by hours spent on the GM production line—some say it was merely minutes—this amorphous proletarian, who looks more like Colonel Blimp than Colonel Blimp, is the darling of the blue-collar set though it is doubtful if Joe Six-Pack could stand his company for more than a few minutes at a time even if the Moore Man was buying. The S on this Superman’s undershirt doesn’t stand for Socrates, it stands for Socialist, and, apparently, the Moore Man wouldn’t have it any other way. One wonders why. Even Jethro Bodine would have rejected the few overworked Marxist phrases Moore offers in lieu of a genuine socialist philosophy. Couldn’t Moore take a couple of Junior High classes in Marxism to be at least D- left-literate? He is so embarrassing.


But one has to hand it to Moore. He could replace the entire cast of Cheers if he put his mind to it. He is talented. He has the girth of Norm Peterson—not Norm’s savoir-faire, his girth. Savoir-faire, he doesn’t have any. He has the know-it-all attitude of Diane Chambers but with those hips of his he wouldn’t make the chorus line at a fat ladies convention. He has the innocence of a Woody Boyd though Woody’s innocence is for the most part innocuous while Moore’s naivete is reprehensible in its loathing of people who can build a better mousetrap.  Moore has all the obtuseness of Coach, but none of the Coach’s sense of belonging. He has Sam Malone’s love of sports—why else would he be wearing a baseball cap? Of course, Sam never wore a cap—he was too proud of his hair. Could it be the vegetation on the Moore Man’s pate is thinning, or is he just trying to keep all the great thoughts he is thinking from escaping?


Obviously, Moore is closer to Cliff Claven than he is to any of the other Cheers characters. He is almost as obnoxious as Clifford—and that’s the best that can be said for him and the worst that can be said for Clavin. When Diane Chambers looked at Cliff and said, “A little education can be a dangerous thing,” she had never heard of Michael Moore.


It’s more than a bit surprising that the parasitic left, with its great pretensions to intellectual and cultural superiority, should embrace a literateur like Moore who was turned down three times by the Dogpatch’s All-Volunteer Cro-Magnon Literary Club Membership Committee.


Maybe it’s what Moore writes about rather than any Post-Raphaellian talent he possesses. One Moore enthusiast said Michael’s most recent book, Stupid White Men, was ”deliberately dopey.”


Yes, and so were Mortimer and Elmer Fudd. And Goober and Gomer had their days and Lucifer Yokum was a master at successfully comparing himself to a pig. Moore fits in well with this group. He might be a bit ahead of Lucifer, but if he’s never caught a rabbit. He’s no better than Elmer.


Another Moore groupie said that Michael was, “Midwest dopey—totally on purpose. He is also deeply romantic, saying people like Bush and the Bush family have lost an America, and we want this America back.” Oh, yes, dopey is the word.


Aside from this analysis being idiotic, why would Michael Moore be searching through the pages of Das Kapital for a lost America? Has he ever voted for Eugene Debs? Does he know who Debs was? Has he ever voted in a Florida election? Why does he hate Elian Gonzalez? Has anyone ever told him that George Washington and Thomas Jefferson were capitalists, and that if it were not for them he’d be cutting sugar cane for Castro—which might be above his physical level, but certainly not above his mental or cultural?


Michael Moore is terrified of white men. Whenever he sees them gathering on a street corner he clutches his purse more tightly, and wishes he were at a New Black Panther Party meeting.  He is so terrified that he wants to kill Whitey. In this he would use African-Americans—he says so in his book. One of his groupies said, “I just think that’s really admirable.”


This is an old idea, first put forward by the ultra-creepy Sis’ta Sol’ja back in the days preceding the first Clinton administration. The fact that African-Americans have been killing whites in large numbers for the past fifty years seems not to penetrate the thick skulls of Moore and his dopey followers. (Blacks murder seven whites for every black murdered by whites). The statistics are a disgrace. That doesn’t seem to bother the haters and Moore is a hater.


If Moore were merely dopey he could be forgiven. If he were a moron it could be taken into consideration. And if he’s still looking for a lost America he’s not going to find it amongst the trash he associates with.