With all due respect to some naive people, I have seen nothing stomach-turning in the Koran

(nauseous), but I see barbarism within Muslims. Their intolerance, their savagery is only matched
by their ignorance. Christians also were able to show they were capable of terrible brutality, history
can attest that, yet the gospels are an unequalled proof of love. Men; the man is not able of
espousing love. The love for him is a game, a fraud, a means, a bait to lure the other.
But deep in ourselves, some of us at least, are aware of this dark abyss that is about to engulf us.
But alas we feel unable to step back.
How beautiful is the speech of the Algerian Muslim! He says we should be proud to live in a
country that respects the others freedom; freedom of worship, that is. But he forgets to say that in
this country, the constitution was sodomized by laws derived from Islamic dogma, which makes the
woman a pet for bestiality, a blow up doll in the service of people whose brain lays on their glans.
And, what about the man, then? Well, he is the slave of right-thinking turbaned who have
apparently both feet in the gardens of the Almighty. But what is left of our freedom? What is left of
the freedom of worship? Do we as witnesses forget the hundreds of Churches turned into mosques
or markets?

Against my will and since my childhood I am the miserable member of a community ruled by
traditions where love doesnt belong and where the abject hypocrisy is elevated to the status of
virtue.
"We are the best of nations. "" The Muslim is a man respectful of others and the earth that feeds
him. There is no man more humble, modest, polite, just, righteous, god-fearing and virtuous as a
Muslim." This is what you hear from the mouth of every Muslim preacher.
I was; I think eleven when my mouth became synchronized with my thoughts to finally say my
mind. I always found the Muslim traditions odd and some of them even barbaric. My dad, God rest
his soul told me:
"Mom will visit your grandfather. You will accompany her. Ok?
Yes of course."
But after my father left to work, my little brain began to dissect the idea and I came to the
conclusion that my mother could manage alone, she was grown up and that my presence was not
necessary. Its her Dads home for heavens sake! And anyway she knew the city better than I do.
"Mom, I'm going to play football with my friends and you know what I really dont want to
spend the whole day in a neighborhood where I know nobody. You go alone. Okay? "
But, this cant be! Are you out of your mind? What will people say? What will people say if I go
alone?" She was a little
shocked and angry. I realized that day why I had to accompany my mother, the baseness, the lowest
low of this culture. But the reaction of my mother was an even greater surprise. Her life was a
horrible tragedy and she accepted it.
"But why should you care about what people think? I said.
She smiled, almost giggled, put her hand on my hair and said:
"Oh, my dear boy if you only knew ..."
Oh no! This phrase became a monstrosity. I understood that day that the woman was never meant to
come of age and is not to be considered an adult and that she needed a companion, a guardian, even
if this latter had to be a child. This is a terrible insult to women. My mother ran the risk to be raped
by virtuous, generous, devout believers that fear the wrath of the Lord of heaven. My father
admitted that day, as many times before, that the Muslims are violent, wild sex maniacs that would
rape any woman openly and publicly. But I was eleven. What could I have done if some sprightly
virtuous devout Muslims decided to rape my mother in public? Nothing ... I tell you. They would
surely have raped me too. Ah, the Muslim! That wolf in sheeps clothing. If only the Europeans
knew it was only the opportunity the Muslims lack to slaughter them one by one in the name of a
dogma so bloodthirsty that the sky would weep. Islam, Muslims do not believe in doomsday. For
them, in their belief, they are the judges and the executioners of those they consider infidels.

I did not launch that stupid and dangerous discussion. That day we were seated at a caf, outside the
city, away from the hubbub and the unbearable traffic. Endless chains of cars testify of the
inadequate road infrastructure for a giant car park in this tiny country. It must be said that as a
pedestrian you cannot escape the obstructed sidewalks where there are at least two people, sorry,
rather two men per square meter; few are the women who dare to venture into these alleys of the
devil. And we dare accuse China to be overpopulated. What an audacity!
The caf was quite peaceful. The roof of the terrace was made of woven reeds and gave us a
refreshing shade in the scorching heat of August. The few customers who were there were mostly
university teachers or students in search of a moment of tranquility. We enjoyed our cold drinks and
began to speak about the city. It was so beautiful, so small. The French gave the keys of the city to
the Arabs and the result was wasnt a pretty one. The city became a garbage dump, anarchic, a slum.
Paradise dyed into the colors of hell. Trees were a pebble in the shoe of the Arab who cut them
down, unable to cut their throats. The sidewalks cracked under the weight of a birthrate worthy of
rodents. And eventually swallows and storks that defined the charm of my childhood summer
turned tired of the Arab and emigrated permanently to some other more ... human skies.
A car stopped in front of the terrace and we immediately recognized the person who was driving. It
was no other than our neighbor ... He waved at us and joined us. He was in the company of one of
his colleagues.