When do I get my fatwa?

With all the hubbub surround insults– real or perceived — against Islam, I’ve grown weary of watching the supposed guardians of freedom cower under the mere threat of violence by the so-called religion of peace.

But just to get this blog off to a bang, I’ll take my shot at ginning up some Muslim outrage. Now before you start crowing about Islamophobia, realize that I have nothing against anyone who practices his faith in a personal and devout way.

I’m not fond of seeing crass depictions of my chose deity, Jesus, yet they nevertheless litter the cultural discourse. My problem is with a group of people who believe their blind faith in an invisible deity trumps my right to say, print, draw or do anything I want to within the laws of my city, state and country.

There is no right in the constitution, or any other founding document, that protect one from being offended. If I call some female I meet “chick” or “babe,” if I snicker at the gimpy guy in the wheelchair, even if I dropped the n-word in conversation, I’d expect to suffer consequences.

But only in social settings. Friendships could end, rumors may spread. That’s the price of free speech. But if that chick or cripple decides I need killing for what I said, they’ll spend the rest of their life in jail, like the Muslims who kill randomly, drawing excuses from the most recent edition of The New York Times or NBC News.

But back to my fatwa. My realization that radical Islam was in the process of eroding First Amendment freedom of speech was during the Danish Cartoon controversy.

Despite their extreme news value, not one of the nation’s major newspapers had the balls to print them, though it’d have been nice to see what all the fuss was about. So, to state my continued refusal to be censored, no matter what, I give you ‘Splosion-Hat Mohammad!


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