“Oh, yes, yes, yessssssss, we can!” I whimpered, as his smoldering eyes bored deep into the very core of my being and our souls met and I knew he was the only man who would ever win my heart, a heart beating so fast and loud I could barely hear what he was saying—something about executive orders, I think. “Oh, yes, give me one right now!” I cried, as my palpitating bosom burst the ties of my bodice causing my leg to vibrate so much my bustle fell off.
“Aye, you’re a comely lass,” said Squire Barack, as my tresses tumbled over my stays and his riding crop fluttered teasingly up my thigh. “But I don’t need to go a-wenchin’ in the White House Press Room.”
“No, please, good sir,” I begged, as he glided past me and gave a saucy wink to the chamber maid from the Washington Post.
Mark Steyn has a very, very strange approach to political matters. It begins and ends behind his zipper. For him, it's all about the penis, and lest you think I exaggerate or am merely using a metaphor, just read on--.
Here’s my favourite example [of global instability] from the last couple of years: in 2003, mass hysteria swept Khartoum after reports that foreigners were shaking hands with Sudanese men, causing their penises to vanish. According to the London paper Al-Quds Al-Arabi, this guy came into some fabric merchant’s shop and ‘shook the store owner’s hand powerfully until the owner felt his penis melt into his body’. He was taken to hospital. Announcing a special investigative committee, the ‘Chief Criminal Attorney-General’ told the local press that ‘the rumour broke out when one merchant went to another merchant to buy some Karkady [a popular Sudanese beverage]. Suddenly the seller felt his penis shrivelling.’ Also, don’t accept any combs from infidels: according to another victim, ‘At the market, a man approached him, gave him a comb, and asked him to comb his hair. When he did so, within seconds, he said, he felt a strange sensation and discovered that he had lost his penis.’[bolding is mine]
The detail that caught my eye in the vanishing-penis hysteria is this: it was spread by text messaging. You can own a cellphone yet still believe that shaking hands with an infidel will cause you to lose your penis. That’s a state-of-the-art primitive. Sudan is an economic basket-case with a 27 per cent literacy rate that nevertheless has half a billion dollars’ worth of top Chinese weaponry imported via Iran. What if it started importing other kinds of technology from Iran? Or North Korea? What happens when the infidel-handshake-fearing chap is given not just a cellphone but a suitcase nuke?
But these days we’re the ones who’ve lost our penises. The wise old foreign-policy birds insist that nothing can be done — Islam and democracy are completely incompatible, old man; everybody knows that, except these naive, blundering Yanks who just don’t have our experience, frankly. If that’s true, it’s a problem not for Iraq this weekend but, given current demographic trends, for France and Belgium and Holland and the United Kingdom a year or two down the line. But, as it happens, it’s not true. The Afghan election worked so well that, there being insufficient bad news out of it, the doom-mongers in the Western media pretended it never happened. The Iraqi election will be imperfect but more than good enough. OK, that’s a bit vague by the standards of my usual psephological predictions, so how about this? Turnout in the Kurdish north and Shia south will be higher than in the 2001 UK elections.
But, beyond the numbers, when you look at the behaviour of the Shia and Kurdish parties, they’ve been remarkably shrewd, restrained and responsible; they don’t want to blow their big rendezvous with history and rejoin the rest of the Middle East in the fetid swamp of stable despotism. The Shiites, for example, have adopted a moderate secular pitch entirely different from their co-religionist mullahs over the border. In fact, they sound a lot less loopy than, say, Senator Barbara Boxer of California did accusing Condi Rice of being a liar last week and then going all weepy and a-waily and claiming victim status because Condi declined to agree with her.
Steyn has made a career of attempting to whip up hysteria over the number of Muslim births. He seems to take it very, very personally. Notice how he begs for mercy before the masterful Brown Penis, yet cannot fight back. Could this man really be nothing but a pathetic, vicious creature who is ashamed of the size and performance of his penis? Is it really so small that he obsesses, indeed, makes his life's work, fear of the size and fecundity of the penis of the dark-skinned man?
And so is history made. Poppy was disappointed in Bush, and Bush wanted to prove him wrong. Cheney's ill health pushed caution to paranoia. The American people wanted to cling to their self-appointed exceptionalism. Steyn perhaps has a small penis. And people--other people, of course, usually browner people--die.