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On Wild Mobs

I think I'm speaking for most tyrants when I say, "I love a good mob."  Wild masses, incensed, frothing with rage.  They've got burning flags and hastily-scrawled signs whose paint is barely dry.  Men, mostly - unshaven, reeking of khat or opium or cheap beer or wimpy, bar-bottom cigarettes - they're chanting and screaming and threatening all sorts of menace, mayhem, and mischief.

 And best of all: they're not mad at me.

Some douchebag publishes a rubbish movie and anti-American riots expand to 20 countries.  Never mind the fact that said douchebag had no relation with the US government.  Never mind that said douchebag took advantage of a country where speech - even offensive speech, sometimes - is protected.   Never mind the US government did everything in its power to catch said douchebag and limit the publication and distribution of the film.  Never mind the film is utter, total, reprehensible shite.

And the rioters come out, screaming and chanting, burning and destroying (carefully taking the time to loot all those valuable computers before actually burning, of course), expanding their not-thought-out hysteria to encompass Germany and - hell, why not? - the West in general, and generally coming unglued.

Meanwhile, my buddy Bashar "the Basher!" Assad is bombing the bejeezus out of Aleppo. What do Muslims have to say about that?  Not much. (Ha! great cartoon that represents this here).

I'd say the people's rage, anxiety, and dissatisfaction has been successfully diverted to a 3rd party, leaving my fellow Dicks a little time to relax, bomb a couple villages, entrench power, make some money, and make a few concerned public speeches on behalf of our long suffering people.  Woo hoo!  Thank you, mobs! 

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