Typical blather from a clueless media tart. The above video tells us nothing about the assassins who are murdering our people.
Here’s Larry Pickering’s piece which is right on the money:
Muslim Photo Op
… but where are all the disability boys?
It was a poignant moment when one lady first left flowers at Martin Place, she stood back with tears rolling down her cheeks, momentarily searching for an answer that never came, before she quietly wandered off into the crowd.
Then another young Asian girl left some yellow flowers alongside hers, then another and another, then a stream of tearful people were suddenly contributing to a massive carpet of flowers. It’s still growing.
I was fixated by the spontaneity, the impulsive unrehearsed order of it all. Then, mid afternoon, no fewer than 10 Muslim women in scarves arrived with more flowers. Some were crying others were praying.
I glanced to the left to see six Muslim elders, including a diminutive Grand Mufti, one wore a Santa hat and all were in pastel loin cloths.
I searched for the Muslim youth, but there were none to be seen. Not one of the bearded boys who rampaged our streets smashing police cars and waving behead non-Muslim signs. My cynical mind went into overdrive, how can this be?
It seemed obvious really, ten or so Muslim women don’t just turn up all at the same time mid-afternoon per chance, neither do six or so clerics. It was a prearranged symbol of Islamic condolence and it seemed so alien to the spontaneous passion of the others.
The order had gone out, “Get down there now, cameras are everywhere, and you women take flowers, tell all the boys to be there too.”
Well, the women are conditioned to obedience but the boys are not… “You jokin’ aren’t ya man? We been celebratin’ a huge setback for the Kaffirs here and you want us to bring flowers and shit? Yeah, right.”
As I watched the clerics a moment of unabashed bigotry bubbled to the surface… what exactly is this manufactured grief? Perhaps for a shattered nation? Could it be for Katrina and Tori? Their families?
What sorrow could they possibly feel for these reviled infidels when they are already instructed to strike at their throats and lop their fingers?
At least the boys were honest. They all knew their demented brother, as did the clerics, and they knew exactly where he obtained his sawn-off shotgun from.
Anyway, how could the boys possibly pay their respects to him without appearing to grieve for us?