Sunday, January 26, 2020

Be such a Debbie Downer

Image result for the bataclan cafe

A couple of years ago, I had a relatively brief but still substantive enough exchange with a commenter whose opinion I esteem perhaps the most (who has gone by the nicknames "Nobody" and "Infidel") on my former blog, The Hesperado, attached to a posting there titled The Logic of Stealth Jihad (also see its subsequently published postscript), in which, to abbreviate its more nuanced articulation rather drastically, I argued that Westerners will likely only wake up to smell the Islamic coffee when it's too late.

If the reader reads the posting, and then goes through the comments exchange, he will see how I work out Nobody's misunderstandings, which seem to involve a curious mélange of optimism & pessimism, and which culminate in a rather Pollyannish view of what Trump portends.

Sure, one usually doesn't want to be a Negative Nelly or Debbie Downer; but if the data indicates it, it would be not only foolish to be a Peppy Pollyanna, but ironically facilitating (by cultivating a lowering of our guard) the very doom being pooh-poohed.

Further Reading:

From nearly a year ago here, a little notice alluding to my protracted depression vis-à-vis the whole mess of Islam and the West's denial (be sure to follow up on the many internal links therein):

Just under the wire...

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