by Ilisha
There is probably a terrorist in your lunchbox right now. Seriously. Well, maybe not an actual terrorist, but a stealth jihad symbol or doohickey of some sort for sure. Trust me. They’re everywhere!
If you’re skeptical, just ask the citizens of the iconic American City of Boston, Massachusetts. When a 70-foot-tall mural entitled, The Giant of Boston, was recently revealed in Dewey Square to promote a show at the Institute of Contemporary Art, some keenly aware observers immediately recognized a “threat” to the public order: Graffiti Jihad!
In recent years, stealth jihads have been popping up hither and tither on a regular basis, but as you can see, there’s really nothing “stealth” about this bold, brash, in-your-face jihad-inspiring monument to terrorism. Apparently sensing a juicy opportunity for faux controversy, the local Fox News affiliate invited responses on Facebook, posing the question:
“This is a new mural on a Big Dig ventilation building. What does it look like to you?”
Some of the replies (here and here):
“Mooselim protected by Obama!”
“towel head”
“a Muslim woman in a head scarf holding an AK-47 in her hands”
“[It looks like] the wife of a terrorist”
“Taliban fighter”
“a tribute to [President Barack] Obama’s birthday”
“Finally a building worth crashing a plane into”
“a slap in the face to all those who lost someone on 9/11 & another slap in the face to our military who is over there risking there lives”.
“I’m going down there tonight and painting an American flag over it”
So far no one has painted an American flag over the mural, and secret Muslim US President Barak Obama is apparently remiss in sending a thank you note for his birthday tribute. Mr. President, Os Gêmeos are waiting!
Is there a bomb in that satchel?
Os Gêmeos (“The Twins” in Portuguese) are identical twin artists from São Paulo, Brazil. The twins claim their work is inspired, not by Osama Bin Laden, but by Brazil’s budding hip hop culture, and that their distinctive style of art is an outgrowth of street graffiti. Apologists have suggested the masked subjects they depict could be spray paint artists avoiding fumes and evading authorities, who tend to take a dim view of scrawling art, no matter how lovely, on the sides of public buildings.
Other artwork by the twins, Otavio and Gustavo Pandolfo, may seem like peculiar fare for apparent “Islamists,” laced with nudity and other seemingly incongruent themes, but savvy “counter jihadists” will quickly recognize this as mere taqqiya. Check out the damning piece of “art” to the upper right: Spray paint bandit or keffiyeh-clad suicide bomber?
This apparent jihad-loving duo isn’t content to keep their Graffiti Jihad confined to one place either:
As they build upon these monumental gallery projects across Brazil, Europe, and the rest of the world, Os Gêmeos takes their exhibitions in new directions that incorporate their love of theater, spectacle, musical performance, and sculpture. All the while, they continue their graffiti-based practice of murals and street painting, bringing that joy to people who will never visit one of their gallery or museum shows.
Then, as now, graffiti’s great strength was, is, and will hopefully remain, its ability to cross boundaries of culture and background like no other art form. For Os Gêmeos, that boundary crossing took the form of an art freely mixing the traditions of graffiti with their mutual fantasy world; all taking shaping since the mid-1980s amid the gut-wrenching pain and pants-melting bliss displayed on every São Paulo city block. As Os Gêmeos continue their ascent as the greatest artists the graffiti and street art movement has ever produced, the simple qualities of joy, caring, rage, and empathy ring through their work, rooted as ever in a love that began at conception. —Caleb Neelon
Rooted in love? Crossing the boundaries of culture and background? Clearly this Caleb Neelon is a fawning, leftist dhimmi. The twins themselves had this to say:
“…We believe that when you paint and put something in the street, museum, gallery, video—whatever—this touches somebody. People need time machines, they need to fly, to feel love, and we love to make that and give that to everyone for free. In exchange, we have so much to learn from life. We just bring back the way that we played when we were kids. When we were four or five, we were building things, destroying toys, and reconstructing them into others. What we do today is the same. Making sculptures is one way that makes people touch and feel in three dimensions, because everything we paint is a piece of the movement. It’s like a movie, everything is a frame from this one long film.
We also believe in God and in [His] writing, and sometimes we represent that in our work. Brazil is a very spiritual country, around 89 percent are Christian, and most of that Catholic. This came from Portuguese colonists, and the Evangelists. There are also the African religions that we call Afro-Brasileiros, people from the northeast of Brazil. In Brazil you find all these religions and the mix of religions, people of faith. Sometimes we represent a small church in order to show the belief of the people and how they trust in God…“
This is either sophisticated taqiyya, or we’re looking at a couple of leftist dhimmis. Which could it be? Perhaps we can glean evidence from another project, named–gasp!–The Pig. The pig in question appears to have an distinct “down with the Empire” antiwar theme apparently loved by jihadists and their leftist dhimmi allies alike, but a pig is a curious choice for a jihad mascot. A closer look at the pig’s belly from the proper angle yields a clue: It reads, “Occupy USA.”
Lefist dhimmis it is, folks.
