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Luke Jackson
If one amongst the Pagans asks you for asylum, grant it to him, so that he may
hear the Word of Allah; and then escort him to where he can be secure. This is
because they are men without knowledge. -- The Holy Quran, 9:6
When I meet aspiring brothers in jihad, they frequently ask me to set down my
thoughts on the war for wide dissemination, in order that all mujahideen may learn about
the history of our struggle, the strategies and tactics we have developed, and where I
foresee its progress in the future. Accordingly, I have taken leave from teaching courses
at the Al Hudud ash Shamaliyah University, and indeed cancelled all of my speaking
engagements throughout Islam, for the purpose of recording this proud and immortal
First, when I refer to the American Beast, I refer to those who govern in the
West, not the people. Even some Americans criticize their brothers as “little Eichmanns”
for their participation in the great engine of faithlessness and nihilism that is the West.
However, I urge my brothers to consider the ignorance of their people. Born and bred
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within this iron prison of the mind, never knowing Allah, they are as animals kept in a
zoo, constrained by moats, ravines, and fences, hand-fed their kills, without ever
Of course, the true jihad is against the wardens of this Great Prison. The
Allah, following in the brave footsteps of the captured and tortured Hamza Walker Lindh.
youth, I spent a year within the borders of the Beast, sent there due to the prevalent belief
then that the West provided superior education in its institutions—now clearly an absurd
mockery. I can only attribute this false consciousness to the fact that Islam was then
occupied, many of its people subjugated and torn from Allah by the gaudy trinkets and
I shall not name the city nor the year. Suffice to say that the grime and pollution
were not merely physical, but spiritual--- their women strolling hungry and half-bare
through the streets like animals on the hunt, masculine and aggressive, their dead eyes
boring into a man’s without shame or humility. Of course, all were as lost children there,
born to worship their pathetic false idols, raised blind to the guiding light that is Allah,
I was shocked that my liberal arts professors (there was a requirement that I attend
these classes, else I would have remained safely within my science and engineering
young minds in “postmodernism” and “moral relativism,” buzzwords that are and shall
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remain meaningless within Islam, but which false intellectuals bandied about then for the
ultimate heresy: that there is no clear good and evil, only shades of grey, and that their
god is dead. Of course, their god may be dead, but Allah is eternal, immortal,
omnipotent and omniscient, and indeed possesses all positive attributes that may be
named.
There were hours when I thought I had died, but rather than the succor of black-
eyed virgins, I was lost in the eternal dark torments wrought by my sins. And indeed—
though I now know that Allah is everywhere and in all things—there were times when
the distance between Allah and I seemed so great, so impassable, that I thought my
prayers at salat were lost in the hell-red, befouled city sky, diverted from Mecca and
by the suites occupied by my wives and sons, I know that this life has been truly blessed
by Allah, and I am not ashamed to admit my year in the Beast was the time of my
greatest confusion.
It was in the European History course of “professor” Vogel that I first realized
that redemption is possible for them, if not probable. Vogel, ancient enemy of our
people, was violently obese, barely able to support his spherical bulk on his short,
waddling legs, a laughable embodiment of all that was most selfish and uncontrolled in
his nation and his race. Rather than listen to his ill-informed hagiography of his brothers
like Karl Marx, I drafted the mangy kinks of his hair and the intricate seashell whorls of
Of course, I had never seen our enemy this close, unprotected by the riot gear
and weapons their cowardice makes them need in our dealings. Though his vocabulary
was large and his speech clever, he spoke the same as his people had throughout history
Of the Jews there are those who displace words from their right places, and say:
“We hear and we disobey”; and “Hear what is not heard”; and “Raina”; with a
twist of their tongues and a slander to Faith. If only they had said: “We hear and
we obey”; and “Do hear”; and “Do look at us”; it would have been better for
them, and more proper; but Allah has cursed them for their Unbelief; and but few
of them will believe. (Holy Quran, 4:46)
My younger brothers must remember that this was the time before Allah’s fiery
wrath was visited upon their people and the nation of Israel pushed into the blue depths of
Late in the semester, as the Ashkenazi Vogel laboriously forced his bulk up the
stairs passing by my desk, he espied the caricature I was in the process of drawing.
Looking back, I am certain that I allowed him to see it (although that year was further
“Ehhh?” the Jew then breathed in the middle of his communistic lecture, as the
webs spun by his people’s deviousness created the illusory binaries of Western thought,
when all was crass materialism and the rejection of Allah. Time stood still, as the
creature considered new webs: whether to ignore his portrait and continue within the
“Not very flattering,” he said in a quieter voice, nodding at his pencilled image on
my desk.
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“See me after class,” he said, then resumed his lecture and his labors up the steps.
My brothers, I of course had no fear confronting the creature at the end of class.
Indeed:
The Jews say: “Allah’s hand is tied up.” Be their hands tied up and be they
accursed for the blasphemy they utter. (Holy Quran, 6:64)
Knowing full well that he was cursed by Allah, that his proper fate was to be
made into an ape and a pig (see the Holy Quran, 2:65, 5:60, 7:166), I stood before him
boldly, my head raised and meeting his eyes alone after class.
“Fouad,” the “professor” said, “I don’t feel that you’re very engaged in this
class.”
said with a disrespectful smirk, gazing down. When I did not answer, he said, “Be that as
Then I understood him: I would have to accept his web of lies as Truth, I would
have to study and memorize the history of how his people had conquered the West from
within and used its powers for their own nefarious ends, all the while pretending that it
had not happened that way but had only happened the way he said it. Indeed, Vogel had
made the outrageous claim earlier in the course that he was not a Jew, as Judaism was
merely a religion, and he did not practice. Too clever, he would eradicate his own
existence and that of his people to greater camouflage himself among the “goyim.”
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Then I understood the Parable of the Spider, as this creature had built himself a
house, but truly the flimsiest of houses is the Spider’s house. (Holy Quran, 29:41)
“Do we have an understanding?” the fat Spider asked, looking up hungrily from
where he squatted behind his cluttered desk, as if I were the weak and helpless insect to
I nodded—I would drop the course, take a failing grade, and attempt to
immediately transfer out of this insufferable hell of spiritual malaise and Zionist
brainwashing. I had had enough. In my mind’s eye, I saw Muhammad on his proud
another student in the rear still—his eyes an absurd blue like windows onto a frozen
Scandinavian sky, his white head close-cropped with angry red bristle. His face had been
gelid as a glacier throughout the semester, but now, I thought I saw him smile.
I beg the patience of my brothers to tell more of this young man. The next time I
saw him, it was in the communal dorm bathroom, a pit of uncleanliness marked by vomit,
bodily fluids, and the other detritus of intoxication and self-abuse. He stood before its
cracked and cloudy mirror at night, his eyes swollen and red, running a razor blade across
the sparse fur covering his well-defined pectorals. His head was already bald. His chest
muscles were large, though, pale and trembling as his razor scoured them, marked by
nicks dribbling his rich red blood, they seemed somehow fragile.
“It’s more… clean,” he said to me with a thick tongue as our eyes met in the
mirror.
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Even then, I knew what he sought: Purity. Of course, we all know that this purity
can only be achieved through Allah, the Light of the heavens and of the earth. But he
could not have known Allah in that benighted realm of lust and desire, but could only
express his desire for purity in a corrupted and insipid form, i.e, through the flesh.
I then noted, on his pale left pectoral, a small and clenched swastika near his pink
nipple.
“How you like that?” he then asked me, his inebriated face showing a mean and
toothy grin, the swastika jumping and dancing like a spider as his left pectoral flexed.
Hindustan, I have seen swastika motifs in the mosques of Iran and Lebanon, as well.” I
“Huuh,” he said in a glazed monotone, and I sensed that, though my response was
not the expected one, it was the correct one under the circumstances. “You’re funny,” he
said after a moment. “I’m Andy. Aren’t you in my Lit class too?”
Albert Camus to be precise, which he found dull and without plot or purpose. I agreed,
and added that the hero’s murder of an Arab revealed the West’s true hatred for our
people. He admitted that many in the West hated us, and indeed, would consider us
“sand niggers.”
return home, I began spending more time with this young man. We equally despised the
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vile Vogel, and laughed that, while he preached for “multiculturalism,” he was known to
be terrified to step foot outside of the whitest and most gentrified districts of the city.
But we were bound by something more than our mutual hatreds—and indeed, if
forced to put words to this ineffable quality, I would say that, in a different world, he
One weekend, shortly before my flight home, Andrew and I watched the entire
sextet of Star Wars films on the small color TV/DVD combination in his dorm room.
Rather than the emptiness of our readings in literature, here were revealed the latent
mythopoeic yearnings of the West. (Indeed, it was this viewing experience that would
shape my doctoral thesis at the University.) The Empire clearly represented the
American Beast invading and occupying our lands, and we, the mujahideen, were clearly
the rebellion. Even within the belly of the Beast, the narrative resonated with power,
although its people obviously could not grasp the full implications.
“I’m bored,” he belched as the credits rolled at the end of Episode VI. “Let’s go
consequence. I remembered then that even the great martyrs had visited such an
establishment on the eve of their sacrifice, and none dare impugn their names.
Of course, we are never free of consequence, as I was to learn later that night.
The pink and purple neon strobed over our faces when we arrived, a
technofluorescent hellfire that gave Andrew’s red face an even greater demoniac aspect.
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I guided him to a plush divan set next to a raised stage, at the center of which was a
It was then that I noticed the woman on the stage, bent over and staring at herself
in a mirror set in the wall, her dark and swollen buttocks jutting upward and outward like
a dog seeking to couple. She thrashed and gyrated to an explosive, truly Satanic noise
erupting from the walls, which my later research disclosed to be Du Hast by Rammstein.
only go on so that young mujahideen will follow that precept: “Know thy enemy.”
Andrew was almost instantly guided away, blind and stumbling, led by the hand
of a petite, bikini-clad temptress of Asiatic aspect. I was stranded, alone, in that most
dangerous of places.
The harlot on the stage inched towards me, writhing her tanned hips and licking
her crimson lips, and I saw that her pubis was fully exposed. Her genitals lay wet and
open, the purplish-brown ripple reminding me of nothing so much as the meat dangling
I became nauseous.
“Where you from?” she asked in a high-pitched voice that could only be an
“It’s okay,” she said, leaning over and whispering into my ear in her true voice.
I stared at her in horror. There, her eyes black as those of the virgins that shall
greet and succor us after this life. But she was no virgin. There, her ready and exposed
pubis that should only be seen by her husband. But seen by all. There, the tiny dollar
I shudder still to think of how she disrespected her father and brothers.
It was then that I reached between her spread legs and inserted the whole length
of my right index finger into her vagina. I’m certain that my brothers realize that this was
intended as disrespect to this Jezebel, not out of any desire on my part. There can be no
violation of one already without honor. Were she still within Islam and not the Beast, the
She then had the temerity to emit a piercing scream. I was grabbed by rough
hands, pulling me from the corrupt moistness of her womb, guiding me to the door and
ejecting me out into the empty streets of the industrial zone at night.
“Keep walking,” the security officer said, crossing his massively overdeveloped,
I walked, my brothers. I walked across the street and into the darkness
underneath the freeway overpass, strewn with litter and assorted rubbish. I could still see
There, my only companions the stench and the roar of the occasional vehicle
overhead, I waited.
It was during those hours of waiting, considering the extent of Jezebel’s dishonor,
and the fact that the cumulative effect of all Jezebels was cultural rather than individual,
that I considered the merits of El-Fadl’s “middle road” and rejected them all. Truly, there
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could be no “middle road” with a society that made our women whores, our men
unprincipled and emasculate, and the laws of the Holy Quran, that most sacred Word of
It was then that I knew I was being called as a Soldier of God, and made the
I waited long into the night, but Jezebel was forced to leave her sanctuary of sin
eventually. I barely recognized her outside of her habitat, clothed in a gaudy, reflective
trench coat, knee-high black boots, and without her wig, her hair now only a short brown
It was not the time for doubt or hesitation, however. Under the Law, I knew what
her punishment must be. I threw the rock, but its arc was wide and it merely skidded in
the dirt beside her. She started at the noise and reached into her bulky purse. However,
as with my finger, on my second attempt my aim was true, cracking her skull just above
“Fuuuck!” she screamed, more genuine with fear now, clutching her head and
I raced closer to her, wielding a larger rock now. I could see the pepper spray can
she had pulled from her purse in a feeble attempt to avoid her fate.
“Psycho…” she groaned softly as she saw me approach. “I’m really Indian,
Shells within shells, lies within lies, my brothers. But: “Nay, We hurl the Truth
against falsehood, and it knocks out its brain, and behold, falsehood perishes!” (Holy
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Quran, 21:18) Indeed, I thought at the time that, if she were truly Hindu, I would provide
At this range, it did not require much force—only a gentle lob, in fact—for the
rock to crack into Jezebel’s forehead, sending her prostrate and, finally, silent. A small
puddle of blood pooled near her head. She, who had been so cocksure within the den of
Her face was now slightly concave and crushed inwards beneath the rock. She,
who had traded upon her face and her flesh, now had the grace of disfigurement, thereby
protecting her from future sin. Then, I imagined she would be as our children
permanently scarred by American bombs and guns, those who refused the insulting
To those whom I have told this story since, some have disputed whether this was
correct application of the sharia, primarily upon two grounds: (1) that she was not a
Believer, and therefore sharia cannot apply, or (2) that the punishment for fornication is
merely a hundred lashes, not the death by stoning required for adultery. However, let me
remind these dissenters of the egregiousness of her sins, and the fact that her punishment
should be viewed in the wider context of the jihad against the Pagans and Unbelievers.
At any rate, she did not die. There was still some small movement in her limbs,
Near the club entrance, the security officer was guiding Andrew out. Andrew’s
face was slack and blurred, and he was hardly able to walk, but the officer shouted when
he saw me standing over the twitching Jezebel. In a true act of courage, Andrew grasped
“Run, Fouad!” Andrew yelled, as the officer slammed him backwards against the
front wall of the establishment, and Andrew’s breath whooshed out of him.
I ran, my brothers. I knew that there was nothing left for me within the confines
of the Beast, and my sole mission became escape and return. Those who know me now,
with my respectable paunch and long grey beard, may be surprised how fast I ran, but I
was something of a track star in those younger years. I ran, not towards Andrew’s
As I ran, I thought of Andrew’s sacrifice, so truly unexpected and therefore all the
more powerful. Insensate with drink, blind to Allah, he still had the fortitude and courage
to defend the righteous application of the Law, God’s will. And then I thought of our
times together: my long discourses on the Quran and the hadith, to which I had thought
him blind; the preparation of our “dirty bombs,” consisting of our bodily effluvia over the
past week kept in balloons, with which we assaulted the degenerate students of our
college; and, indeed, the lesson of Anakin Skywalker, become the dread cyborg Darth
Vader, seared into my memory from the incidents of that very day.
Being too ignorant of Allah, Andrew was not shaheed, and yet his cause was just
and righteous, and I knew then that some of them may hear the Word of Allah, and be
thereby saved.
Of course, I flew back home before the dawn, as their law was clearly that of man
and not God, and their ignorance prevented them from seeing righteousness. Aboard the
thrumming, too-cold airliner, as the blinding warmth of the sun broke before us, I
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dreamed of Al-Mashriq, the place of sunrise, where I would drink chai bil nana with my
family and friends, and be comforted by the music of adhan five times daily.
While it was my year of greatest confusion, it was also a time of practical lessons
to supplement those of my daily ayah. First, that our war is not one of race, or even
necessarily of “culture,” but of Belief against Unbelief. In this light, those who come to
us can be redeemed.
At first, some were fearful of allowing Westerners in, thinking them agents of the
Beast, and indeed many were. But truly, those who profess false belief are guilty of the
worst of sins, and were quickly culled from our ranks. Indeed, this is a “war of ideas,”
and we have learned much from the “informational warfare” and “psychological
operations” of our enemies. We have learned the doctrine of “divide and conquer,”
cracking the fault lines along the schisms of race and class just beneath the surface of the
Now, the Light of Allah is ascendant throughout Southeast Asia to the east, the
former soviet republics to the north, and Europe to our west. Now, the arrogant Beast is
broken and brought to its knees, and those who refuse to see the Light and hear the Word
shall suffer the torments which were visited upon our people.
For I have issued the fatwa, and the web of the Spider now hangs in tattered
shreds, but before his death he knew this: that his life is fleeting, and we will last forever.