Monty Python once made a satiric film on the life of Christ, called, instead, The Life of Brian. The run time was a bit long, as usually with the Python boys, drug doused, satiric and totally irreverent.
In response, aroused American religious fanatics stormed the box office, demanding tickets to the showings. No one thinks it was as good as the other Python religious satire, The Holy Grail, where fought "the Knights that go nik-nik-nik." For me, the greatest Python of them all had two of the troupe discussing the potential purchase of a deceased, dead, kaput, passed away parrot in a pet shop.
Yet, I digress, for there were no religious implications to the dead parrot sketch. At least, I could not see any religious doctrine. The parrot was just dead but he was very dead and gone.
One wonders just how much to say about the firestorm touched off by the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a propoganda film of basest motives and poorest production qualities. In response to that cinematic dud, enraged Jewry rose as one and swamped the phone banks at B'Nai B'rith. Hundreds of trees are planted in Israel whenever the mess is shown in a theater.
But, try as we might, we can find no real criminal activity around the showing of these films, unless one counts the fact the producers should almost certainly be arrested for poor work.
"Stop them, " the movie goers cry. "Stop them before they film again."
Which brings us to a silly little fourteen minute movie trailer most of the world has not yet suffered through. Their own non-suffering not withstanding, this looked like a great chance to fomet unrest in a super unstable region of the world (Rodeo Drive and Sunset Blvd), so, naturally, friends of the Arab world were attacked in an embassy in Libya.
Slogans were yelled. Walls were climbed. The bounty on Salmon Rushdie was raised by a fatwah, since, of course, Mr. Rushdie had nothing to do with the film at all. Smoke was released, the ambassador rushed into a safe room, the smoke got in and four people died.
Welcome to the Arab Spring. These guys could use a bit of organization and a smidgen of maturity.
What we are told, now, is that the Moslem religion, which, after all, is the Moslem state, is in a stage of adolescence. In not more than 300 years the Arabs will have accepted free speech, freedom of religion, right of assembly, a free press, et l. We just have to make it through these next three centuries.
Now, I only raised four teenagers, none of them Moslem. I admit the circumstances were different. I insisted on participatory dictatorship. If any of my sins or my daughter acted like a nine year old in private or public, they got to participate fully in whatever decision made by their Supreme Dictator, Dad. No need to pray, to plead, to promise. I issued a fiat, removed privileges, offered suggestions and advice as to how to keep from killing persons in the future and off we went.
A teenager is a child (emotions) in an adult body (hormones, hormones, hormones). The child is surprised by his adult abilities. The adult is confused by the childish impulses he still feels.
If the Arab spring is a teenager needing discipline, a grown person must come forward to act out the image of a modern major general. Call in the parents. We have seen enough of the clowns.
Opinions expressed here are mine alone.