"again and again in the bar we wound up in late that night. And the fans move on, and you pick up your glass without a thought...Robert Spencer will never do that again."
There were those who found the comparison offensive - to whom I would on good-humored days grant that the two points on the same continuum were nevertheless some distance apart.
Well, they got considerably closer in Reykjavik last week.
Robert Spencer, the author of several bestselling books on Islam, a brave crusader against the dopier multiculti illusions and the proprietor of the indispensable Jihad Watch, gave a speech at the Grand Hotel, went to unwind at dinner afterwards, and was poisoned by a social-justice warrior. Here's Robert's account of what happened:
After the event, my security chief, the organizers of the event, Ms. Williams, and I went to a local restaurant to celebrate its success. But I was quickly recognized: a young Icelander called me by name, shook my hand, and said he was a big fan. Shortly after that, another citizen of that famously courteous land likewise called me by my name, shook my hand, and said "f*** you." ...
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