A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the
scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The
frog asks, "How do I know you won't sting me?" The scorpion
says, "Because if I do, I will die too."
The frog is satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream,
the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of
paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown,
but has just enough time to gasp "Why?"
Replies the scorpion: "Its my nature..."
Europe, remember Aesop's fable of the scorpion and the frog? French Brussels, you're the frogs, no offense.
Regarding such fables as largely the province of the young and/or inexperienced when coupled with the core meaning of the term 'fabulous'--extraordinarily large--leads to what has just sprouted in Brussels.
And it ain't that other kind of fabulous.
Which brings us to the universally appropriate filmic warning to all who would collaborate by way of silence and/or indifference, 'Casablanca'.
For this repurposed warning let us revisit the plot lines and relearn the lessons of this dark fable, itself treating of both old and sadly redundant experience.
The insouciant puissant embodied by the Prefect of Police in Vichy's so-called Free French outpost in Moorish Africa knows who's who, what's what; nevertheless, the status quo of its honeycombed hiding place for freedom seekers and fighters suits this symbol of authority provided his needs are met. That those 'needs' are so easily confused with desires is the very rub which leads inevitably to friction--the sort that goes boom, innocents be damned.
Fabulously relocating our venue to another continent whose site just happens to be the capital of the very Union of Europe lends the sort of critical mass known as weapons of mass destruction personified by the modern (postmodern?) reprise of ancient fanaticism's kamikazes with their explosive death-dealing in the perverse name of Islamic 'liberation'.
The complacent constabulary, lulled into assimilative fatuity by the latest German authority--this one smilingly inviting another semitic horde of refugees to Europa's bosom--has now become 'shocked' from its going-along European Arcadia, only it's the kind of shock uniformed martinet types of today like to call 'shock and awe'. And this time it's brought to them.
Like Louis the Prefect of sandy Casablanca, this official-dumb knew where, even how these usual suspects dwelt, and, once awakened by their Parisian counterparts, now desperately seek out--albeit always after the fact--just when, why and who they're a bit fuzzy on.
Great Jumping Jehoshaphat, is liberal open society--whether in ancient Europe or adolescent America--a bloody suicide pact, and literally?!
Round up the usual suspects, for the love of a far less violent (at least since the Old Testament days) supreme deity, before it's too late.
Oh, wait, it might well be thus; yes, too late, given the million or so un-vetted Muslim refugees now deeply imbedding with what one commentator calls 'constellations' versus mere networks of potential Islamic 'freedom fighters' ready to nail and ball-bearing us to smithereens in the name of their version of a once Japanese emperor.
It would seem, given the ex post facto awareness now stalking European authorities, that they've reenacted 'Casablanca', alright---just as the Epstein Brothers had their revelation at that red light on Sunset Blvd. after filming had already commenced.
Perhaps Brussels has its own Sunset thoroughfare---pray that the rounding up of these well-known suspects will be thorough, and less foolishly 'fair', given the Sun now setting on European civilization's civil society.