It’s a Charlie Hebdo world—a place where “free speech” means the freedom to depict the Pope in drag with the caption “Ready for anything in order to win some clients?”  Where “liberty” means crude drawings, of the sort one might see on a men’s room wall, showing the Holy Trinity in a series of sexual positions.  Where the image of Muhammad—venerated by over a billion people the world over—is regularly degraded in a series of crudely sexualized images designed not only to offend but to provoke violence.  No wonder one of the magazine’s cofounders remarked that the late editor of Charlie Hebdo had “dragged the team to its death.”

Imagine if an American magazine were to print a cartoon of MLK’s sexual adventures, real and imagined, and the Black Guerilla Family bombed their editorial office and wiped out the staff.  Would tens of thousands of people, egged on by the international media, be marching in the streets shouting, “Je suis David Duke”?  Don’t make me laugh.

Immediately after the March of the Hypocrites—with some of the worst rights abusers on earth leading the parade—the Frenchies cracked down and arrested 54 people for speech “crimes.”  Among the detainees was the clownish Dieudonné, a comedian who remarked he didn’t feel like Charlie Hebdo but instead felt like Amedy Coulibaly, the Islamist thug who slaughtered four people in a kosher delicatessen shortly after the Charlie Hebdo massacre.  Dieudonné is the other side of the Charlie Hebdo coin.

As Christopher Booker, the first editor of Private Eye, a real satirical magazine, put it in the Telegraph,

There has been no better comment on the clouds of humbug recently billowing in all directions than the admission of BBC employees that they are under an edict from apparatchiks on high that they must not on any account describe to their audiences the contents of any of those Charlie Hebdo cartoons.

Of course they didn’t want ordinary people to know about the kind of filth the political elites were valorizing, because the first reaction of the average Brit would be to say they had it coming.  To see David Cameron—a man whose government threatened to shut down a newspaper because the editors dared print the truth about the Spy State—at the head of the “Je suis Charlie” parade was enough to make any honest man’s stomach churn.  Fortunately for the PM, there are very few of those left in the country.

Honesty is now a “hate crime” in the land of the Magna Carta, where Scotland Yard recently announced—on Twitter—that they were monitoring comments, and any deemed “inappropriate” would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.  As in France, an “offensive” tweet can put you behind bars.

Even here in America, where formal adherence to the First Amendment is the first bromide to come out of a politician’s mouth, the reality is quite different.  Historically, the First Amendment has been the first to be tossed overboard in wartime, as Eugene Debs found out during World War I, and Lawrence Dennis and his fellow “seditionists” discovered during World War II.  During the Cold War communists were regularly locked up, and today our endless “War on Terror” has made government whistleblowers into criminals under the provisions of the Espionage Act.  This is the kind of country where torturers roam free, while John Kiriakou, who revealed the torture regime to Congress and the media, is just now getting out of jail.

It’s fitting that the symbol of Western freedom should be a magazine so obscene that the major media refuse to run images of its covers.  The radical wing of the surviving staff of Charlie Hebdo was sorely disappointed that their combination propaganda campaign and porn festival wasn’t universally observed.  Far from abhorring violence, they seek to incite it—and if there aren’t any Muslims around to be offended, they’ll settle for Catholics.

A pitiful publication that never hit 50,000 subscribers is now going for thousands of dollars per copy on eBay, and is the proud recipient of a French government subsidy, enough to print 1.5 million copies for clueless frogs who stood in line to get one.  Somewhere that old fraud Andy Warhol is snickering.

As the French send the Charles de Gaulle into the Mediterranean, cruising the coast near the ancient cities of Latakia and Tartus, and French and American jets dump their payloads in the Syrian desert, Charlie Hebdo’s war is launched—a jihad against the sacred, a pogrom of the pious.  The enemies they fight aren’t the Islamist animals who struck Paris: The real front is in the West, where the last remnants of the faithful are being defeated, felled by a corrosive poison that eats away at the soul.