The Excellence of Manliness
When the terrorist, naked from the waist up—what’s up with that? Did he see too many Tarzan movies as a little Jihadist child?—emerged from the bathroom with a rifle, decades of solemn advice from “the authorities” flaked away like dust under a power washer. The authorities on that French train did a Monty Pythonesque King Arthur: “run away! Run away!” Run they did, locking doors behind them, apparently imagining they were safe, or at least that the Islamist alligator would eat them last.