THE JOB IS SIMPLE

Go to Cairo; find the supposed statue of Mohammad and destroy it! 

Okay, I said, where and with what? In the airport, they said, a hammer, we’ll supply you with one. Men..., sagde jeg. Amen! they said. Okay then, I said, but, I added, among my followers I’m known as the one and lonely travelling without a weapon. This time you don’t just serve your few followers, they said, this time you’re serving your nation! What nation? I said, I’m supposed to be universal, the average human. Forget the universe, they said, this time we ain’t just beating the old Bush, this time you’re up against the Prophet. Okay, I said, but how will I find him, Cairo is supposed to be overcrowded, polluted with bodies, isn’t it, how will I recognize him among the millions of followers, I never met him, only heard of him, you know, rumours, but I never even saw the fellow, so what does he look like, I said, small, swarthy and fattish and with that specified full beard, does he wear a turban and on top of it a bomb? Nope, they said, on the contrary, he is pale white, skinny, beardless, look! They showed me a picture. – Oh, Jesus! I said, - but that’s... Yeah, sure, they said, in the eyes of a European this (statue) looks exactly like... Me! I said. But, they said, in the eyes of an Arab, and particularly in the eyes of a Muslim Arab, and particularly in the eyes of a Muslim Arab of the Egyptian National Security Service this plaster statue looks suspiciously exactly like the Prophet Muhammad (may Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him!). Wow! I said, but how? How on earth do they know, the PM is dead isn’t he, he has been dead for thousands of years and no living man nor beast knows what on earth he looked like? They know, they said, the members of the Egyptian National Security Service knows everything. You understand, they said, every thing. Wow!

I looked at myself in the mirror. Hey, man, I said, so you are the one, the long-awaited, I said, that’s me, the one and lonely who is coming to bring peace and justice to the world.

The job is simple: Go to Cairo; find the supposed statue of Mohammad and destroy it! 1-2-3! I’ve done jobs like that before, simple jobs, but in odd places, remote corners of the world. I’ve been on missions to Iraq, the States, Dubai, Iran and Afghanistan. As a special envoy of the Europeans and the universal man I have introduced the Democracy into Iraq, failed to re-democratize the US, tried to catalyze a new, second and better revolution in Iran, walked the Flag of Friendship beyond Identity from the mountains and down into the Afghan capital Kabul. But never in my life as a special envoy have I had to destroy. But know the time has come. To destroy. My job is to find and destroy the supposed statue of the Prophet (may God’s peace and blessings be upon me!).

BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

The job is simple: Go to Cairo; find the supposed statue of the Prophet and destroy it! Sounds simple. Yeah. But what does it mean? I wonder. I, the universal human being, is emerging one fine day in Cairo carrying a hammer, lifting it and hugging the supposed statue of the Prophet into pieces, turning the supposed picture and image into dust. A simple action. But what does it mean. I wonder:

1. The destruction of Islam?

2. No, on the contrary: You are not allowed to depict neither God, nor his Prophet! And thus, the destruction of the supposed statue of the Prophet is a righteous act. By destroying the statue I am the law enforcer bringing justice into the world!  

3. But the statue has arrived from Europe, even from Denmark; it is a product of Denmark, that mother of insults. And I, though being the special envoy of the universal man, I am, in fact, and by that I mean reality, arriving from that damned motherland of insults. It must be an apology! By destroying the supposed statue of the Prophet, that product of Denmark, I am enacting and delivering the ultimate apology of all possible and impossible caricatures and depictions of the Prophet that any European and any Dane has ever in History drawn or created or just imagined. Excuse us! I say, with every destroying hug that falls with my hammer against/upon the face and body and limbs and plaster-pale bones of the Prophet. Excuse us! Excuse us! Excuse us! Excuse us ...