Muslims WorldWide

What’s left of ancient Roman Palmyra ruins – Video

Saved thanks to Russia. Drone footage. It was too beautiful even for ISIS to destroy. Seems like half of it is still there judging by some of the drone footage. The artefacts are probably looted and sold all over the world for more jihad funds.

One of the stories that stood out was a report on Russian Special Operations Forces officer who called a strike onto himself when he was compromised and surrounded by IS militants near Palmyra. Thanks to the brave actions of this officer and others, Russian military planes have been able to pinpoint IS targets with precision – something absolutely crucial in the circumstances.

A Russian TV crew captured a striking footage of Palmyra revealing the damage endured under IS occupation. The iconic 2,000-year-old Arch of Triumph was blown up by the jihadists in October 2015.


The History of Queen Zenobia of Palmyra

There’s a pretty entertaining version of the life of Roman Queen Zenoba, the creator of the Palmyra we see in the ruined remains, and written for today’s audience.

We’ve ripped it from

Julia Aurelia Zenobia was born sometime around 240 AD in the amazingly-advanced Syrian oasis paradise city of Palmyra.  She was tall and beautiful, with dark eyes, dark complexion, and perfect white teeth. From a wealthy, powerful family, she is believed to have been a mix of Semetic, Arab, Macedonian and Egyptian descent – she claimed direct descent from both Cleopatra and Dido of Carthage, which is kind of dubious because Dido of Carthage totally wasn’t actually even a real person.  Regardless, she was very well-educated, spoke fluent Latin, Syrian, Greek, and Egyptian, studied Homer and Plato in the original ancient Greek, and used to keep a running book documenting Asian history so she could refer to it for her own personal use any time she needed to come up with a bomb-ass multi-layer burn while dealing with some idiot rival king.

At some point, Zenobia married Septimius Odenathus, a badass dude with a bitchin’ gigantic lumberjack beard who had just taken over a big-time army that was stomping balls in the general vicinity of Palmyra. These two apparently hit it off like something out of a white trash romantic comedy, because instead of taking long walks on the beach and buying each other a new Lexus for the holidays they used to enjoy going out into the fucking wilderness with bows, spears, and javelins and hunting shit like bears, panthers, and wild lions. Odenathus was famous throughout the land for being a hardcore murderer of man-eating wild animals, and “the ardor of Zenobia in that dangerous amusement was not inferior to his own”. She also refused to ride in those prissy carriages that princesses like to weld out of giant pumpkins, and instead would always be seen galloping around on ultra-fast Arabian war horses while wearing an awesome cape made out of a fucking jaguar she’d killed with an arrow to the dome.

Now Odenathus’s family had been granted Roman citizenship by the Emperor Septimius Severus in the 190s, but Rome was in some serious fucking shit during the Third Century. It’s so bad they call it “The Crisis of the Third Century”, when they write textbooks about it, so you can kind of get the idea that this wasn’t exactly the sort of era were legions were racking balls up from the Indus to the Elbe. Well, at one point, the famous Christian-murdering Emperor Valerian tried to fight the mighty Persian Empire and got his dick smashed with a ten-ton ball-peen hammer. Valerian was taken prisoner, and all hell broke out. All told, there were 26 different emperors over the course of about a hundred years, and most of them were about as competent as a slice of pepperoni pizza (and lasted about as long as well).

On the surface, Odenathus and Zenobia stayed loyal to Rome in the Crisis, but basically a weak Roman Empire meant these guys could go off and do whatever the balls they wanted without having to worry about some dipshit Emperor telling them to slow their roll. Odenathus and Zenobia personally led armies across Persia, winning a big battle at Carrhae and besieging their capital. They conquered lands from the Turks in Anatolia, and fought off a full-scale invasion of a Gothic horde that showed up across the Bosporous with a bunch of long hair and wallet chains and Slipknot albums. And the best part is because they were doing all of this technically as a Roman Ally, they were both recognized by the Roman Senate as “great defenders of the Empire.”

Well one day Odenathus and Zenobia were out knife-hunting for tigers or some shit when Odenathus’s nephew Maeonius was a total dick and took the first shot of the hunt (note: this is always the job of the King). Odenathus told this kid he fucked up, but Maeonius was a spoiled entitled fucking brat about it, so Odenathus took Maeonius’s horse away and made the teenager walk home from the hunt, which is like the ancient equivalent of having to walk home from the roller skating rink because you accidentally said the word “bitch” to your mom. Maeonius got all butthurt, found a couple disgruntled noblemen, and they all murdered Odenathus and his son (Zenobia’s stepson) at a dinner party. Then Maeonius had the fucking balls to declare (at the party!) that he should be emperor now because he was next in line anyway.

Big mistake, kid.

Zenobia didn’t just have this kid beheaded. That would have been letting him off too easily. No, instead she personally sacrificed him and all of his co-conspirators on the altar of the Temple of Baal, offering them up as human sacrifices to appease the spirit of her husband in the underworld.

Fuckin’ a.

Zenobia then immediately assumed control of the Palmyran Empire she had helped create, and prepared to ram it into the ram-hole of anyone who fucked with her. As Septimia Zenobia Augusta, she ruled over an empire that stretched from Persia to Rome. From her oasis city of Palmyra, she built temples, palaces, and massive buildings in the Greek columned style of architecture. She balanced the economy, forged alliances with Arabia, Armenia, and Persia, and established trade caravans that ran from India to Rome to Parthia. She even got her image on a coin, which is something that never happened with women rulers in ancient history, so that should show you how cool everyone thought she was.

During this time, Rome was even more fucked, with Emperors stabbing each others’ rectums every time they turned around, so Zenobia decided fuck this, I’m not even going to pretend any more. She declared her own Empire, made herself the Queen of the East, and fucking invaded goddamn Egypt with a tremendously-gigantic army. Tens of thousands of light infantry, all armed with arrows and javelins, stormed ahead, supported by fucking badass Cataphract Heavy Cavalry decked out in the biggest, baddest full suits of armor you can imagine. Trampling around the desert like second-century T-72s, she demolished the Egyptian army, took Alexandria (which she claimed was her “ancestral home” due to her descent from Cleopatra), and sent a second army north to capture Ankara in Turkey.

At a time when women rulers weren’t exactly normal or accepted or not-brutally-murdered-in-their-sleep, Zenobia’s soldiers actually totally super loved her – because instead of hiding in a palace behind a pile of gold she would lead from the front. Riding up and down the lines on horseback to encourage the men, she would scream pump-up words to get them inspired to fight. During the marches, she would get on foot and walk miles alongside the troops, realizing that staying in sight would help the warriors win victories for their Queen.

“The Roman people speak with contempt of the war which I am now waging against a woman.
They are ignorant of both the character and the power of Zenobia.  It is impossible to enumerate her warlike preparations, of stones, of arrows, and of every species of missile weapons.  Every part of the walls is provided with two or three ballista, and artificial fires are thrown from her military engines.  The fear of punishment has armed her with desperate courage.”
– Emperor Aurelian


Ok, well, capturing Egypt kind of pissed off Rome. They sent a Legion after her, commanded by Legate Probus, a guy we really don’t know a whole lot about except that he was the military commander of North Africa. He attacked, but his forces were no match for Zenobia’s battle-hardened troops – his army was smashed, the Roman governor of Egypt was beheaded, and Probus went back to Rome as one of the few men from his legion to not die gloriously in the field of battle.

In 272 AD the situation settled down a little, and a badass Roman infantryman named Aurelian clawed his way to the throne of the Empire. Aurelian had gone from soldier to general to emperor, consolidated Roman power, and now he was going after the riches of the Palmyran Empire. He invaded with a huge number of front-line Roman troops, all battle-hardened from conflicts with the Goths and the Gauls, and headed out into the desert. Zenobia personally took command and faced Aurelian a few hundred miles from her capital. Her heavy cavalry overran the Roman horsemen, but her archers weren’t effective against the infantry – the legions were simply too powerful and too well-armored. She was defeated twice. Then she “retired within the walls of her capital, made every preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared with the intrepidity of a heroine that the last moment of her reign and her life should be the same.”

Her defensive strategy was fantastic. She forced Aurelian to marched his army a hundred miles through the desert, and she had her light cavalry hit him every step of the way. Arabian horsemen attacked the baggage trains and supply convoys. Horse archers took shots during the day and set fires at night. It was honestly the same strategy that Saladin would use a thousand years later to defeat Richard the Lionheart in the Third Crusade.

By the time Aurelian reached the walls of Palmyra, he saw a humongous fortress bristling with archers and giant siege weapons that could hurl high-explosive Greek fire bombs hundreds of yards with pinpoint accuracy.

Queen Julia Aurelia Zenobia, the creator of the Syrian oasis paradise city of Palmyra

Aurelian immediately offered incredibly favorable terms for surrendering the city. Zenobia told him to fuck off.

The Romans set up for a siege, but Zenobia held out hope that they wouldn’t last long in the desert. She sent riders to Persia asking for help, but only heard that the Persian king had just died and the Empire was in a civil war over who should succeed him. That news got worse when she received word from her men in Egypt – not only was Egypt not sending help, but they’d rebelled against Zenobia and were now sending a huge army to reinforce Rome.

Palmyra’s ancient queen Queen Zenobia’s last look upon Palmyra.

Zenobia knew she needed to get out and personally appeal for help, so she got on her fastest camel and made a break for it, riding right through the Roman siege lines in the middle of the night to try and get help.

She didn’t make it. The Romans got word of her escape and sent horsemen after her. She was captured near the Euphrates River and brought back to Aurelian to negotiate terms.

We don’t really know exactly what happened to Zenobia at this point. One story says that in a defiant last act of queenly heroism she killed herself by drinking poison rather than submit to the will of Rome. Another story says that Aurelian was so damn impressed with her composure, intelligence, beauty, and regalness that he actually set her free, gave her a big estate in Rome, and that she ended up marrying a wealthy Roman aristocrat, had a bunch of daughters, and lived happily ever after. Both are equally credible stories from equally credible sources, so we have no idea.

We do know what happened to Palmyra. Aurelian was actually pretty lenient with the city – he looted some riches, set up a governor and a garrison, and left the city and the people unharmed. Of course, as soon as he turned around the Palmyrans murdered the entire garrison and decapitated the governor, so Aurelian turned back around and burned the whole place to the ground. I guess these things happen sometimes.


Gibbon, Edward. The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Vol 2. Tourneisen, 1787.

Southern, Pat. Empress Zenobia. AC & Black, 2008.

2 thoughts on “What’s left of ancient Roman Palmyra ruins – Video


    (Dear Reader, have you not had enough of the beguiling double-talk that our leaders have refined to an art-form?………let us speak plainly then, to my essay “What Will You Do”)


    You were warned Britain.

    You were warned Europe.

    You were warned as you turned your backs on your countries and sold the same to the communist dictators in Brussels, the same dictators who now rule and destroy your nations with fists of iron, with the choking, strangling totalitarian fists of quintessential absolute rule. And now, defenceless and impotent, you watch as the Leftist handmaiden, the Muslim, a sickening group of pedophiles and fanatical lunatics, smears the filth and vulgarity of its Islam on your beloved countries.

    You deserve nothing less for as you abandoned the toil of countless generations, as you abandoned the gifts of your forefathers, gifts paid for with their very lives, as you abandoned providential favour, so too shall you be abandoned.

    Britain and many European countries; you have been abandoned by your monarchy, but could you expect any less as it was you who abandoned your monarchy? Now kings and queens, self indulgent, indifferent paper tigers each and every one, watch from the ramparts as their wretched subjects are made fodder and grist for Muslim meatgrinders.

    You have been abandoned by your politicians who now serve new masters. Politicians who now are little more than panhandling monkeys rattling tin-cups for their organ grinding Muslim masters. Duplicitous little monkeys whose rattling echoes now violate the hallways once haunted by great men and women, mocking rattles that now drown out the echoes of the uplifting, of the commanding voices of Churchill, of Enoch Powell, of Disreali, of Victoria, of Elizabeth, of Wellington, of Nelson, of those souls who swore an oath through glorious song;

    “The nations, not so blest as thee, must, in their turns, to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free, the dread and envy of them all. “Rule, Britannia! rule the waves: “Britons never will be slaves.”……….

    You have been abandoned by virtually every one of your law enforcement agencies, agencies whose members tongues now provide, at the shrieking, shrill Muslim beck and call, cleaning services for every Muslim ass and boot tip. As if that were not enough whilst they clean the arses of Muslims in your ears rings the screams of your defenseless women and daughters as they are gang raped, molested and pimped by your grunting drooling Muhammadan masters. Oh how these Muhammadans must wet their pants with peals of laughter, laughing and giggling as, at their disposal for their violent and grotesque sexual pleasures are your wives, your sisters, your daughters and your children, a virtual Islamic meat-market

    You have been abandoned by your intelligence agencies who can now do nothing but tell you of your impending fate; a dirty little secret, that you and your families are about to be butchered at the leisure and pleasure of Islamic animals. How rich.

    You have been abandoned by your Judiciary who, on wings of black from the very pinnacle of sneering arrogance, render verbose Judicial lunacy, vomitous drivel the very definition of treason and sedition, all whilst ignoring mountains of evidence and your criminal code in favor of the madness of leftist political correctness, turning mass murderers and mad dogs loose amongst you, and you do nothing, still you do nothing.

    You have been abandoned by legions of professors and school masters who carve up and destroy the minds of your children and then with the little that is left over of your precious gifts, they poison that with liberal leftist Islamic rhetoric turning your children into traitors with a seething hatred of themselves, their country and their magnificent heritage.

    You have been abandoned by your clergy as these grasping little clerics, loathed by God himself, Archbishop’s Welby and Williams, hike their robes and offer England’s collective soul to be sodomized by the filthy hoards of those dusky hued animals; illiterate, base, verminous, savage and barbaric Muslims, animals who seek the sexual favours of toddlers and domestic livestock. How utterly sickened the Christ must be to watch such a mocking scene from on high, but alas, were there any two little worms who were more deserving of the fate more than Beckett, it is these two clowns. Yet still, your blindness compounds your ignorance, compounds your cowardice; still you allow them the destruction of your nations soul.

    And to all of this what will you do? What will you do as the laughter of the Muslim rings off the rooftops of mosques from Melilla to Madrid to Medina to Mecca to Montreal and every place in between?

    What will you do as Western civilized democratic societies, the greatest success story in the history of Mankind, are turned into catch basins for waves upon waves of human garbage, Humanity’s lowest common denominator, a precious gift from the Middle East and Africa, as the Third-World flushes its emigration toilet? What will you do?

    Will you arm yourselves? Will you find the courage God gave you? Will you find your spines and your Manhood? Will you rise to defend your women and your children? Will you rise in honour of your ancestor’s blood soaked gift of freedom?

    Will you arm yourselves and walk over those aforementioned cowards who have abandoned you? Will you appeal to the decency of military men to rally among themselves and form battalions loyal to England, loyal to their countries, loyal to that which birthed and nourished them and not to those treasonous bootlickers in the Parliaments who call themselves your political representatives, your political masters?

    Will you arm yourselves and arrest and put to trial those law enforcement officers and officials who ignore the boundless criminality of the Muslim? And then will you have the courage to execute the sentences you have passed on those treasonous officers and officials who have done your nations such harm?

    Will you arm yourselves, kick down the courthouse doors and arrest the Judiciary and the cancerous legal industry whose actions, the very manifest definition of treason and sedition, seek to protect the Muslim, seek to turn loose the Muslim mass murderers among your women and children, seek to turn predators loose on your streets? Will you set these destroyers of your nations before military tribunals to account for their crimes?

    Will you arm yourselves and take back your streets, your schools, your businesses, your places of worship, your law courts and your Parliaments from the Muslim? Will you have the courage to remove every single vestige, every last shred of Islam, every last Muslim from the shores of England, from every corner of Europe?

    Will you have the courage to remove every single mosque, the virtual monuments to filth and lunacy, virtual monuments to your humiliation, from your cities and towns and resolve that never again will you allow animals to build their dens of treasonous, genocidal, mass murderous ideology on British soil, on the fertile soil of Europe?

    Will you, brick by vulgar brick, dismantle every minaret, minarets from which blares the sound of your present and future, which blares the requiem mass of Western civilization?

    Will you do this, all of this so that peace and quiet will settle once more on those lands “that Freemen till” ?

    What will you do England……?

    What will you do Europe…..?

    What will you do?

    Ross Wilson
    Boseman, Montana

    Post Script:

    I am reminded of the words of one of my very favorite poets, Victorian Poet Laureate, Alfred Lord Tennyson, as he pondered “You ask me Why”

    You Ask Me, Why, Tho’ Ill at Ease

    You ask me, why, tho’ ill at ease, within this region I subsist, whose spirits falter in the mist, and languish for the purple seas.

    It is the land that freemen till, that sober-suited Freedom chose, the land, where girt with friends or foes, a man may speak the thing he will;

    A land of settled government, a land of just and old renown, where Freedom slowly broadens down from precedent to precedent;

    Where faction seldom gathers head, but by degrees to fullness wrought, the strength of some diffusive thought hath time and space to work and spread.

    Should banded unions persecute opinion, and induce a time, when single thought is civil crime, and individual freedom mute;

    Tho’ Power should make from land to land the name of Britain trebly great, tho’ every channel of the State should fill and choke with golden sand—

    Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth, Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky, and I will see before I die; the palms and temples of the South.

    -Alfred Lord Tennyson, Poet Laureate, Victorian England


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