Wingnut Annals: The Persecution and Assassination of Robert Spencer, as Performed by...

Well, Robert Spencer, mostly, because he fortunately survived this despicable and cowardly attack long enough to write it up. You can see his byline at lower left:

It seems Spencer was innocently minding his own business, which is spreading hatred and fear of persons of the Muslim faith (he's the editor of the JihadWatch blog, as I learn from Paul Fontaine at the Reykjavík Grapevine, listed by the SPLC as a purveyor of hate and racism, and has been barred from Britain, in 2013, on the grounds that his presence would be "not conducive to the public good"), in the Grand Hótel of Reykjavík, having wound up his lecture on the threat of jihad, adjourning to a local hostelry with some fellow hatemongers to celebrate his success, when he was accosted by a young man of apparently harmless demeanor, who smiled, claimed to be a huge fan of Spencer and his work, and effusively took his hand and shook it, after which another young man of apparently harmless demeanor approached, looked Spencer directly in the eye, still smiling, and said, "Fuck you."


Which made Spencer feel the better part of valor would be to forget about partying and retire to his hotel, which he did, but fifteen minutes later he found himself seized by a numbness in his extremities, trembling, and need to vomit. He ended up spending the night in a hospital, where, sure enough, the medical staff found that he seemed to have been drugged.

I was hoping it was the handshake, like some story of Bulgarian assassins from the 1970s, but he thinks the concoction, whatever it was, must have been poured into his drink, though I'm not quite clear how the attackers managed that in the interval between the handshake and the "fuck you" without being seen. But Spencer assures the readers that he does not use any medications, so he could not imagine how else the stuff had "gotten into my bloodstream."

For several days thereafter I was ill, but I did get to Reykjavik’s police station and gave them a bigger case than they have seen in good awhile. The police official with whom I spoke took immediate steps to identify and locate the principal suspects and obtain the restaurant’s surveillance video. 

Iceland is a small country. Everyone knows everyone else. And so as it happened, I was quickly able to discover the identity, phone number, and Facebook page of the primary suspect, the young man who claimed he was a “big fan.” I don’t intend to call him.  Icelandic police will be contacting him soon enough, if they haven’t done so already. 

Well, something about the story didn't seem quite right to me, and I started looking around and quickly found that Grapevine article, and even got a look at his medical report from the University Hospital, obtained by blogger Hjálmar Friðriksson, and learned that

1. a urine test got a positive read for amphetamine and MDMA or, as it is "known" on the "street" (or used to be 30 years ago, what do I know), Ecstasy,
2. his symptoms had been "most consistent with a panic attack",
3. he had reported that stress was "a significant problem in his life related to his work" and the doctors advised him to try to decrease that if he could, and
4. no arrests have been made so far.

Leading me to suspect that Spencer may have been more aware of what was in his drink than he claimed, and those berserker Icelander leftists may have not had anything to do with it. Just sayin.