Below, read the inappropriate passages for minor children

Warning to PARENTS: (Do not read the below material if you are under 18 years of age)

The school board children’s “recommended books” list includes a book depicting homosexuality, pedophilia and a graphic scene of penetration.  I’ll bet you didn’t know.  The book, Kite Runner, was deemed of important educational value by the Conejo Valley Unified School Board with a single opposing member.

Page 6:  “I knew your mother real good.  I took her from behind by that creek over there.”

Page 7:  “What a tight little sugary cunt she had!” the soldier was saying.

Page 66: 11 year old boy (Hassan) raped and sodomized by an older boy (Assef) “A havoc of scrap and rubble littered the alley. Worn bicycle tires, bottles with peeled labels, ripped up magazines, yellowed newspapers, all scattered amid a pile of bricks and slabs of  cement.  A rusted cast-iron stove with a gaping hole on its side tilted against a wall.  But there were two other things amid the garbage that I couldn’t stop looking at.  One was the blue kite resting against the wall, close to the cast-iron stove; the other was Hassan’s brown corduroy pants thrown on a heap of eroded bricks.” “I don’t know,” Wali was saying.  “My father says it’s a sinful.”  He sounded unsure, excited, scared, all at the same time.  Hassan lay with his chest pinned to the ground.  Kamal and Wali each gripped an arm, twisted and  bent at the elbows so that Hassan’s hands were pressed to his back.  Assef was standing over them, the heel of his snow boots crushing the back of Hassan’s neck.””Your father won’t find out, ” Assef said.  “And there’s nothing sinful about teaching a lesson to a disrespectful donkey.” “I don’t know,” Wali muttered. “Suit yourself,” Assef said.  He turned to Kamal.  “What about you?” “I…well…””It’s just a Hazara,” Assef said.  But Kamal kept looking away. “Fine,”  Assef snapped.  “All I want you weaklings to do is hold him down.  Can you manage that?” Wali and Kamal nodded.  They looked relieved. Assef knelt behind Hassan, put his hands on Hassan’s hips and lifted his bare buttocks.  He kept one hand on Hassan’s back and undid his own belt buckle with his free hand.  He unzipped his jeans.  Dropped his underwear.   He positioned himself behind Hassan.  Hassan didn’t struggle.  Didn’t even whimper.  He moved his head slightly and I caught a glimpse of his face.  Saw the resignation in int.  It was a look I had seen before.  It was the look of the lamb…

page 67: …I stopped watching, turned away from the alley.  Something warm was running down my wrist.  I blinked, saw I was still biting down on my fist, hard enough to draw blood from the knuckles.  I realized something else.  I was weeping.  From just around the corner, I could hear Assef’s quick rhythmic grunts.Same edition, Penguin 2003Page 156.  Conversation between the protagonist Amir, now 24, and his wife Soraya who has been shamed for previously living out of wedlock with an Afghani who was into drugs in Washington DC. “It’s alright,” I said, pushing back her hair,”Who cares?” “It’s so fucking unfair,” she barked………(skip several paragraphs, continue bottom of same page 156) “Fuck ’em, ” I said. Same edition. Now Amir is 38.  He has lived in San Jose California for more than 20 years.  He is married.  He goes back to Afghanistan.  He is told that his former servant and friend Hassan is dead, and that he is really his half brother.  Amir goes to the orphanage to adopt Hassan’s little boy, who is really his half-nephew.  He is horrified to see that Assef is now in the Taliban, and is the Talib, the officer he must speak with to get the boy. Sohrab.  The boy is the plaything of Assef, who has dressed him in girl’s clothes and makeup.  Assef fondles the boy in front of Amir, rubbing his stomach and biting his ear, and making lewd remarks.  The boy cringes.  Assef tells Amir he can take the boy, but he must earn the right.  Assef takes out his brass knuckles, and beats Amir, breaking many bones, teeth, and breaking his spleen.  The little boy takes his slingshot and stops the torture by smashing Assef’s eye with a brass ball shot.  Very graphic details of the torture and the eye damage.

Page 244: ….Behind him a boy dressed in a loose, sapphire blue pirhan-tumban followed….His head was shaved, his eyes darkened with mascara, and his cheeks glowed with an unnatural red.  When he stopped in the middle of the room, the bells strapped around his anklets stopped jingling.

Page 245…Sohrab raised his arms and turned slowly.  He stood on tiptoes, spun gracefully, dipped to his knees, straightened, and spun again.  His little hands swiveled at the wrists, his fingers snapped, and his head swung side to side like a pendulum.  His feet pounded the floor, the bells jingling in perfect harmony with the beat of the tabla.  He kept his eyes closed….”Bia, bia, my boy,” the Talib said, calling Sohrab to him.  Sohrab went to him, head down, stood between his thighs.  The Talib wrapped his arms around the boy.  “How talented he is, nay, my Hazara boy!”  he said.  His hands slid down the child’s back, then up, felt under his armpits.  One of the guards elbowed the other and snickered.  The Talib told them to leave us alone.”Yes, Agha sahib,” they said as they excited.The talib spun the boy around so he faced me.  He locked his arms around Sohrab’s belly, rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder.  Sohrab looked down at his feet, but kept stealing shy, furtive glances at me.  The man’s hand slid up and down the boy’s belly.  Up and down, slowly, gently.

Page 249: “All I want is the boy””Tell me why,” Assef said.   He pinched Sohrab’s earlobe  between his teeth.  Let go.  Sweat beads rolled down his brow.”That’s my business.””What do you want to do with him?” he said.  Then a coy smile.  “Or to him.””That’s disgusting,”  I said.”How would you know?  Have you tried it?”