At GSL, we love to watch videos to learn from them. Police Activity videos on YouTube are a treasure trove of real-life examples of tactics that work, and those that don’t. So we watched the Ilhan Omar “spray” attack video a number of times. With the sound muted, of course.
Here it is. Watch it. It’s only a few seconds. See what you pick up and then we’ll dissect it.
Was her “security” incompetent —or more likely they were in on the script? An obviously loopy dude sits on the front row glowing like a neon sign and nobody chats him up or moves him to another seat elsewhere?
In the post-Charlie Kirk world, a U.S. Congress member’s town hall will have some security unless they have a very friendly, and capable audience – like a Guns Save Life meeting chock full of good guys with guns and who know how to use them. In Omar’s case, Team Security didn’t detect the obvious which makes most people think they were in on it.
Watching the attack several times, I think there was more than a little incompetence on display, too. The first security dude sort of half-jogs over and puts her attacker in a (bear?) hug, leaving her attacker facing Omar. If that had been competent security, not only would the loser not have been on the front row, but as soon as he stood up and reached towards her, they would have body checked him into next week, wrecking his ability to continue an attack.
Timing so perfect it deserves an Oscar nomination! Right after Ilhan Omar drops her mic-line demanding Kristi Noem resign (classic Omar bloviating energy), boom—this guy leaps into action like he heard his alarm clock and confused it with a starting gun. What surreptitious timing, right?
And the whole attack seems more than a little like Ilhan, the incest-loving and brother-marrying Somalian, set the whole thing up including the timing to deflect the investigation of her winery, and the Somalian scandals in her district.
Either way, the synchronization is giving off Broadway vibes, not random assault.
The infamous “go-ahead” head nod—because nothing says subtle like a conspiracy wink. Omar glances over, does what looks like a tiny nod right before the guy springs. Coincidence? Surrrreeeee.
Zero panic, zero “Is this acid?” energy. Dude lunges, squirts mystery goo (foul-smelling, unknown—could be anything from perfume to war crime juice), and Omar… barely flinches. No scream, no duck, no “WHAT IS THIS ON ME?!” If some rando blasts you with potential poison—or even just assumes it’s a gun—you’d flinch like your life depends on it. You might even draw your gun and light ’em up. Instead? Mild surprise at best. Cool as a cucumber. Why it’s almost as if she knew it wasn’t anything that would kill or disfigure her.
Because acid attacks never happen in Muslim nations, especially third-world crapholes in Africa.
Or America.
No, if this was a real attack and a real security team, her team would have thrown her into the nearest bathroom or shower, unceremoniously stripped her of clothes and irrigated the hell out of her skin.
She moved towards the attacker. How brave. Instead of yeeting herself backward (you know, basic self-preservation 101), Omar immediately storms toward the guy. Was she wanting to offer herself for a second, better application of the noxious substance? Too bad he only had one little syringe full of vinegar instead of a big old bottle – like a water bottle full of nasty sauce with a hole in the cap to facilitate spraying larger amounts of liquid.
The attacker sprayed her sweater, not her face. He doesn’t blast her face. Nope. Targets the sweater like she told him to not get it on her face (sound familiar guys? “Not on my face, please.”). How considerate. If this was real rage or a real attack, he would be dousing her face to make her look like a circus clown after six months of therapy and skin grafts. This? More like petty vandalism with extra drama.
No medical intervention? No hazmat? “I’ve got a speech to finish!” The clincher: Omar refuses any medical eval, hazmat sweep, or even a quick “what the hell is this stuff?” test. No hospital. No decontamination. She demands to keep yapping at the podium first.
Again, we’re calling bull you-know-what. It defies every personal defense tactic on the books.
My $$’s on felony root beer.