Thursday, April 23, 2009

Khalil, my Dear Khalil

Aaaah, okay, admit it: you don’t like the Sensitive Me. You like the Hellion Me.

Just admit it. Okay, I’ll bite.

Fuck the Taliban. Fuck Sheik al Befuckedwadmohammed. TORTURE THEM.
Don’t come pansy-assed wring-your-hands-after-the-fact with someone who PERSONALLY BEHEADED somebody. Do you know what that requires?

(Warning: graphic detail):

You have to grab this guy, with a bunch of your male buddies looking on, all obviously uneasy, and you hold this human being like a sheep, ignore his screams, this human being who has more worth on this earth than 1,000 of you, and kill him personally, drawing the knife so deep across his throat that maybe it’s energizing the 709 virgins or whatever is going through your twisted mind, like what went through Mohammed Atta’s mind before he crashed his plane into the Trade Center, but how, how, can you expect any mercy, Khalil Sheik Mohammed? I personally would tear your heart out of your chest with no surgical instruments without a single qualm.

Where do I sign up?

Live by the sword, DIE BY THE SWORD. By my count, your 150+ waterboardings, YOU GOT OFF EASY.

Let the hand-wringing cease, as soon as possible.

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