Whatever happened to Osama? It seemed for a short stretch there we had a villain of epic proportions on our hands. Fuck Noriega, fuck Khomeini, fuck whoever it was in Grenada that got all uppity. We haven't had a villain with as much promise as Osama since Castro.
Those eyes; that beard; the AK-47 footage. Every piece was in place for this fragile young century's first Supervillain to ascend to the world stage and just cackle and cackle.
I wanted to dislike the guy. He had complexity. A little Robin Hood, a little Messiah complex, a little Theocratic Overlordism. He was the complete package. Nothing bonds like a common enemy, and I managed to whip up a good lather of hating the motherfucker. Then, like Kaiser Soze, he's gone.
I called up Sec. Def. Donny Rum and gave him an earful.
'Don, bubby, where's the Bin? The kids used to be screaming from OBL nightsweats and now they can't muster a shrug."
He got all defensive. "Who's not scared? You? He'll flip you; Osama will flip your fucking ass for real."
"Don, I'm not buying it."
DonRum tried the back door. "But we can't find him. You think its so easy, keeping the whisper of his robes in the back of crowded American minds? It is hard.god.damn.work, what with your iPods and blogs and bestiality pay-sites that feature little blonds fellating livestock."
"He's in Pakistan, Don, get a grip. More kids are scared by Michael Jackson. Hell, you give me a choice, I'd rather spend 24 hours with Osama than with Jacko. And I'm a registered voter."
We tried to kill Castro with an exploding cigar. We called Germans 'Huns', and made sure the common man knew they were after his white women. We started a war with the Spanish, for christ's sake. And we can't get a little PR for the orchestrator of the worst attack on American soil since the Luftwaffe kamikazied into Coney Island and killed 12 of the remaining 62 Kennedys? For shame, America, for shame.
Those eyes; that beard; the AK-47 footage. Every piece was in place for this fragile young century's first Supervillain to ascend to the world stage and just cackle and cackle.
I wanted to dislike the guy. He had complexity. A little Robin Hood, a little Messiah complex, a little Theocratic Overlordism. He was the complete package. Nothing bonds like a common enemy, and I managed to whip up a good lather of hating the motherfucker. Then, like Kaiser Soze, he's gone.
I called up Sec. Def. Donny Rum and gave him an earful.
'Don, bubby, where's the Bin? The kids used to be screaming from OBL nightsweats and now they can't muster a shrug."
He got all defensive. "Who's not scared? You? He'll flip you; Osama will flip your fucking ass for real."
"Don, I'm not buying it."
DonRum tried the back door. "But we can't find him. You think its so easy, keeping the whisper of his robes in the back of crowded American minds? It is hard.god.damn.work, what with your iPods and blogs and bestiality pay-sites that feature little blonds fellating livestock."
"He's in Pakistan, Don, get a grip. More kids are scared by Michael Jackson. Hell, you give me a choice, I'd rather spend 24 hours with Osama than with Jacko. And I'm a registered voter."
We tried to kill Castro with an exploding cigar. We called Germans 'Huns', and made sure the common man knew they were after his white women. We started a war with the Spanish, for christ's sake. And we can't get a little PR for the orchestrator of the worst attack on American soil since the Luftwaffe kamikazied into Coney Island and killed 12 of the remaining 62 Kennedys? For shame, America, for shame.