If you're going to believe all the bull shit they're telling you about these SEALS than you're crazy as bat shit.
What I'm talking about is, I keep reading the phrase, "Bin Laden lunged for his weapon," and it doesn't seem plausible. I mean he must have had at the very least...minutes, if not a great many seconds considering his life is on the line to lunge/grab/pickup/brandish a weapon while the SEALS were clearing out the 1st and 2nd floors. Did he not hear the commotion? Did he not hear the Blackhawks? The gun fire? He must of had time to sit there cradling his AK like a despondent puppy, waiting for daddy to come take it away.
I'm no expert, obviously, because last time I checked there weren't any SEALS injured in the raid so OBL must not have been packing heat (a couple weeks later as more details emerge, it appears he was armed with two women). His gun was probably in the room somewhere but that's beside the point. This was a kill mission, pure and simple. Look at all the other occupants in the house: Left cuffed for the Pakistani cops to clean up the SEALS' mess. I can picture them showing up and seeing all these dead bodies and people cuffed and Osama's mastermind all over the floor and it was like the devil swept through the house and disappeared into the night.
How in the hell could America detain this megalomaniac and give him a trial, and a fair one at that? Shit, he got his trial alright and the judge was a red snapper. Don't some people just deserve to die anymore? I can think of ten people off the top of my head. Give me some time and eventually you'll end up on that list too. Don't you long for the good ol' days, not even that long ago, when folks were holding placards outside the prison where Ted Bundy was being executed that advertised Bundy Burgers?
I want a Bin Laden Burger and I want it now.
Personally, If I was Obam--I mean, cough cough, Osama, I would have popped out of the shower, toweling my hair and pretended like nothing was wrong, like one casual dude. "Bin Laden? Never heard of 'em," I'd say in a thick Texan twang. "I'm just another ex-pat in Abbottabad, pardner. A simple computer programmer, that's all I am. U-S-A---U-S-A--" BAP! BAP!---a bullet hits his chest and then a bullet hits his head just above his left eye and blows bits of his skull and brains out. Skrains maybe? Maybe not. Take it however you like. You could touch the brain matter and it would still be hot from the electricity of life, from being where it should be--in a head.
Does the brain think for a few seconds even though it's not in the head? I would think the brain would think, "Ohhh, I'm a brain, I'm so smaaart, I can solve problems and tell the body what to do, I control the body like a slave, but how am I going to get off the ground and back into my cozy head?"
I am just too fascinated with this story. I can't get over it. It's great reality TV. I watched an animated clip posted online by NBC, I believe. Goddamn thing was only a minute long. I want the whole raid animated. Is it that hard? It wasn't like the animation was top notch.
Now, there's even a video game where you can play any character. Can I play the courier? Please? Please? Or maybe a goat? Ah well, at least the courier fired a few rounds before the SEALS shuffled off his mortal coil. That must have been nice.
Unlike that jerkoff lead singer in Fallout Boy, Patrick Stump, who doesn't think that it's morally proper, or some such righteous catchphrase, to celebrate the death of OBL, I have a feeling in my gut which tells me to disagree. I only know about this Stump guy from reading a little blurb in the Entertainment section, and also his pseudo-mediocre music if I'm to be totally honest. It's certainly alarming that Patrick Stump from Fallout Boy is the go to guy for a quote about the death of the most wanted terrorist in the world. Perhaps more than the actual death of Bin Laden. I want to know what Gary the Retard thinks a hell of a lot more than Patrick Stump, don't you? Stick to churning out dried turds in hot dog buns for people to put shove in their ears, kid.
Stump and OB. Sounds like a hard hitting Fox News Show. Fridays at 9pm.
How about the SEAL who grabbed the woman and pulled her away from the other SEALS when they entered the room containing OBL so that he could absorb the blast if she was wearing a vest. He will gladly accept total annihilation for his brothers. A lot of people talk the talk but it's a hell of a lonely walk. I can only grasp at the mental fortitude required of a SEAL.
On second thought, maybe I am a hero. I squash a centipede in my bedroom and I think, how dare he mess with the king of Nezbitland? I rule with an iron fist. My giant swatter doles out justice! I stamp out any revolution against the Nezbit government before it begins! Damn the rebels! There will be no change! The streets will run with blood if the infidels attempt to overrun me! Dictator Nezbit will not tolerate insubordination in his homeland!
Some of the centipedes' many legs were stuck to the wall, writhing like a fiver in the greasy fingers of an old timer down on pervert row.
Spiders, too beware. There was once a huge monster of a beast right outside my bathroom window. He was always there waiting for me every night when I took a shower. Always flinched when I turned on the taps, too. He was a sensitive one, that spider. I couldn't get at him though; he was just outside the gates of Nezbitland. It appeared as those he hovered in mid air, this leader of the rebels. Big Daddy I called him. Come rain, wind, hell or high water there he was. I had fantasies of my own reconnaisance kill mission...
I consulted with my top officials and we resolved to purchase insect repellant that shot a massive concentrated spray. You see, my screens are permanently in place, I cannot open them and use my giant swatter. Unlike the Bin Laden raid where the intelligence had a high percentage of probability that he was inside that compound, I knew 100% damn well this sonofabitch was right outside and there was fuck all I could do. I pressed my mouth to the screen and gave a good long blow but that only made Big Daddy mad. I didn't want to piss him off. I wanted him to give him the illusion of safety until I attempted an ambush.
I never did get the repellant that shot the fire hose of death (general apathy maybe?) and Big Daddy just kept living the dream, taunting me with his very existence outside of my gates. This Cold War lasted six months. I mean I only saw or was near him for ten minutes every night as I showered and then I forgot about him, so that can explain the lack of initiative. The plans got lost in the bureaucracy of the Nezbitland government and I as ruler, unlike Obama, never pulled the trigger on the operation.
Then one day Big Daddy just disappeared and I never saw him again. I had long ago incorporated him into my routine and was now neurotic that he wasn't there. Now....I didn't know where he was. Big Daddy has escaped! Sound the alarms! I put Nezbitland under a nine o'clock curfew and checked all the nooks and crannies in my bathroom. Has the hunter become the hunted?
One of the funnier headlines in recent days, was "Disney wants to trademark Bin Laden killers."
When they go after Al Qaeda's number two man, Ayman Al Zawahiri, the SEALS will have Mickey Mouse ears on their helmets.
I wait for the day.