Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Hypocrisy Floats

I've made mention in the past of my legendary emotional detachment. So legendary is it, even for a reptile, were I in a comic book and became radioactive, anyone I bit would become a Supreme Court Justice. I also glean from my absolute analytical approach a keen sense of hypocrisy. It bubbles to the top of human organizations like cream on milk. No, that's not the right analogy. Like crude oil on surf. It floats. It always floats. Ooh! I just gave me the chills! Read that again. Can't you hear Tim Curry with a scary voice and clown make-up and a curled upper lip? “You'll float. They all float. Beep Beep, Richie!”

Only in this case it's beep beep Binny. As in Bin Laden. One of those Navy SEALS looked in just the right spot and there was a pile of decadent Western evil straight from the printing press of the Great Satan. The leader of Islam's militant heretics was crotch deep in one of their tenets which justify genocide. As I'm not interested in girls or humans, my only curiosity is whether Osama's porn collection was in keeping with Sharia law from the neck up.

So Mr. Bin Laden was hypocrisy flotsam like so many other leaders. Or was he? Isn't there some clause or loophole for the societal greats? For the hand of higher authority? A man under that much pressure, with so much power, and who accomplishes so much cannot be contained in the same bounds as mortals. Just ask his kidneys. They couldn't contain all he – um – accomplished. I suspect he had so pleased the powers that be his eternal reward was given partially an advance. Of course he deserved it. Look how much pain and suffering he inflicted on the US and UK in the last nine years. All those shoeless airport travelers. The wasted resources of hygiene products separated into 3.4-ounce containers. That alone is grounds for seventy-two virgins in the hereafter. Add to that the enthusiasm of his underlings and unification of the Jihadist world, and there was no choice but to give him the virgins in the herenow.

Problem was, well, let's ask his kidneys again. What's that? Der soldier can't seig heil? Flying at half-mast? Excessive glycosylation along the tunica intima of capillary beds in the corpus cavernosum? Ah. I see. Seventy-two unfulfilled virgins, and poor Al-Qaeda doesn't have a Pfizer drug rep to ask for samples.

Glossy centerfolds it is, then. Well, that's some pretty good problem solving. No sense sending the virgins where they won't be appreciated, especially since Danish political cartoonist Jens Julius suggested they are on backorder anyway. Which reminds me, if I had opposable thumbs, I too would draw a picture of Muhammed, only instead of saying “Stop! Stop! We have run out of virgins!” he'd be handing our man Osama his stack of dirty magazines. “I've got more when you get tired of those, Binny-boy.” Maybe Muhammed dresses like Pennywise the Clown: “Come back anytime! Bring your friends! Kiss me, Fatboy!”

Maybe it's good I can't really ink that out. I'm told such things get Jihadists to undertake great feats of community service. Kind of like inner-city professional sports fans in Detroit and L.A. when their teams win. Or lose.

Seems I have an exception to my hypocrisy floats hypothesis. Sometimes it sinks bullet-blinded to the bottom of the ocean.

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