Bin Laden's Diary Part 4

December 11, 2006

Dear Diary,

I had quite the surprise visit today.  Keith Olbermann stopped by.   We had some falafel and a little tea.  Then he hooked us up with some illegal cable from the feed to the military compound across the street, so we can watch him on MSNBC.  He threw in CNN too.  He really thought this would be good for morale, seeing how much the real Americans supported us.  He told us to be sure and tune in for the protests at the White House tomorrow.

December 12, 2006

Dear Diary,

Decided to give everyone a break today.  Whipped up a nice, fresh batch of Jiffy Pop and had everyone huddle around the set to watch our new cable.  Wasn’t as relaxing and morale-boosting as planned. 

The announcer said that after the break they were going to show footage of the infidels marching on Washington, and at first everyone was all ululating and blasting off their AKs at the prospect of watching this great insurgent offensive within the very bowels of the Great Satan, but then the footage started. 

Mohammed H. Prophet!  The room became more and more subdued with every shot of another placard-waving hairy, hippy chick and drum circle reject.  Everyone was like, dude, where are their weapons?  They are going to be crushed.  Have they even been trained in street fighting?  I don’t see any bombs. 

All the aged NPR grannies just stood around waving signs.  Then the Saudis in the peanut gallery started speaking up.

Is that what women look like without burkas?

If so, just take me out back and stone me now.  I think I might be gay.

Is that what the virgins are going to look like in Paradise?  I don’t want even one of those, let alone 72. 

I couldn’t think of anything to say.  Made me think.  What kind of woman is still a virgin when they come to Paradise? 

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look of pure horror that crept across the face of that poor Afghan kid when the camera panned across the fugly forest of hairy vegans and uberbutch heathers.  Can you blame the poor, trembling kid?

When I go to Paradise, can I get 72 sluts instead?  Say yes, or the martyrdom is off.

I shut off the the saggy boob tube, and it took me nearly 30 minutes to calm the boys down and assure them that Paradise was not going to be a ménage-a-72 with a bunch of hirsute Code Pink groupies. 

Thanks a lot, Keith.   I nominate you for Worst Person of the Day.  Next time you stop by, do me a favor and set us up with HBO/Cinemax instead.  Give my boys something to die for.