Bin Laden's Diary, the Last (And there was much rejoicing)

May 1, 2011

Dear Diary,

My life sucks.  I haven’t been able to leave my compound for years now, and I’m sick of all my videos.   The Arabic satellite network so isn’t da bomb.  They refuse to show any Friends re-runs without digitally rendered burkas on all the chicas, but I’ve got all the episodes of Omar and his Magic Jew-Butting Goat I can stand.  The Pakistani ISP even started blocking Netflix and Hulu, so now I’ll never catch up on Glee.  Will that Puckerman and Rachel ever get brutally murdered?  Will Kurt ever be hanged?  Will Sue finally become a martyr for her cause?  I may never know. 

And the fight isn’t going so well either.  We ran out of ammonium nitrate months ago…and illegal fireworks.  We’ve had to resort to bombs made with Coke and Mentos.  Two of my European recruits were fatally wounded during bomb preparation, but the worst any infidels got was some stained clothing and mild bruising.  Allah u akbar?  Is it even worth it?

Hey, someone’s at the door.  Maybe my Samoas have arrived. No wait, despite the militant uniforms, those don't appear to be Girl Scouts.  It was about that time that I realized that they weren't Girl Scouts at all but a highly trained team of buff Navy SEALs with nightvision goggles. 

Bin Laden's Diary Part 11

February 28, 2006

Dear Diary,

Assad’s really turning into a wimp lately.  He’s getting a little too soft regarding our new, younger martyrs.  He’s insisting that I start a ‘Make a Wish’ type program for them or he won’t send me any more Syrian youngsters.  Apparently, the call of the virgins isn’t enough for the prepubescents.  They all want to go to Disneyworld or build a snowman in the desert or be an extra on Glee (whatever that is), or meet Shaq (whoever that is).  The name sounds muslim enough, so I guess that would be alright, if it weren’t so ruddy expensive.  C.A.R.E. hasn’t exactly been coming through with gobs of dough lately.  I mean, to save money I’ve had to start refilling my inkjet cartridges myself with purple ink we stole from the Iraqi voting stations.  It turns out lavender against my standard white printer paper.  That’s right, because I can’t afford ink, all those “I’m proud of your little martry” letters now go out in fear-inducing lavender.  Might as well print them on pink paper, draw little hearts over all of the i’s and put a little checkbox at the bottom: Do you like me, yes or no? 

And Assad wants me to devote funds to fulfilling the dying wishes of his little martyrs-to-be.  Isn’t eternal bliss in paradise reward enough?  I mean, Mohammed H. Prophet, ammonium nitrate doesn’t grow on trees.  Maybe he’ll settle for something on a little less grand scale.  Instead of ‘Make a Wish,’ how about ‘What’s Something You Wouldn’t Mind Doing So Much?’  Like maybe a camel ride or some nice falafel? 

March 1, 2006

Dear Diary,

Assad’s such a buffoon.  Once again, my problems are solved with Photoshop.  Oh yes, Assad.  All of your little martyrs got their wishes.  Digital photos never lie.  I can’t believe they let that pencil-neck run a country.

Bin Laden's Diary Part 10

June 14, 2007

Dear Diary,

I really need to set up a system that ensures that the European recruits are martyred first.  EIEO (Eurpeans In, Europeans, Out).  They’re absolutely retardtastic.  European indoctrination has ruined them, and it’s driving me crazy.  I swear they’re all like exploded, inside-out, martyred watermelons.  Blood-red on the outside and green in the middle.  Francois Mohammed has been trying to get a meeting with me for weeks, but I’ve been blowing the retard off.  So he slips an envelope under my door.  He titled it his Green Jihad Manifesto: Establishing the Environmentally Conscious Caliphate. 

Oh, Allah give me strength!  Droned on and on about how important it was to save and recycle all of our shell casings.  And we need to stop using toxic lead bullets and switch to environmentally friendly aluminum or natural rubber slugs.  Apparently there is a wide assortment of completely organic explosives and poisons and chemical weapons that are ‘safe’ and ‘natural’ and made entirely from wholesome, organic materials.  Apparently it is also imperative that we ensure we don’t use any biological weapons that contain any animal by-products or that were tested on animals.  No animals should be harmed during the making of this jihad. 

His conclusion: “We can ensure the domination of Dar Al Islam and restore the Caliphate without damaging the environment.  Would Allah really want us to dominate a world when we seem intent on destroying that very world through our selfish, day-to-day decisions?”

Mohammed H. Prophet!  Must resist urge to stone!

June 15, 2007

Dear Diary,

Well, I think I finally made Francois happy.  I gave into his hectoring.  He has been thoroughly and completely recycled.  Into pit bull poop.  Completely organic pit bull poop.  Maybe we’ll harvest the nitrates and make him into a nice little organic car bomb just like he dreamed of.  Circle of life.

Bin Laden's Dairy Part 9

December 25, 2005

Dear Diary,

Got a Christmas present in the mail today from George Jr. and Little Dicky.  At first I felt kind of bad because I hadn't sent them anything.  But then I opened the box.  It was a spiral-cut, honey baked ham, a bottle of Scotch, the Gideon Bible with the 'Property of the DC Marriot' sticker still intact and a used copy of The Complete Infidel's Guide to Islam. I hate those two.  And they wonder why I took out their towers.  At least Bill just sent me porn and cigars.

Bin Laden's Diary Part 7

December 15, 2005

Dear Diary,

Was hanging in Iraq today on account of its election day.  Had some plans to mess with Team Satan here and foment some higgledy-piggledy among the masses.  Felt I needed to be here in person to make sure these Iraqi retards I have working for me get the job done.  Should have just stayed in Pakistan.

Since those Team Satan jarheads have been making it way too hard to get car bombs through the checkpoints, Tarooq got himself a trained camel wired up with a little ammonium nitrate election present for the masses.  He and Shahid were going to walk it right down to election central and kablam!  Take out the whole voting district.  The blast would have painted the whole place purple.  If they had made it to their destination.  Stupid Iraqis.

Turns out last night, Shahid and Tarooq went on a little pre-martyrdom sin spree, so, on the way to the potential blast site, when their camel saw some pretty females and got a little frisky, they only felt it was fair to let the camel have its little sin spree too.  How do I know this?  That numbnut Tarooq took pictures with his cellphone of him and Shahid in front of the camel porn making unhallowed hand gestures and laughing and posted it to his FB page via his mobile. 

By itself, no big whoop.  But during his pre-martyrdom fling, Shahid got drunk and stupid and met an alleged girl named Aiesha.  He kissed the girl, and he liked it.  He liked it so much, he gave Aiesha his cellphone number.  The same cellphone that was wired to the trigger on the ammonium nitrate.  The same cellphone Aiesha dialed up right during the middle of camel passion. 

Body count
Camels: 2
Iraqtards: 2
Infidels: 0
Voters: 0
Number of total martyrs in paradise: 2 (My money is on the camels).

Allah, give me strength.   And less stupid recruits.  I'm looking for some just stupid enough to fall for martyrdom.

Bin Laden's Diary Part 5

August 11, 2007

Dear Diary,

Achmedinejad is getting on my nerves even more. He’s insisting that I host him for a few days here in Pakistan. The hidden imam compels me, or some crap like that. He’s still trying to sell me on his 6 step plan for martyrdom or whatever he’s calling that cluster-crap business model he keeps e-mailing me that keeps getting filtered straight to my ‘Dispose of this stupid craptastic Shiite crap immediately’ folder. Thank you, MSN.

Since I never responded to his spam, he sent this scrawny fellow directly to me with a hand-written request that I welcome him to my home for a presentation. Then he tacked on a rider with a list of demands regarding his accommodations and dressing room and Shiite. The guy must think he’s Katie freakin’ Perry or Lady Googoo Achmed or something. I mean, Mohammed H. Prophet. Check out some of the stuff he wants.

• One 24 ounce bottle of Johnson and Johnson’s Baby Oil, 24 white roses and a baby seal
• Unlimited falafel. Must be cooked in lard
• A variety of tin foil hats. Must be made of real tin foil, not the Reynold’s American substitute that was designed by the CIA to allow the transmission of mind control rays.
• Shakira
• One pack of men’s athletic socks
• All items in the room must be covered in clear plastic wrap to be removed only by the artist
• No toy robots are to be allowed on the premises or he will not perform
• One small rhesus monkey skeleton
• Lots of fish ice
• Three jewish princesses
• A scrying device
• No MSG
• The first three seasons of Sesame Street in a betamax format
• Jack Bauer’s head on a platter

Allah forgive me, but I’m hoping some SEALS take him out soon.

August 12, 2007

Dear Diary,

I just returned Achmedinejad’s messenger to him by UPS ground. I really like their ‘If it fits in the box it ships for only $9.99’ policy. We’ll see if Achmedinejad shows up next week or not. He’s a little guy. I bet he’d fit in the $6.99 box.

Darth Bubba: Bin Laden Breaking News

I reckon I got me a pretty big scoop right heres. Billy Jo's been lookin' round on that intertube thingie, and he's found a recordin' of what was goin' on inside the President's situation room during the Obama assault. He's gone and typed it up all nice, and here it is. Remember, you sawed it here first.



Obama: Which of those guys is me? My joystick isn’t working?

Hillary: That’s what she said.

Obama: What…

Biden: Nevermind.

Obama: I think I’ve got a bad connection. My joystick’s not controlling any of those people. Wait a minute, why are all these people here to watch me play Call of Duty?

Biden: They aren’t here to watch you play your games, sir.

Obama: Why not? I’m really good.

Biden: You just think that because you’re still in the tutorial. I’ve explained this to you for months. The real game doesn’t start until you get through the tutorial. And, we aren’t here to watch you play. This is a live feed from Navy SEALS who are going to storm Osama’s compound and kill him.

Obama: No! I’m too young to die!

Biden: Osama, sir. Not Obama. They are going to kill Osama. No one is trying to kill you yet. (Musing quietly: No one but me, anyway. President Biden at your service.)

Obama: Our names are just too similar. And we’re both muslim and hate America. I get us confused all the time.

Biden: We know, sir. Now, why don’t you let the adults talk, and we’ll get to you in a minute.

Obama: Wow, that looks just like a reality TV show. How do they do that?

Biden: They have tiny cameras on their helmets.

Obama: Cool. I want one of those. It would be nice for when Michelle and I are getting busy.

Hillary: So that’s why Bill has one of those! He never wore it around me.

Military Dude: You mean you don’t know.

Obama: I know. I know everything.

Hillary: Know what?

Military Dude: Well, we’d all assumed you’d given Bill consent. Eric Holder assured us, and Bill wasn’t getting many speaking engagements anymore.

Hillary: What are you saying?

Military Dude: Um, I’m not sure how to break this to you, Mrs. Clinton…..

Obama: (giggles)

Military Dude: I guess you should know. Go to www.whitehousehos.cigar.gov. Check the fourth page under the ‘My First Lady’ section. What? Like you all don’t have this in your favorites. It was a great icebreaker with Putin after she messed up that reset button gag.

Hillary: I thought we were to never speak of that again. Now hand me that laptop. (typing)

Obama (still fiddling with his joystick): Are you sure you can't rig it so my joystick controls one of the SEALS? And why is it all dark and stuff? Are you sure this feed is live? It’s the middle of the day now.

Biden: We’ve been through this before. Pakistan is on the other side of the world. It’s nighttime over there. That’s why we don’t let you prank call Musharraf during your lunchbreak anymore. He doesn’t like being woken up in the middle of the night so you can ask him about his refrigerator.

Woman at the back: Do they even have refrigerators in Pakistan?

Biden: Yes, they have refrigerators in Pakistan. They have nuclear weapons in Pakistan.

Obama: What, Pakistan has nuclear weapons? When did this happen?

Hillary: OMG, Bill is so dead! But wait, that can’t be. It is. Chelsea? And with Al? Is that Tipper? Oooo. Let me at him. I’ll warm his globe! (Storms out furiously)

Everyone in the room: (huddling around to watch Hillary’s laptop screen)

Bald Guy 2: Hey, turn up the volume.  This is the best part......Uh, or so I've heard.

Forty-five minutes later, the laptop battery runs out.

Biden: OK, back to Osama. Wait a minute. The screen’s gone black. Was anyone paying attention? Did we get him? Are the SEALS dead? What? I can’t believe this. This was a big effin’ deal.

Obama: Better check with Fox News. They’ll have the story right.