Obama Gets Osama

Pull the banner out of storage and string it back across the aircraft carrier. Because this time, Mission Really Accomplished. Barack bested bin Laden. Obama got Osama. Or as the right-wing talk shows probably reported it, “Alien President Murders Muslim Brother.” Though not a big fan of the whole killing thing, it would take a stupendously bloodless American to decline the pleasure of hammering a couple of nails into this particular coffin.

The most-wanted man on the planet. Found. And you had to admire the way it was done; members of Navy SEAL Team Six firing two warning shots into the head. One for each tower. The target was totally unarmed and never had a chance. That’s known as synchronicity. Live by the sneak attack, die by the sneak attack.

President George W. Bush famously said: “He can run, but he can’t hide,” and finally was proved right. Although you got to admit, bin Laden gave it a good run: nine years, 230 days. Think he might have earned Hide-and-Seek Grand Master Championship status. An award that alas, must be presented posthumously.

Buried at sea, but that’s just a polite way of saying the carcass was kicked overboard. An extreme act of pollution, upon which the Arabian Sea EPA surely frowned. Hopefully, the architect of Ground Zero won’t float across to the Sea of Japan into all that radiation — could spawn a training school of three-eyed mutant terrorists.

In a way, it’s too bad we ditched him so soon. Mucho bucks could have been raised by touring the country giving ordinary folks a chance to pose with the corpse like they used to do in the Old West. “Get your picture taken with the Butcher of 9/11. 10 bucks.” Could have carted the remains around in a refrigerated casket shoved onto the bed of a Ford F- 250 traveling to County Fairs and Tractor Pulls. Like what happened with the World Series trophy only with more punching. Eventually the cadaver would end up in Vegas with its own Cirque du Soleil show, or as one of the stiffer stiffs on “Dancing With the Stars.”

The Pakistanis aren’t happy. First they claimed to be an integral partner in the operation. Unh-hunh. “Here’s a broom. Thanks for your assistance. Got to go.” Now they’re whining it made them look bad. You know, our role in making you look bad is superfluous. Head Honcho al-Qaida himself living for five years behind your version of West Point and nobody notices? Right. Like Lady Gaga hiding out at the Vatican. Either you’re complicit, stupid, incompetent, or both.

The safe house was not equipped with Internet or phone connection and they burned their trash inside the compound. So, if you think of it, he pretty much was living in hell. All we did was change the location.

We also managed to retrieve a sizable cache of computer disks, which hopefully will reveal a vast network of terrorist contacts and sleeper-cell structures, but we all know what’s really on them. Porn. Hot stuff. Muslim women wearing see-through burqas. Beard-on-veil action.

But now, thank god, this whole thing is over and our troops can come home and we won’t have to take off our shoes at the airport anymore and can turn our attention to hunting down the next-biggest threat to democracy: Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia.

Will Durst
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