Nothing fills my heart full of joy as quickly as the thought of Osama Bin Laden being dead:
Not everyone shares my enthusiasm and cheer at the loss of human life. I won't pretend to understand it,
because frankly I can't relate with people who don't appreciate simple joys like the world's #1 terrorist getting his face blown apart. There was a famous quote that went viral on social networks around the time
he was killed:
“I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy.”
Why not? Why are people so glum and joyless about death? Why is loss taboo to celebrate? Mexicans celebrate Day of the Dead (Dia de Muertos), where friends and family celebrate the lives of deceased loved ones
with tamales and slutty costumes. Why don't people celebrate the passing of hated ones as well? Wouldn't that make more sense? If dictators or corrupt idealogues spent their lives making the world a shittier place, shouldn't we
get our rocks off when they pass to reap some joy from their shitty existence? Not only should we, I'd argue that we're obligated to. If you don't find joy in the occasional passing of others, I think
there's a good chance that you're a dictator, or at least a dick. Check your heart beat because you're dead to me, and I'm going to have a burger to celebrate your death.
Osama's passing made me happy and I'm not going to let a bunch of crybabies rain on my parade. I even wrote a haiku to commemorate the day he had a new hole installed in his face:
Osama is dead.
It fills my spirit with cheer.
I think it just moved.
The way we should be remembering the passing of dictators, hated world figures and casual enemies is by making sugar cookies, oatmeal, BBQ (American or Korean), and giving each other high fives and gifts of weapons and video games.
Nobody bought me shit when Osama died, except me. I went out and treated myself to some baby back ribs and Mortal Kombat. This needs to change. We need to start celebrating his passing as "Osama Bin Laden Death Day:"
Every May 2nd, Celebrate Osama Death Day with a festive assortment of cookies!
Families can celebrate by taking their kids out to the middle of a lake and dumping a body bag filled with shit
deep into the water. Kids can help make skull and crossbone cookies, red fudge and stealth helicopter snickerdoodles. Beers should be imbibed liberally while songs of heroism, valor and virility are sung.
I remember where I was the moment I learned when the planes hit the World Trade Center. I was sleeping on my couch in my totally empty apartment because I didn't own a bed, any chairs or a desk (still don't own a desk, never have, never
will because desks are for idiots). I
also remember where I was the moment Osama was killed, which is different from the moment I learned he got killed because the instant he died, my heart grew three sizes bigger:
His heart burst. My heart burst with joy.
He made the world incalculably shittier for literally everyone. Think about it: there is not a single person who wasn't affected by him; just by being born after his existence, your life will be impacted by something
he did. This isn't some butterfly effect shit, unless the butterfly flapping its wings in the wind is a jet liner crashing into a building, in which case it is. Time Magazine was wrong to not
make him person of the year. The immediate effect on America was
obvious, but the economic impact sent ripples throughout the world, causing hundreds of billions of dollars in lost equity. And that's not counting the billions of hours of productivity lost as moms in the midwest stand in line to
have their sneakers x-rayed at airports.
But what's most damning about his legacy is that he made the Arab world worse. The plight of Arabs after 9/11
has been more tumultuous and rife with hardship, not less. Despite the West's culpability in creating him, and causing some of that hardship, Bin Laden is the one who ultimately pulled the trigger.
He was ideologically opposed to pan-Arabism, and ironically it brought some factions in the Arab world together, which shows his breathtaking lack of foresight and how reckless and myopic his strategy was. This isn't a surgeon
attacking a tumor with a scalpel, this
was a person popping a stye with a jackhammer. In the dark. Wearing oven mitts. Being controlled by an avatar on Pandora.
Al Qaeda's bullshit argument for why they were justified in killing innocent people was that "any innocent bystander will find
a proper reward in death, if they were good Muslims and to hell if they were bad or non-believers." These dipshits didn't survey the people they were attacking. They weren't interested in the beliefs or piety of their victims. And
even if they were, you could justify mass collateral damage in any attack against Muslims if you truly believed this line of horse-shit reasoning. Think about it: you could attack a single "infidel" hiding in a madrasa,
kill an entire classroom with a grenade and shrug your shoulders and say "well at least they're going to heaven now where they'll get rewarded." Great.
As for the "non-believers" qualifier, there are three types of people in this world: people who have embraced Islam, people who have rejected it, and people who have yet to make the choice (either because they haven't been
exposed to it yet, or because they haven't had time to flip through the pamphlets & mailers included in their city weekly). Or maybe they're in transition. Al Qaeda's shitty justification ignores the possibility that the "non-believers" simply
haven't had a chance yet. Nice inconsistent internal rules, dipshits.
I've had countless fantasies about killing Osama Bin Laden myself. Everything from rappelling into his cave with piano wire and choking him out while eating a sandwich, to a naked fist fight in a cave where I rapid-jab him like the
Hundred Crack Fist of the North Star:
Exactly how I'd kill Osama, up to and including "AH TATATATATATA" sound effects.
I've imagined finding him laying low in my local grocery store, where I covertly followed him around for a while, pretending to shop for salami, summer sausage, plungers etc. I'd wait until he was in the
cleaning supplies aisle, then drop-kick him through his lower back. He'd look down, see my foot through his stomach, blink twice and then scream, softer at first but growing louder by the second. Security would show up with their
guns drawn (this is a high crime area) and be confused because all they see is some dude with a foot where his gut used to be. Then suddenly I'd kick my foot straight up, slicing him in half. I'd be standing behind him holding an
open container of bleach. Osama looks up at me with his two eyes on the floor like a stupid flounder. He mouths something to me that I can't understand because I don't speak Arabic, so he says it again in broken English, "please spare me."
Yeah right. The security guards yell "drop your weapon!" Then I smirk like a pirate who just found a treasure chest full of treasure chests and drop the bleach which spills all over Bin Laden who sizzles, pops and burns to death. The
security guards run over, realize I just killed the #1 terrorist in the world and apologize profusely by spending the next 24 hours buffing my pee hole with their mouths because they are super hot cheerleaders for the Dallas Stars hockey team who were just trying to earn a little
extra money for college.
I'm so happy that Osama Bin Laden is dead. It's time you were too.