Where was I? Anyhoo, sorry to be such a buzzkill, but what exactly did I do to deserve all this shit? I mean, Zarkman does his five-a-day. Zarkman volunteers at the madrassa. Whenever there's a village homo who needs stoning, Zarkman brings his A-game high heat. And what thanks does Zarkman get? A goddamned infidel peanut gallery of hashpipe trustafarians and skanky Code Pink insugent groupies too unsightly for Sig Eps Pig Night, that's what. That, plus a smoldering "safehouse" full of Syrian martyr-tards whose families all expect one of my famous personalized thank-you notes:
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. _AL-DURRA____:
Please find enclosed a Ziploc containing the remains of your martyr _TARIQ____. Though he is now frollicking in Paradise, his comrades and I will always remember him for his ___POKEMON COLLECTION____. Thanks to his holy sacrifice, we are one step closer to __EXTERMINATING THE JEWS___.
Yours in Sharia,
Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
You will snarf your beer, friend