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The Secret Sex Life of Osama bin Laden (Analysis)

As it seems most discerning inquisitive inquirers instantaneously infer that an individual who likes to plant bombs and murder innocent people completely at random will probably and predominantly prefer to keep their more private personal poignant needs and sorely intimate desires well within a dark and very deep closet… Perhaps a cave, or at least a very large hole in the ground… For if covert in committing wanton widespread wholesale murder, how much more so must be their secretive sexual consummations and most urgently carnivorous carnal lusts. This is perhaps not coincidence, one thing leading to another, for let it be known that some people — and I won’t as yet name names — are said to experience such burning blazing billowing conflagrating fiery-hot flames of pulsating passion in the bottom of their spontaneously buttering loins whenever a living creature bends over to use the bathroom, that they are instantly reduced to quivering smoldering trembling heaps of red-hot ash at sight thereof. Happens every day, any creature at all mind you.

Now, let’s NOT play games with words here. It’s well known that after a long hard day of digging holes in the ground and building bombs, Osama bin Laden likes to spend a few private moments alone with his favorite camel, “Raa-shaa-shaaka-yessa,” said moments transpiring well within a very dark and deep closet, of course, inside a cave, all within a very large hole dug into the side of a mountain. Well out of harm’s way, praise Allah.

It need also be stated here and now for the record, and in no uncertain terms, insomuch as this narrative is strictly non-fictional by nature, that the facts and events portrayed herein honest detail and chronologic order convey information held to be strictly, inviolably, mortally SECRET, mum’s the word with this shit to be sure. To speak of it at all completely transcends depraved diabolic dementia and will most certainly concurrently culminate in the sudden rapid death and instantaneous dispatch of any and all Infidel scum careless enough to scan, decipher, peruse, glimpse, glance, or merely even blink at these blasphemous unholy heathen capitalist lies. Readers should know that they have now, unwittingly or no, brought all heaven- holy bloody- red JIHAD down upon themselves and that their blood, along with the blood of their yet un-conceived unwed unborn unwanted children will soon flow in the streets, Allah be praised, along with the blood of any and all heathen heretic scum and ritually non-clean nonbelievers, as red-hot coals are piled unceasingly upon their heads, et cetera.

But back to Osama bin Laden, the world’s pre-eminent terrorist target, as inquiring minds want to know…

Numerous nomadic Mongolian shepherds and several shy sheep-herding Berbers claim to have delivered as many as three and four hundred HEAD of camel to Osama bin Laden himself on more than one occasion, and the sight of their entire herd disappearing into a huge gaping crack in the ground which then suddenly snapped shut, “like a woman’s legs closing,” according to one Berber, was said to be utterly shocking, deeply disquieting, and downright terrifying.

These camels were never seen or heard from ever again, and the small sum of money in the shepherd’s hands always left them feeling a little violated and empty inside.

It should also be noted here and now for the record that no woman, nor female of any species, has ever set a foot in the CAVE of Osama bin Laden.

“I’ll kill any bitch that tries,” Osama himself has avowedly avowed on numerous numerically occurring occasions.

Osama bin Laden is said to spend countless hours alone in the closet with his beloved “Raa-shaa-shaaka-yessa.” He even set up a little television with satellite link, and has apparently become quite a fanatical sports fan, amongst his other pursuits of murder, mayhem, and lasting world genocide. Osama’s favorite teams are the New Jersey Devils, the Tampa Bay Devilrays, the Calgary Flames, and the San Francisco Giants — but only because when the Giants played the Angels in the ’04 World Series some of the Giants home fans dressed up in devil costumes and it really turned him on, got him all hot and bothered.

“Yes yes yes!” Osama would shout, dancing around the cave in glee, “Go devils go! Go devils go!”

“Yes yes yes,” his followers would chant, “Go devils go…”

When the Angels came back from two runs down in the seventh game to win the series Osama flew into a near-berserk rage, and it wasn’t until he descended furiously into a local village, lined up a bunch of people, and mowed them down with a machine gun that he felt quite himself again. Yet there are human sides to this man. Oddly enough, when Osama bin Laden finishes killing a whole bunch of innocent people there’s nothing he likes better than an ice-cold Coca-Cola, but only when mixed with pure milk of camel, and then only when internally ingested within the close confines of his very own closet, in cave, in very large hole, et cetera. Nor are Osama’s carnal preferences and sordid sensual appetites considered particularly unusual fare in certain male-dominated Mid-East societies. Rumors of his rigid virility and conspicuous lack of inhibition abound, forming the stuff of legends, bringing eerily omniscient and consequently horror-struck looks from every cud-chewing ruminant within a thousand mile radius. Any camel too spirited, stubborn, conceited or prude to tolerate repeated redundant repetitive mountings is instantly beheaded and quickly diced up into shishkebab, and the camels damn well know it Many Afghan villages and rural districts have come to place more value upon their camels than upon their women, all due to the presence and personal demands of Osama bin Laden. To ignore his constant continual behests and behoovals would surely and swiftly invite all unholy bloody-red jihad, bringing sudden rapid death and instantaneous dispatch by indiscriminate decimating decapitation, that their blood and the blood of their yet unborn grandchildren’s children may flow freely in the streets, as red hot coals are piled upon their heads.

Et cetera.

Yet a friendly and willing camel in this part of the world often makes the difference not merely between life and death but between the pleasures of heavenly bliss and hell-fire eternal damnation to all Infidel scum, Allah be praised. Now, some camels have only one hump in them, others two, a few even have three humps, but let it be known that the more humps a camel has sustained the more popular that camel has been. “Raa-shaa-shaaka-yessa” has sustained so many humps that they cannot be counted, we can only be certain that, once again, when Osama bin Laden puts away his shovels and detonators, another foul festering hump shall be added to the tremendous tottering tally.

Alas, Osama bin Laden is no amorous amateur, and if we look back at the love life of his first camel, the camel he grew up with as a boy and loved so very, very dearly, we may be able to shine some light into the various closets, caves, and holes of the world. Osama’s first camel was called “Abdulla-la-la,” a gorgeous long-legged beauty with breasts just right, not quite touching the floor, big beautiful brown eyes, not too much hair on her chest, and the most sweet and gentle disposition dispensable a dromedary. To speak of “Abdulla-la-la” brings tears to Taliban eyes, for poor “Abdulla-la-la” was blown to bits by an American infrared rocket when the heat signature coming out of her ass over-rode the heat signature of the targeted Mig-17. The rocket apparently flew up her back pipe and blew her into so many tiny pieces of shishkebab that they could not be counted. Osama, who understood nothing of infrared lasers and heat signatures, covered in the blood and guts of his beloved camel, avowed dire deadly dreadful revenge, and from that day forward swore to never again love any woman with a camel toe, nor any other female camel. That was the day Osama bin Laden came out of the closet.

For a second or two…

It seems pretty clear that crashing a plane into every trade center, business center, and world center in the world is not going to bring “Abdulla-la-la” back, and it’s common knowledge these days that a good many people wish to locate the exact whereabouts of Osama bin Laden’s cave and expedite his many excavations, as it were, by way of several multi-ton bunker-busters unleashed from any number of high-flying supersonic aircraft in continual orbit around the Afghani environs. Any number of closely cropped jarheads can in fact be found wandering about the Himalayas with this very purpose in mind. By rights, I wish to offer these discerning inquisitive warriors and high-flying crusaders the single following morsel of sage and salient advice.

“Follow the camels!” I might say, “particularly the camels with wild flashing eyes and nervously twitching tails.”

No herd is too small, no single camel too big, they must all be identified, monitored, reconnoitered, and tracked via satellite twenty-four seven three sixty-five. Follow the camels, I implore, and while you’re at it stop shaving, stop showering, stop using toilet paper when you go to the bathroom, better yet, take a big handful of dirt and rub it into your clothes. That’s REAL Afghani camouflage. No more Humvees, no more planes, missiles, helicopters, and laser beams. The entire United States military should be riding camels, living with camels, feeding them, taking care of them, digging in, getting to really KNOW the beasts. It’s important for the American generals to be seen in town riding their camels, running errands, taking care of business, for rest assured that if it takes a thief to catch a thief it will most certainly take a camel to catch Osama bin Laden.
That’s the story, and I’m stickin’ to it.

Author’s Note: Although I was pleasantly surprised by the vociferous controversy this story initially spawned online, what began as a quick comedy skit (albeit an admittedly bad comedy skit) has since taken on far more importance, at least in my eyes. A lot of people these days seem to think Osama bin Laden is some kind of hero or something, that’s part of the feedback I’ve been getting, people sticking up for him, and it bothers me a little. Make no mistake, this is an evil man. When I see people wearing Osama bin Laden T-shirts in crowds throughout the world, waving his picture everywhere, and even as more and more newborn babies around the world are christened “Osama,” it bothers me. One cannot commit mass murder and avoid the stain of evil any more than one can walk through mud and not leave footprints, and we would do well to keep this in mind
And I would like to make it clear that this isn’t about Islam, any more than taken in context of plot and setting; if Osama bin Laden was African or, better yet, Indian or Hindu, for instance, I’d flesh out (so to speak) some of the various cows and monkeys they call “gods” and have plenty of more color to paint with. In this case I find this quarry in far more rugged, remote terrain, and must make do with what comes to hand.
Moreover, anyone familiar with the comedy or entertainment industries has seen the likes of Cheech & Chong, John Belushi, and most recently Sasha Cohen, make similar light in regard to plot and setting. Yet this seems more important to me, since this decidedly evil man is making the world a dangerous place. Americans (and Brittish) are becoming targets internationally and, personally, I find the role distasteful. In all honesty, I think that if anyone in my immediate family had been killed September 11th, I’d be over there right now looking to chew Osama's ass up with a machine gun instead of a pen and paper. And if this material be construed as offensive, far more so is this man offensive to me, so let the shoe fit the foot.

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