Longtime readers of my blog may remember my discovery and disclosure of the diary of Iseema bin Laden, Osama’s half-brother. They have the same father, different mothers, but are nearly identical in appearance. They also spent their youths in a similar fashion, although Osama is older by ten years. Shortly after 9/11, Iseema was kidnapped by his brother’s henchmen and has been forced to travel with Osama ever since. I’ve had the occasional letter, but had heard nothing in the last three years. But now, Iseema has broken the silence.
Iseema’s latest message reveals the secrets behind his brother’s strange freeze-frame speech. Here now, the letter:
My dear friend,
My deepest apologies for not writing to you. I know it has been a very long time. Between constantly moving and constant suspicion by the mouth-breathers who guard my brother, may his life grow ever shorter, I have had few chances to correspond. Osama’s men have gotten very good at finding the papers I secrete in various places. If they were physicians, I wouldn’t need another proctology exam for the next ten years. Not that I hide my papers there. No, that’s the first place they look. Really. They need wives. And I mean, REALLY. In any case, I found the perfect courier. Let’s just say that Adam Gadahn can’t hold his liquor to save his life. Two drinks and he’s a sloppy drunk, whining about how much he misses California and all the babes he was stringing along there.
As if. I’ve seen his wives without their burqas. Let’s just say that they’re the perfect wives for the self-described “revolting geek of mass proportion.”
Anyway, I just wait for Adam—excuse me, Azzam the American—to pass out from his usual two shots, and then I give him a present. He’s never quite figured out exactly why young Ahmed hugs him so tightly every time they meet. That reminds me, I owe the boy ten riyals. I don’t suppose you could send me pictures of Sanjaya? You have no idea how angry they make Azzam, and, well, one has to find one’s amusement where one can, when one is stuck in the mountains of NowhereIstan with a group of the most joyless men on the planet.
One thing I do get from time to time is the news. We’ve been reading about your puzzlement over why my benighted half-brother dyed his beard. And I understand your analysts are debating the way Osama’s image stopped and then stayed at freeze-frame for most of the video. I’ll tell you why. It’s because that isn’t Osama in the video. Those sons of harlots made ME sit there and read the speech. Really. Osama’s sick as a dog. He can’t read a speech that long. He’s lucky if he manages to get through one entire reading of “My Brother the Goat.†But his people can’t afford to let the world know how weak Osama is. So they made me the puppet and him the voice.
It was horrible. They beat me when I didn’t get the lip-synching right. But they weren’t too smart about it. Did you see my droopy eye? That’s Omar the Idiot’s fault. He hit me in the face. Brilliant move, moron, put a bruise on the face you want seen around the world. My face bruised so badly they decided to use just the beginning and end of the earlier takes and freeze-frame the middle.
That’s the explanation. Stupid, but true. And here’s one more piece of information for you: I helped write it. All those parts about the Democrats and global warming? My ideas. Blaming the corporations? That was me egging on Gadahn the Moron one night while he was in that shot-and-a-half drunken stupor. He still thinks he thought them up himself. Mentioning Noam Chomsky, I think, was genius, though I say it myself.
As I said, one must find one’s amusement where one can, when one is stuck with the most boring, stupid, brutish men on the planet. Once again, I find myself longing for Kandahar, even if the bombs were dropping all around me.
I hope this letter finds you well, and in the immortal words of Bugs Bunny from the moon:
Editor’s Note: This is the script for my contribution to this week’s Shire Network News. See what you’ve been missing?
I’m glad to hear that Iseema is still alive and keeping his spirits up. We had gone so long without hearing from him that I was afraid somebody had tried to get that reward by shooting him and sending his head to Kabul. Come to think of it, if Al Qaeda runs short of funds for the Jihad Zawahiri might think of doing just that. Too bad you can’t slip him a GPS signaler in the mail.
So you’re good friends with Arab playboys, eh? Obviously you must be a woman with an exotic past.
Michael, you seem to forget that I am also good friends with the Hulk.
Yep. I have an interesting past, all right.