Under the Black Flag

Breakfast With Bin Laden

I sat down to write this column in the Big Bagel, as I call New York City, and it was to be about the latest hagiography of Winston Churchill, a man I not only dislike but consider to be a war criminal par excellence.  Then I heard the sirens outside my house and was deafened by the helicopters hovering up above.  It was terrorist time, except that all the cops were out in force protecting the bad guys and escorting them to various grand hotels and diplomatic missions scattered around this great city.

Yes, you guessed it, dear readers, it was the opening session of Crooks & Murderers, Inc., a.k.a. the United Nations.  Never have so many tin-pot dictators, major chiselers, lunch-bucket pilferers, and out-and-out killers arrived en masse as they did this year, and it was my bad luck to find myself in close proximity to the rabble.  Central Park was closed to joggers as the French head hobbit, one Sarkozy, decided to take some exercise.  Ditto for certain parts of Park Avenue, as African child molesters needed to go shopping to spend some of their blood money.  Every single cop was out in force trying to make life miserable for us taxpayers and comfortable for the onanists from the Dark Continent.  That’s when I lost all desire to abuse the Churchill man and decided to tell you about the world’s most wanted man—the only one, in fact, who’s missing from the vermin who have overrun...

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