Galloping bin Laden

I am shocked. Shocked and saddened. Could I have been so caught up in my life the past couple of weeks that I failed to bring you news of the best thing that’s come out of the Middle East lately?

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Omar bin Laden, son of Osama bin Laden, Esq. Omar’s a lover, not a hater. When he sees a rock, he’s likely to use it in one of his building projects rather than make his home in it. When he sees an English granny, he’d rather marry her than murder her. When given an option, he’d rather live in Cairo or London than Kabul. When he rides a horse, he does it for peace not because it’s the best way to lose the pursuing army in treacherous mountain passes. And unlike his sixteen year old brother Hamza, whom slain Benazir Bhutto accused of plotting her murder, the only thing Omar is likely to be accused of is crimes against fashion.

He is, however, full of interesting tidbits about growing up in the thick of an international terror network. We learn, for instance, that Daddy was a workaholic and not very emotionally present (well, mass murderers are like that), that his opportunities to make friends are few (Omar: “Hello, my name is Omar bin Laden and I am from Saudi Arabia.” Potential Friend: “EEAAAAGGGHHHH!!!”), that he wouldn’t have flown planes into those buildings on 9/11 (it wasn’t a nice thing to do)… and oh, yeah, Daddy really doesn’t give a hoot what his opinion is and wouldn’t be able to reverse the “movement” he’s set in motion even if he did.

Um.

So, basically, my opinion carries about as much weight as Omar’s? And I didn’t even have to suffer through training camps in the Sudan and Afghanistan for it to get ignored? Awesome.

Dear Omar - Thank you for the entertainment and the pleasant thought. But don’t feel like you have to hurt the pretty horsies on our account. Kthxbai.