February 10, 2006
Islamabad, Pakistan
With the understandable outrage over the blasphemous cartoons tearing apart the Middle East, I felt I had to lend my support to my Islamic brothers and sisters. I chose my friend Scooter to accompany me on a trip to Islamabad, Pakistan, where we were to join the locals in protesting western infidels who make a mockery of the religion of peace. Since Scooter has an art degree, I put him in charge of creating our signs while I contacted a friend with connections to the protest leaders. I also tried to get hold of Peace Mother Sheehan, but was told she was at the Cancun Club Med with Hugo Chavez - too bad, she loves this kind of thing. The next morning, we were on our way.
After arriving at Islamabad Airport, we were greeted by Mullah Abdul Haree Azcrak, one of the leading local religious leaders. I was shocked to see Scooter wearing a turban and what must be the fakiest beard ever. I can only assume Scooter was just trying to fit in, but he looked absolutely ridiculous. Anyway, Mullah Azcrak didn't seem to notice, and warmly thanked us for coming to show solidarity with them against the decadent Europeans. Up close, the old guy smelled like a sweat-soaked wheel of brie, aged in a porta-potty. After telling us where to meet them the next morning, he had a car take us to our hotel where we rested up for the big day.
We arrived in front of the Danish embassy early. I was wearing a burqa and Scooter had on one of those native nightshirt-type things called a salwar kameez, his turban, and that stupid beard. I had him assemble our signs while I went to pick up some of the assorted European flags they were handing out to burn. Scooter had also brought a U.S. flag from home, knowing it would be a real crowd favorite, once aflame.
Finally Al-Jazeera News showed up, and with cameras in place, the mullah started inciting the crowd using a bullhorn. I didn't know what he was saying, but it really got the locals worked up, as the whole crowd started jumping up and down while screaming and shooting guns into the air. Why can't our people learn to protest like this?
Scooter handed me my sign and it looked like something a two-year-old would make. It said "We (heart) Muhamed!" Not only did he misspell "Muhammad," the moron couldn't even make the heart right, it looked like a red trapezoid or something. I disposed if it and joined the noisy, sweaty mob. Taking my cue from others, I torched a Danish flag, then whacked it into little flaming bits with one of my sandals while yelling at the top of my lungs - it was great fun!
Everything was going well until my attention was drawn to an even greater disturbance beside me, and what sounded like my partner squealing like a pig getting a prostate exam! I looked around and saw Scooter, beard hanging from one ear, trying to shield himself from a flurry of sandals and fists with his sign, the obvious source of his problem. Unbelievably, it featured a picture of Jesus wearing a crudely pasted-on turban! Oh good God! The "Your #1" slogan under the picture apparently did little to placate the lunging jihadists as they attempted to tenderize Scooter with about a million smelly sandals. Also, the fact he was waving an American flag and a book of matches in the other hand probably didn't help much, either. The last I saw of him, they had wrapped him in the flag, set him on fire, and were using him as a battering ram on the embassy door.
Fortunately, the army arrived and saved Scooter, although he did come away with some nasty burns on his legs and a concussion. In my opinion, he deserved to die for being stupid enough to think he could pass off Jesus in a turban as the exalted prophet. I was this close to killing him myself.
The good news is the embassy was wrecked, about 100 little flags were burned, and Muhammad's honor restored. We're outa here.
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