“So you’ll help me find him?” asked Harry.

“If the price is right” said Abu. “What is the name of him for whom you search?”

“Well, he has many names. You may know him as ‘The Sheik’”.

“You mean Rudolf Valentino?”

“No! Osama Bin Laden – this guy here!” said Harry, waving the tattered WANTED poster.

“Oh him! Why didn’t you say so? Everybody knows where he is”.

“Really? Our best agents can’t find him anywhere”.

“You have to be looking for somebody in order to find them, o Harry Reid”.

“Point taken. So, where is he?”

“Standing right behind you”.
***

The rusty shackles bit cruelly into the tender flesh of Harry’s twiglike forearms and the brutal guards taunted him while he writhed in pain and humiliation.

“Harharharharhar” they jeered. “Hardeeharharharhar!”

It’s like junior high all over again, agonized Harry. His slender frame was covered in scrapes and bruises, his breath came in fitful gasps, his glasses were askew and he reeked of goat.

The guards feel silent as a lanky figure entered the cave. “Ow!” cursed the lanky one, striking his head on the low ceiling. “Can’t you get yourself a taller cave, Tariq?”

“A thousand apologies, master” grovelled Tariq.

“No biggy. So, what have we here? He smells bad”.

“My (gasp) name (choke) is Senator Harry Reid (D -NV),,,”

“The question was rhetorical, pallid dog!” snapped Bin Laden. “I well know who you are”.

“You (gasp) do?”

“Of course I does. Harry Mason Reid, known as ‘Pinky’ to his friends. Born 2 December 1939 in Searchlight, Nevada. Alumnus of Utah State University (go Fighting Polygamists!) Lawyer. Married to the former Landra Gould. Five children: Lana, Rory, Leif, Josh and…Key? What by the beard of the Prophet (PBUH) kind of name is that anyway?”

“It’s a long (gasp) story” choked Harry. “You’ve certainly done your research”.

“Thank you” said Artboy, I mean Bin Laden. “I do my best. So, Harry Reid: what does a Latter Day Saint, a former member of the Nevada State Gaming Commission, former Lieutenant Governor, former Representative and current Senate Majority Leader want from little old me, huh? Speak, Mormon pig!”

“Well, Mr Osama…may I call you ‘Osama’?”

“No”.

“Um, well, the President has sent me as Special Envoy to, um, Your Excellency, to state to you his profound desire for a new and harmonious concordance between yourself and us imperialist American jackels, a clean slate, a ‘rapprochement’, if you like. That’s a French word which means…”

“I know what it means! I didn’t go to some cow college madrassah like you – I went to Riyadh State! So, at last the deluded masters of your corrupt and decadent land have grown a little in wisdom; at last you see where your best interests lie”.

“Um, yes…exactly. Wisdom”.

“I mean it’s a nice little country you got there, Harry Reid. Real nice. Be a shame if something was to happen to it, something… nuclear” threatened Bin Laden.

“Hey, hey; take it easy” quavered Harry. “I don’t want any trouble”.

“And you won’t have any, Harry Reid, as long as you meet certain…conditions”.

“Such as?”

“Well, all you infidel pig Americans must accept the One True Faith – without exception!”

“Hey, no problem” said Harry. “The Islamification process is already well advanced – we’re following the European model of graduated transformation”.

“Most wise. And America must withdraw its crusaders from the lands they have occupied and disarm itself entirely”.

“Already in hand, Excellency. We hardly use the arms we’ve got anyway. Hey, this is easier than I thought!”

“And the criminal Bush and his henchmen must answer for their crimes before an Islamic court”.

“That’s in hand too, Excellency. The indictments have been prepared”.

“And you must all say ‘sorry’ and really mean it!”

“Done and done!” agreed Harry. “Can you uncuff me now, please?”

“Certainly! Where are my manners? Loose him, brothers – bring oil to bathe his wounds and sweetmeats to satisfy his hunger. Would you care for some goat, Harry Reid?”

“Um, no thanks. I’ve had enough goat for one day”.
***
And so, little brothers and sisters, that’s how Harry Reid helped the Great Osama turn infidel America into the glorious Islamic Republic it is today. Harry became Grand Vizier and served the Caliph until the end of his days, which were many and long. Of course Harry Reid went home to Allah years before any of you were born but his life story still serves as an example to us all and that’s why his portrait is on the 1000 dinar bill – see?

Thanks Gila and mybro; appreciation is always appreciated…and now back to our story:

“You know, Agent Limbo” yelled Harry over the roar of the engines “You might not believe it but I’m not really an action kind of guy; never have been”.

“Really” said Colt Luger.

“No –it’s true! And I’m not a well man either: asthma, night blindness, halitosis, shingles, ingrown toenails, dandruff, eczema, angst, existential nausea, burning rectal itch – I’ve got ‘em all”.

“That’s interesting”.

“So, under the circumstances” wheedled Harry “I was wondering how you’d feel about doing the jump for me? I can pay you, Colt –I’m a public servant, so I’m rich you know, really rich. Name your price!”

“Red light!” barked Colt. “On your feet, White Weasel – c’mon!”

“Ohgodohgod!” wailed Harry Reid. “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!”

“I didn’t quite catch that” lied Colt. “Green light – go!”

Vital seconds passed and nothing happened.

“Green light – go!” yelled Colt. “Go, White Weasel!”

Nothing.

“Go, dammit!”

Harry Reid felt the sudden impact of Colt’s boot on his ass and then he was out the door and spinning dizzily through the enormity of space. Wonder replaced fear and Harry felt a tremendous exhilaration course through his slender frame.

“This is amazing!” exulted Harry. “I’m soaring! I’m flying! I never felt so alive!”

Harry smashed into the ground at three hundred miles per hour.

Or he would have done had not the roof of the goat shed and even more so, the goats inside it, broken his fall and after a few minutes a shaken Harry emerged from the wreckage, blinking nearsightedly and drenched in goat guts.

Harry spat out some pieces of the coarse haired ruminant and with shaking hands brushed more random chunks from his jumpsuit. Colt Luger’s voice echoed in his mind: “And don’t forget to pull the ripcord…pull the ripcord…pull the ripcord” Colt had warned.

They can’t expect me to think of everything, fumed Harry. Sheesh.

Harry put on his glasses and his blurry eyes slowly refocused…who’s that? Before him stood a wide-eyed little shepherd boy.

“You fell from the sky!” exclaimed the lad. “Are you… a god?”

“Hey, you speak English” said Harry, who noticed everything. “That’s convenient. No, I’m not a god, little fellow. I’m the Senate Majority Leader, which is kinda like being a god but with better perks and privileges. Got any special projects back home you need Federal help funding?”

“Your words are strange to me. And you smell like a goat. What is your name, sky visitor?”

“Hi, I’m Harry Reid” campaigned Harry. “How are you doing? I hope I can count on your vote in November!”

“Your already strange words become stranger still. My name is Abu. I am a humble shepherd boy. You just squashed all my goats, o Harry Reid”.

“Um, yes…well. Sorry about that; don’t tell PETA, okay?”

Harry rummaged in his knapsack. “Here, take these precious items as compensation”. He hauled out some bead necklaces, a dozen hand mirrors and a couple of woollen blankets. “See? Guaranteed smallpox free!” Harry said reassuringly.

“I’m foreign, not retarded” said Abu. “You’ll have to do better than that”.

Harry sighed and dug deeper. From the knapsack’s depths he proffered a warm bottle of Cherry Coke, one of those stupid GameBoy things, a box of melted Milk Duds and last week’s issue of TV Guide.

“Here you go, Abu; treasure from the bazaars of America! We’ll call it even, huh?”

The shepherd boy eyed the objects with undisguised distaste. “I don’t want your pop culture crap!” he snapped. “I have all I need here in my beautiful homeland”.

“You do?” wondered Harry as he looked around at the dusty, barren, treeless, sun blasted wasteland. “Really?”

“No, I’m kidding. Gimme that stuff!”

“Well, I’m glad we could work this out” said Harry as he placed a comforting hand on the little boy’s shoulders.

“Take your paws off me, creep” warned Abu. “You smell funny and you still owe me for all those goats”.

“Hey, I thought we had a deal – oh alright, you’ll get your money” lied Harry. “You can always count on Uncle Sam to stick by a pal”.

“That’s what the Kurds and the South Vietnamese and the Cambodians and the Shah of Iran thought” said Abu. “Me, I want to see the moolah up front”.

“Okay, okay” conceded Harry. “I’ll get you your money – and lots more, if you help me with my mission. I need to find a man, someone special…”

“I said get away from me, you perv!”

“No, no – I’m not like that!”

“Yeah? You sure look like that”.

Harry sighed. “Please; let me explain. You see, the President says that…”

Will Abu join Harry’s Coalition of the Willing? Find out in tomorrow’s thrilling (and penultimate) instalment!

http://article.nationalreview......JkYTRmMzI=

“So is there anybody left for the Democrats to boo and hiss? Yes, there is one figure in Washington whom liberals really do hate and fear, because he could help thwart their policy goals, especially on social issues.

That person is Chief Justice John Roberts.”

Which would explain Reaper Reid’s out-of-the-blue attack.

“Senator Reid? Hello, sir; welcome to Langley. My name is Colt Luger, CIA Master Spy. I’ll be your instructor on this course”.

“Good to meet you, Agent Limbo” smiled Harry. “I have to say I’m, ah, a little anxious about all this – I’m not a, um, a physical kind of person, really”.

“You’ll do fine, sir” Colt assured the nervous Nevadan. “Just fine. I’ve trained many of our finest agents: E. Howard Hunt, Aldrich Ames, Valerie Plame – great Americans all! You’ll do just fine, sir!”

“I hope so” worried Harry; the repeated assertion that ‘you’ll do fine’ was not exactly having its full effect.

“First of all I need to tell you your secret code name…”

“Ooh! Ooh!” exclaimed Harry “Can I be called ‘Napoleon Solo’ or ‘Knight Rider’ (with a ‘K’) or something cool like that?”

“Um, no” said Colt. “Your code name is ‘White Weasel’ – and that’s final. The paperwork’s all been done and everything”.

“Awww…’White Weasel’ doesn’t sound cool at all”.

“Hey, some of those weasels can be pretty aggressive” Colt reassured the sulking lawmaker. “Now let’s move on and introduce you to some of the equipment you’ll be using. This is your pistol –a Glock 9mm. You’ll like the Glock, sir – here, just hold it”.

“Hmmm, surprisingly light” said Harry. ”Pow! Pow! Kerchow-kerchow!”

“Whoops! Hehehe, sir – don’t ever point it at anything you don’t want to shoot. You don’t want to shoot me, do you?”

“I suppose not. Sorry, Agent Loco”.

“No problem, sir. Now the safety catch is located right –“

“I see it!” said Harry as the magazine dropped out and clattered on the floor.

“That’s the magazine release, sir. Let’s just pick up all these cartridges now…”

“Cartridges? I thought they were bullets”.

“No sir, the bullet is this lead thing here at the – oh never mind. Fine, let’s pick up all these bullets” fumed Colt, thinking that this was going to be one helluva long training program…

And so it was. Harry turned out to be hopeless with a pistol: he could hit anything – the floor, the walls, the lights, his own foot (almost) but not the target.

“You really need to try not to shut your eyes when you squeeze the trigger, Senator” urged Colt again and again.

Harry wasn’t much better on the obstacle course, hanging frozen with fear on the rope for so long that birds nested on him.

During judo practice he yelled “I give!” before Colt even touched him.

He could only do three push ups before collapsing and having to be rushed to the secret CIA clinic with a suspected heart attack.

He threw up in the jump plane and it went everywhere.

He couldn’t learn basic Arabic, despite intensive tuition:

“Okay, Senator. Let’s try it again. You’re in the middle of Cairo. You need to ask directions to the Pyramids. You stop a passerby and you say…?”

“Hi, how are you doing? I’m Harry Reid – can I count on your vote in November?”

“No, no, no! Try again, please”.

“Um, voolay vooz lez Pyramids, monsewer?”

“No, no. Say it in Arabic, Senator!”

“Um…abba gabba ubba dubbba?”

“Well, that’s a little better…”

Join us tomorrow for more of the action adventures of Harry Reid!

(I love sticking it to this little creep, so here goes…)

“Harry, come right in! So good to see you” grinned the President, setting the latest Enemies List update carefully to one side. “Thanks for stopping by”.

“My pleasure, Mr President” smiled Harry, shaking hands with practiced ease. “Um, I thought that Madame Secretary of State was going to be joining us?”

“Hillary? She’s busy getting her back waxed or something” read the President, glancing at the helpful teleprompter. “No, I wanted to speak with you in confidence, Harry, about a matter of the utmost urgency…urgency…urgency. Darn it, this thing is stuck again!”

“Try giving it a shake – there you go. Is it about all the earmarks, Mr President? Look, I can justify every one of…”

“No, no, no” the President waved a dismissive hand. “That’s small potatoes. Don’t sweat it”. The President ignited another Marlboro Light from the remnants of the last one.

“Smoke?” he invited.

“No thanks, Mr President. We Mormons don’t smoke”.

“Really? You don’t know what you’re missing” coughed the President. “Now look Harry” he read, moving his head slowly in the now-familiar scanning motion. “Everybody knows that you may not be exactly the smartest guy in Congress, you may not be the best looking or the most charismatic…”

Gosh – it’s like he can see into my soul, marvelled Harry.

“You may not be the most compelling orator…”

Wha? wondered Harry, nodding off for a second at the thought of one of his own speeches.

“You may be grey, boring, witless and as corrupt as they come…”

Why’s he buttering me up like this? Harry pondered.

“But I think you’re just the kind of fall guy, I mean Special Envoy, we need for a diplomatic mission so urgent, so secret, so dangerous…”

Dangerous? worried Harry.

“And so important to the future of this bitter, confused and Bush-plagued country that only the most disposable, I mean invaluable, of statesmen could be entrusted with its execution”.

Statesman! Harry jubilated. He called me a statesman – me! Oh boy!

“Tell me more, Mr President” panted Harry. “Tell me more”.

The President opened a desk drawer and drew out a color photograph of a be-turbanned man with a long flowing beard. “You know who this is, Harry?”

“It’s the guy who checked my bags in at the airport”.

“No, Harry” said the President. “Its Osama Bin Laden, the world’s most wanted terrorist, after Bush. I want you to contact him and begin the appeasement process, I mean, peace process that will bring this man and our nation into a warm embrace of forgiveness and mutual understanding”.

“But Mr President” stammered Harry. “Didn’t he declare war on us? Didn’t he kill thousands of innocent Americans on 9/11? It was in all the papers!”

“That was a long time ago, Harry” tutted the President “And Americans have short memories”.

“Huh? What were we talking about?” queried Harry.

“Exactly! In fact, how do you know 9/11 even happened – seen any pictures of it on TV lately?”

“Well…no”.

“Exactly! You see Harry, I’m something of a student of history and I remember what Napoleon said when he was King of the Roman Empire: “carpet dime”, which means “there’s no time like the present” and now’s the right time for us to unclench our fists and move forward, hand in hand with these moderate elements who may be misguided but who have, after all, legitimate grievances, in a constructive dialogue which will bring about our total capitulation, I mean a new understanding”.

“Um, I’m not so sure about this, Mr President…” wavered Harry.

“But I am! And I won the election – so hop to it, Harry! I’m sending you off for some special training to get you ready and then you’ll be dropped near Bin Laden’s secret location to seek him out and commence negotiations”.

“Secret location? Where’s that?”

“I just said it’s a secret, Harry” snapped the President. “Are you deaf or something? Sheesh. But I can tell you that its…” and he bent over and whispered in Harry’s ear “Mmmppll mbmbmb”.

Harry’s watery eyes widened in surprise. “Really? No way!”

“Way” said the President. “And you can take that all the way to the part-nationalized bank!”

So just where is “Mmmppll mbmbmb”? The world wants to know! Learn more in tomorrow’s instalment…

I breathed a sigh of relief when Roberts was voted in.

BTW, I used to dream of impeachment too…then I remembered the line to the throne passes thru Biden and Polosi. Yikes!!!

The ballot box is our best bet in a year and a half. We HAVE to get conservatives in.

(p.s.Oh, I’m gonna miss that edit button)

They do it all the time pdsand.

That is why they spent decades to capture the education system and the media.

The whole rad/soc/communist coup is predicated on brainwashing more than 50% of the voting population.

Other elements of the strategy include:
- multiplying the vote of retards through illegal means (Acorn, etc)
- extending the right to vote to natural liberal constituencies (criminals, homeless, etc)
- capturing the judiciary
- torqueing the law wherever possible
- abuse of free speech
- supression of free speech
- intimidation
- graft
- and on and on

It isn’t difficult to understand.

On one side, you have people, like ourselves, who respect and follow the Constitution, the law, and tradition.

On the other side, you have amoralists who place no boundaries whatsoever on what they will do. They are only bound by what they think they can get away with.