An Open Letter To Osama Bin Laden

If you want Whitney, you can have her. Seriously. Is that all it will take for you to call off the jihad and let us run that oil pipeline through Central Asia? We will whack up the petroleum profits with you and allow you free reign to run smack through our inner cities. Compared to meth, we do not mind the heroin so much. We would rather have our kids chasing the dragon in a tenement somewhere and performing oral sex on a balding, middle-aged accountant in an Arby’s bathroom for their next fix as opposed to setting up a combustible meth lab in a middle American neighborhood where they could blow up an innocent, blue collar family scraping by on a meager salary provided by the local concrete factory. We could lure Whitney onto a plane filled with cocaine and economically deprived children. Can we send you Bobby Brown, too? He has not given us anything since Don’t Be Cruel and his musical future does not look too bright with his constant illegal proclivities and all. We will not even care if you cut his head on Al Jazera as a warning to other Western infidels that you are not be fucked with. Consider it. An offer this good only comes along once in a lifetime.

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