We are playing catch-up here due to a whirlwind of house renovations and extra work-work to make up for taking time off at the end of the month. Somewhere in there between framing in a new window and writing a stunning summary of 19th-century European gunflint industries, a couple of very pretty Brits got hitched and some very badass USN SEALs offed Osama bin Laden.
Two birds, one stone.
I am gratified that bin Laden is dead, and do not feel even a little bit of remorse for hoping that his last 40 minutes were filled with mounting fear and the ultimate soul-sucking realization that his god had utterly deserted him. Osama, meet DEVGRU. They don’t like you. Be that as it may, I was somewhat taken aback at the crowds chanting U-S-A-U-S-A, like we’d just won the hockey gold medal or a World Series that actually included the entire world; it felt just a touch unseemly—though I admittedly am unsure of the etiquette surrounding the chumming of the Indian Ocean with a murderous fuckhead—and a little premature. He’s dead, but it’s more akin to cutting the head off the hydra rather than the snake, which means this mess ain’t nowhere near finished. Ayman al-Zawahiri, ‘nuff said.