Hola, Barack!
You remember me: the one-eyed, fanatical leader of the Taliban, formerly head of state in Afghanistan, sworn, diabolical enemy of America, and the guy who gave Osama his big break back in 2001. Of course you do, though if I had happened to have slipped your mind completely, just go back to forgetting I exist.
Just because I'm salutating you in Spanish doesn't mean I'm hiding out in Mexico! Although I'm sure one, or perhaps all of your famous Seal teams would enjoy spending some time there looking for me!
Yeah, that Osama. I know you might think I'm upset about the way things ended up between you and him but three words for that: Not at all! We were never that close. The guy just used me as a steppingstone, frankly. Also, when we were both fleeing in terror from advancing American forces back in the day, he "accidentally" took one of my wives and my six-burner Weber Summit Gas Grill with him. Easy enough to pick up another wife, but while grilling over real charcoal is nice once in a while, after ten years it gets old.
We barely spoke after that, but I did tell him after you were elected "Hey, the guy's got an "O" in a major part of his name, too. Maybe we could all band together, in a loose, independent contractor kind of way, and call ourselves the "O" team."
Never heard back from him. He could be surly, like that. And while he'd make a big deal about being a Saudi Arabian billionaire, especially around the girls, the guy had no taste whatsoever. You look at that place he had, and honestly, the original plan you had to blow it into chunks from a B-2 might really have helped local real estate values. It had "trailer trash with cash" written all over it. Been following the videos closely. Not that I'm worried about chopper drop-bys myself. I was just looking to see if he still had my grill.
What I'm trying to address here is that "diabolical enemy of America" thing. I'm just going to drop it. Sure, we can't agree on everything. You're the freely elected leader of a diverse, secular nation who also plays a mean game of hoops and I'm a crippled fugitive religious fanatic and my hobbies include stoning women to death and chopping off people's hands, but that doesn't mean we have nothing in common.
So let's be "frenemies," Barack. It's a new thing. If you've never heard of it, ask your kids. It means that while we still get to be antagonists, deep down, we recognize that the other is chill. We talk a little smack about each other, but we never send crack commando teams with into each other's homes at one AM on kill missions, because that would just not be cool.
You can say anything you want about me, buddy, but you can count on me being far from your worst enemy. I'm never going to ask to see your college grades. So what if you got a "C" in Political Science because you spent that sophomore semester completely baked? Hasn't stopped you from making ol' Rhodes Scholar Hillary your wench. And after you mount another spine-tingling midnight raid against another enemy of your state (not me, remember) I'm not going to come out and call you a "pussyfooter," like that Alaska woman did, and not just because I mind looking like an idiot. Far from it. I'm your biggest secret admirer. Ask anybody in my camp at my currently undisclosed location, nowhere near Pakistan, or any other country that ends with an "n." Like Iran. Or Japan. So don't look there.
Let me know your thoughts. Email is good. I'm sure your CIA has my Yahoo! ID.
Peace out,
Omar
You remember me: the one-eyed, fanatical leader of the Taliban, formerly head of state in Afghanistan, sworn, diabolical enemy of America, and the guy who gave Osama his big break back in 2001. Of course you do, though if I had happened to have slipped your mind completely, just go back to forgetting I exist.
Just because I'm salutating you in Spanish doesn't mean I'm hiding out in Mexico! Although I'm sure one, or perhaps all of your famous Seal teams would enjoy spending some time there looking for me!
Yeah, that Osama. I know you might think I'm upset about the way things ended up between you and him but three words for that: Not at all! We were never that close. The guy just used me as a steppingstone, frankly. Also, when we were both fleeing in terror from advancing American forces back in the day, he "accidentally" took one of my wives and my six-burner Weber Summit Gas Grill with him. Easy enough to pick up another wife, but while grilling over real charcoal is nice once in a while, after ten years it gets old.
We barely spoke after that, but I did tell him after you were elected "Hey, the guy's got an "O" in a major part of his name, too. Maybe we could all band together, in a loose, independent contractor kind of way, and call ourselves the "O" team."
Never heard back from him. He could be surly, like that. And while he'd make a big deal about being a Saudi Arabian billionaire, especially around the girls, the guy had no taste whatsoever. You look at that place he had, and honestly, the original plan you had to blow it into chunks from a B-2 might really have helped local real estate values. It had "trailer trash with cash" written all over it. Been following the videos closely. Not that I'm worried about chopper drop-bys myself. I was just looking to see if he still had my grill.
What I'm trying to address here is that "diabolical enemy of America" thing. I'm just going to drop it. Sure, we can't agree on everything. You're the freely elected leader of a diverse, secular nation who also plays a mean game of hoops and I'm a crippled fugitive religious fanatic and my hobbies include stoning women to death and chopping off people's hands, but that doesn't mean we have nothing in common.
So let's be "frenemies," Barack. It's a new thing. If you've never heard of it, ask your kids. It means that while we still get to be antagonists, deep down, we recognize that the other is chill. We talk a little smack about each other, but we never send crack commando teams with into each other's homes at one AM on kill missions, because that would just not be cool.
You can say anything you want about me, buddy, but you can count on me being far from your worst enemy. I'm never going to ask to see your college grades. So what if you got a "C" in Political Science because you spent that sophomore semester completely baked? Hasn't stopped you from making ol' Rhodes Scholar Hillary your wench. And after you mount another spine-tingling midnight raid against another enemy of your state (not me, remember) I'm not going to come out and call you a "pussyfooter," like that Alaska woman did, and not just because I mind looking like an idiot. Far from it. I'm your biggest secret admirer. Ask anybody in my camp at my currently undisclosed location, nowhere near Pakistan, or any other country that ends with an "n." Like Iran. Or Japan. So don't look there.
Let me know your thoughts. Email is good. I'm sure your CIA has my Yahoo! ID.
Peace out,
Omar
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