Wait Len, you did not win, you just pretend you did. I am sorry for the analogy and do not want to hurt, but I am naming now :
Nasser : "ce crushed them!"
Irak : the oil raffineries of Haifa are on fire.
Saddam : the us will swim out of my Koweit in his blood"
Binblastard : you white bones shall decorate my desert.
Arafat : We won in Beyrouth, we always winbecausesharon!"
Len : " I zon !"
So you got a problem.
Come drink wine in Israel, I'll intruduce you to my Palestinian friends (guranteed pure nonkosher), and you won't even see the shadow of a rabbi, and you know I won't trap you with a rabbi, Len. Because you know that traping you with a rabbi is worse than organizing a cruise for you on a small yacht, sail the atlantic, lazy tradewinds etc, and your only mate is Gustave GAG Meister. Sure I won't do that to you just the same. You want to know why ? Because I got education, they say, civilization (gatleckh, they say, in arabic)
So let's be serious, cause now we talk: the French Ladies, you said.
Come see other etnies, more exotic, if not sophisticated, unhollywooded, yet, but goodgodwilling for the talented person, if you do not get carried away by that exacerbated arab rhetorics you sometimes plague around, then all the beauty of the whole world can be yours. Like :
Yes you should be able to "chaperon" a dear like beauty young Ethiopian, or to "Arthur Millerize" a fantastic russian blond, even to "Pygmalion" a dazzling Israeli intellectual, her M16 hanging lazily from her shoulder, pressing the soft pale green tee shirt on her young firm breasts, while she started to smile, laugh even, sure of her effect, but with her eyes still on the horizon, making sure those damn Egyptians tanks did not move too fast in her torpedo spectif lense. Then, looking strait into your eyes, deep inside the topaze green pale, but 22% more green, like our galaxy color, the pools of her very, yes, very eyes, made your optic cable get a delighful cramp as she said :
"You Len, you finally came! Here, I'll show you how my world is spinning, and you'll tell me where I am wrong, because you know, and us jews still make a lot of mistakes, we are Asians after all, so help me god.
And as she spoks her hands moved, some people are like that, coordinated one that is, and before she had finished her sentences, she had anihilated, heavenloaded the whole fucken company of BoulganineBismullah Egyptian tanks, and set aflame a doubt in you cristal clear mind, transparent understanding of the whole situation. It was like a stroke of light, you had your first doubt about her intergrity. as her hands had gone into her pants to get the pack of cigarettes out. That gesture was not genuine. Simple brutal, but true. It was practiced, and almost till sunset you thought she had tried to trap you into the Mossad, recruit you return you. Use you against the whole bismullah Arab nation. A billion guys facing you, Len alone, aloof; and when you'll contemplate that scene in your ols age the victory of Samothrace will always be shining at your feet. Yes Len, you have succeded you will be Arab medalled, you have outplayed the goddamn Mossad.
But before Venus had settled to the west followed by the mighty three planets (do your homework alone); she, the Israeli warrior) had finished convincing you that she had never loved Man more Len, and you had made yourself a very big problem :
1/ She ain't Mossad, aint worth her kidnapping unless to be sold to Saudialis, and it's not your type.
2/ You are goint to have a Zionist kid. Soon.
But that is what Life is about, philosopher Len.
So I almost found you the ideal woman. It is easy here, this place is loaded with prophets to be. These are the people I came to pierce. Care to join. The real plan, is that once we really are professionnals,we could apply it to the nice neighbours of mine, all those that have started to amass troops in the area, thus everybody.
Go fight in Saudia, man, Irak is taken care of.
Bush knows what he is doing, he even lets you come to seduce she you think is your enemy, my friend.
But now you are trapped, for I'll write your love story. The main character will be Len Grasso. His trip to fight against his own inner demons concerning judaism, sexuality, politic, homosexuality, faith, napalm.
Man you are in my hand like a birdii in the Palm of Allah the *Vulture. And if you say Judeofascist ever again, you'll get raped by a very fat Palestinian sitting on your back while eating loukoums his eyes riveted on the Baywatch swimming suits TV, then you'll be cut.
An eunuc of course, but clean job, sterile instruments, these people have progressed. On Abdullah's altar I'll sacrifice you, read your virility, in the final dramatic scene, and an Egyptian twenty pound muscular wild cat with very pointed ears will be eyeing the right place your national treasure will fall on the grounds, all his muscles ready to jump your reality into oblivion.
My friend Len, you can get me off your back, but only if you stop spitting. Otherwise I'll wandalize you cells.
Love. |
