I was at a friend’s place lately, and we were both talking about … The World. Yes, we have those sort of conversations. We were wondering what it is that the world really needs. We were thinking that it must be ignorance that’s causing all this strife. That information is not flowing fast enough, and not to the right people. We were thinking that if everybody could speak to everybody then surely the wars would cease. Surely once everybody knew everybody else’s point of view, then understanding would take place. One Big Climatic Moment Of World Communication would invariably lead to that age of blissful peace.

Surely, we thought, the Internet must be the solution. We need everybody in the world to have a PC and a ‘net connection. We need everybody to log on – we need the whole world to confront itself. American needs to talk to Afghani, perhaps less so the other way around. Get the damn politicians out of the picture. They are anationlist.

People aren’t that stupid, no matter what the media would like to think. I see the news and so do you. I see Arafat shaking hands with Bush, who in turn shakes hand with Fahd, who in turn shakes hands with Mubarak, who in turn shakes hands with, etc…etc…and it just goes on and on. They all shake each others hands, and they sit down and eat and drink, together. This is not a unique point of view, I was in a cab two days ago, and the cab driver had clearly seen the same thing.

They’re all pals, buddies. A politican is neither American, nor Palestinian, nor Israeli, nor Pakistani – a politician is a politician. He belongs to nothing other than that group of jet-setting, camera-smiling, champagne-drinking, pot-bellied group of world-destroyers. The people who shake each others’ hands as they send the children of their nation to kill each other. Everybody sees this. It is clear as day.

So, I’m with my friend Yanni at his apartement. We’re trying to fix the world. We’re really thinking our asses off, trying, as pathetic as that may sound, to actually save this damn world. As we talk, as we hope the internet might help fix things, and as we realize that some people have no food, not to mention a phone line, not to mention, by far, a ‘net’ connection…I glimpse the TV screen. Out of the corner of my eye, on the BBC, I see some footage of the No.1 Anti-Taliban so-called Afghani – Abdullah Abdullah, oh, no – excuse me – Dr. Abdullah Abdullah.

Ah, I notice. This time, our pal ‘Abdullah’ is in a suit. Not only that, but his set has changed. He’s now on an embroidered chair, and in the background, there’s a wall, not a mountain or a hill, not a tank, or a child, in the background, as part of his set there is also a large flag. The scene, simply put, is more presedential.

The new puppy, is, in short, getting a good grooming.

Since I have personally first seen Abdullah, since this whole damn Let’s Bully & Starve Afghanistan War started, one thing has been clear. He’s been moving up. Time after time his set has become more elaborate. He looks better-shaved. He looks, if I may, like they’ve been scrubbing the fleas out of him.

Bin Laden on the other hand – as we all know – as you have all seen, as there is ample evidence to document, has been dressed in the same attire, in the same practical, and rather humble attire, I might add – for years now. The man is not in need, or want, of a new suit. His set hasn’t changed. We see him time and time again, in a tent, in a mountain, in a cave. He is not reclined in a lazy-boy, and he is not wearing the new deoderant by Gillette. The man, regardless of whether or not you agree with his opinions – is clean. He has the markings of sincerity. Markings, in fact, that the Arab World has not seen for more than 1400 years. A man who, on the face of it, actually appears to be sincere. This is what gives the man his power. It is not a greed .

The man is a multi-billionnaire. He is most certainly not in want of a suit. This is not a desperate man, this is not a man who has resorted to anything.

Does anybody here remember their Bible?

The World’s big bully has its authority challanged by one small man. The small man is from a less powerful faction. The small man is handed over by the faction to the bully. He is not, they insist, one of us. He does not, they insist, represent us. Some poeple, knowing the matter, wash their hands of the whole affair. Yes, the faction insists; he must be murdered. And so it goes….

His blood is still running…