Special Iraq Election Coverage
by Iowahawk Correspondent Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi
Senior VP, Al-Qaeda In Iraq
Yozup, haters? Awwwyeahhh, the Zarkman's comin' at ya from B-town, and me and the Q Crew be all up in this bish. Infidel who runs this blog says all y'alls over in Satanland got some big hard-on about this Iraqi election shit, and asked me if I would jack his hit counter with a little local Q Crew flava. Normally Zarkman would tell the tell the punkass bitch to go suck it. But the choads at Pajamas Media are passin' out the Haterade, so somebody's gotta give you the Team Z POV.
So here's the dilly: Zarkman will be live blogging this bitch until the polls close, or at least until Team Satan comes a-knocking at the safehouse. You got a question for the Zarkman? Drop it in the comments section, but you kuffars better not be hatin'. Until the next update, here's some more of the Zarkman flow:
Bwa ha ha! Yo, Team Satan! Time for you to see how al-Qaeda rolls, bitches. My munitions man Tariq just got a trained donkey wired up with a little ammonium nitrate election present for ya, and two of the new Saudi recruits volunteered to walk it down to a Shiite polling place. Too late now, bitches, 'cause they're almost to the site and we got a live Qaeda-cam ready to broadcast it to the world. Don't be clickin' on this at work, because there might be some exploding people and horrible donkey destruction.
Ummmm... shit. Be back soon.
Okay, I admit the donkey martyr thing didn't go so hot. Anyhoo, I was trolling the Pajama Infidel site and saw the thing about this 105-year old dude going to vote, so I dialled the two Saudi donkey boys to go stop him. Guess what? The stupid f'ers had their freaking cell phones on vibrate. Well, gee, far be it from Zarkman to interrupt a jihadi in the throws of donkey passion WHILE PEOPLE ARE VOTING ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE. So I told Tariq to hit the remote donkey 'splode button, and let Allah sort out who gets to paradise. My money's on the donkey.
Alright, the donkey boys are taken care of, but that still leave the old dude voter. So I grabbed a couple of the French recruits outside the lobby having a smoke break and told them to go pop a cap in the geezer's ass, and they started looking at each other kinda uncomfortable.
"Is there a problem?" I ask, and they're like, "but Monsieur Zarqawi, he is like, 100 years old."
Well, chuuhh, you French morons. That's exactly why he's PR gold for the freaking Iraqi puppets.
So anyway, I convince the two idiots to go take the old bastard out, and they're not gone 20 minutes before they come hobbling in the door with bloody noses and black eyes and grabbing their nutsacks.
"What happened?" I ask. "Team Satan? Iraqi Security?"
Sighhhhh. Dude, I wish. Seems as soon as my crack jihadis grabbed ol' Gramps' ballot, he went all Bruce Lee on their sorry French asses.
Holy dung, if alcohol wasn't haram I'd be total drunk right now.
Infidel commenter JamesT asks:
Okay, I called a meeting of my direct reports in the Assad Conference Cave and asked 'em for an mayhem update. "Abdul? Tariq? Anyone?" Except for a few flies, freaking dead silence. And I'm like, "What do I pay you fuckers for?" and all they can do is stand there and study their flip-flops. So I go back to Pajamas Media, thinking maybe they'd have some bloody torso shots, whe I see this.
Women voting? In fargin' burqqas?? I mean, hellooooo, Planet Dar Al-Islam, is there any intelligent life down there? Holy Fucking Prophet, what's next -- not stoning homos?
The whole thing was such a buzzkill I decided to go home for lunch. My sons were all off at madrassa and the only wife at home was the fat one, Fatima, who was watching the stupid non-son shorties who all need expensive hijjabs and farkin' dowries. Anyway I think I kind of freaked Fatima out, she said something about the other wives "doing errands."
So I'm sitting at the table, telling her about the donkey crapstorm, and the old man, and the voting chicks, and she's like "mmm hmm," while she's frying up some chick peas. Then she comes over to the table with the pan and I notice something odd: she's got a purple finger.
She gives me this sheepish look from her eye slit, and she says it was "a burn from kitchen accident."
I don't know, dude. Something weird is going on around here.
Back at the office, checking my email. Anyhow, no explosion reports from the regional offices OSM is still not returning my messages. Nothing but spam, another stupid fan mail from Juan Cole, and joke George Bush chimp pictures from the Kos Kids. For Muhammed's sake will you fuckers lay off it? The IT guys are always bitching that your jpegs are choking our server, and believe me: we've seen every fucking George Bush monkey picture already.
Word to you ironic trucker hat peace fucks: don't hate the playa, hate the game. Little help please? Instead of sending me another ha-ha monkey picture of President Chimplerburton Gitmostein, get your lazy Urban Outfitters-ed ass on the next plane to Damascus. We're trying to stop Team Satan here, and every little bit helps.
PS - can anybody recommend a spam filter that gets rid of the MoveOn.org and Air America beg-o-grams? Holy dung, I keep putting them on the do-not-spam list, but those fuckers are more persistent than the Russian Rolex ads.
Okay, this is starting to suck bigtime. I finished writing thank-you notes to the donkey boys' families, so I switched on the tube to catch CNN. Mohammed H. Prophet, can't they run anything but bad news? "big turnout," "carnival atmosphere," "jubilation" ... I mean, WTF? So I Khalid switched the satellite to BBC, and it was even worse. For fuck sake, it's almost 5 hours 'til Keith Olbermann and I couldn't take that gloom and doom shit any longer, so I fired up the browser and checked some of the dhimmi sites.
Holy dung, WTF? It's like a bizarro world where people - even chicks - are voting, and they completely freaking chose to ignore it! Helloooooo, dhimmis, isn't this is the same goddamn system that gave you George Bush?
This is getting embarrassing. After the Satan Puppets extended poll hours I thought my tards would have a chance to avoid a shutout, but now I can see our offense is so fucking pathetic they probably couldn't score with paradise full of virgins and an instruction manual.
Holy dung, I... hold a sec, it's Big Daddy Saddam on the IM.
SPIDEYHOLE_999: yo zarx whaz da fizz
ZARKMAN_385: samo samo
SPIDEYHOLE_999: howz dat donkey tang LOL PIMP
ZARKMAN_385: fokk u homes
ZARKMAN_385: those were saudis
SPIDEYHOLE_999: not what I hrd
SPIDEYHOLE_999: ali sez donkey luv u long time joe LOL
ZARKMAN_385: f u azzhole
ZARKMAN_385: need sm hlp
ZARKMAN_385: u had elections,,,, how 2 stop vote?????
SPIDEYHOLE_999: try 2 kill 'em yet? alwys worked 4 me
ZARKMAN_385: yup,,,, no good
SPIDEYHOLE_999: beets da fok outta me
SPIDEYHOLE_999: maybe it only wrks when u kill da ppl who don't vote LOL
ZARKMAN_385: thx bro,, gtg,,, bloggin 2day :)
SPIDEYHOLE_999: lol bloggin is hella gay homes
SPIDEYHOLE_999: get yr azz out and kill smbody
ZARKMAN_385: f u homes somebody gotto run da jihad
SPIDEYHOLE_999: later bro gtg 2 a noose fitting
Okay, I promised to answer a few questions, so let's get at it.
I heard some haters beefin' like Ali G is yo couzin. Is that fo-real?
- Dr. Z
Let me tell you a little story. One of the boys on Team Jihad use to think Ali G was all that, that the brother had the Mecca mad flow. One day he was sittin' in the office with his Ali G t shirt and Ali G ring tone cell phone, the whole thing, when we found out Ali G's real name was "Sasha Cohen." You fill in the rest.
Just got back from a year of playing tag with your boys. Not a scratch on me. How's that feel?
Feel? Ha for you, Satan. I've taken so many laser-guide enemas from you cold mofos that I've lost feeling in both buttcheeks, sphincter, and the first 16" of colon.
I suppose this has to sting worse than the last Afghan election, right?
Probably; but not as bad as an acute case of camel crabs after an R&R weekend in Riyadh. Word to all you young jihadis -- wear your jimmie hats.
Shee-yat. Polls are closed, street sweepers are out, so it's time to add up the final score. For us? Lessee, according to the old Excel spreadsheet, we racked up.... two horny Saudi motards and their four-legged girlfriend.
Ugh. Looks like everbody else went home for the night, since I'm pretty much the only guy left in the office. Can't say I blame 'em, cause I admit I can get pretty pissy and behead-y after a bad day at the Jihad, and sometimes I take it out on the subordinates. But cripes - can't these guys turn off the lamps before they split?
Truth is, though, I'm more tired than angry. Tomorrow is Another Day, bro. I guess I could head home to the three nagging wives and the house full of idiot kids who need help with their Quran homework. Or maybe I could stay here at the office and file a few reports and watch some JibJab cartoons. Anything, just as long as I don't have to see another freaking purple finger.