Sunday, November 14, 2004
So Yassir Arafat decided that dying naturally was the right way to go. I guess strapping a vest of explosives and ball bearings to his chest and blowing himself to pieces during happy hour in a Tel Aviv bar was only good enough for 17 year olds. Perhaps Yassir didn't want the 72 virgins that come with martyrdom. Theories abound.
Regardless, he's dead. It's always a good thing when a mass murdering terrorist's body reaches a temperature equal to that of the room (irony - that's the definition of a cold blooded animal) no matter what the cause. It still sickens me that the US Government chose to send a representative to this man's funeral. I'm sure we won't be doing that when Bin Laden croaks.
Allow me to do readers a service. Just in case you never choose to visit his grave, he was burried in his Ramallah compound here:
The compound was built to be the headquarters of his "government," the Palestinian Authority. It was a beautiful compound when it was built. It was a symbol of the future that the Palestinians had as a sovereign people. After Arafat declared war on Israel a few years back when Ariel Sharon went for a walk in the holiest site to Jews in the world, Israel baracaded Arafat in his compound and systematcially destroyed it.
Here's how it looks today:
A fitting place for the grave of the man who destroyed the hopes of people who believed.
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