Dear editor (of each of the four San Francisco gay newspapers who received this letter),
I intend to be inside the secured area of Superbowl 50, not because I have any love for sports (which I don’t, especially not football), but because my favorite wifi coffeehouse is located there. Will blog about it if anything interesting occurs.
I, for one, think that all shops in the vicinity should hang a “halal” sign in the most prominent spot of the storefront…and that all females present be adorned in burkas. Plus, all males should wear a false, full beard that reaches at least down to the sternum; and a raggedy old turban. And there should be no species of the canine persuasion visible anywhere…or at least have them clothed in baby camel outfits. Just to play it safe.
Hey, my favorite “coffeehouse” is actually a bagel shop…which may be perceived as a Jewish sanctuary by these terrorists. Even though the workers are Chinese, Phillipino and El Salvadorean. Who knows? Maybe they’re all devotees of Muhamet (pbuh).
I can see it now: the leader in command gestures at The Posh Bagel with a fully loaded Kalishnakov semi-automatic, where I sit by the window, pecking away on my refurbished Lenovo x60s as I type my latest witticism on Eleanor’s Facebook page. And says to his right-hand lackey and bumfuk slave boy:
“See that, Yusef? An Israeli outpost! We must attack it right off. Allah be praised.”
“Wait-a-minute, Ahmad,” the thermite-vest-laden arse-tonguing Shiite/shite sycophant tugs his master’s glistening robe that clings to all parts nether (leaving nothing to the western imperialist cur’s imagination, woven as it is from virgin Guangxi Province recycled Walmart plastic bubble wrap) and pleads:
“I’m starving. Maybe they serve halal.”
The commander then wavers in salivary muse, lowers his rifle and mutters some obscure suras from the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version of the Quran while stroking his alpha-length beard (thus disturbing the dozen or so scarabs burrowed therein; they take wing and flee in all directions).
“You’re right, Yusef, let’s go check it out, I have the mother of all stomach grumblies.”
Zeke Krahlin a.k.a. “Jehovah’s Queer Witness”