I know the Taliban is the evolution of the rag-tag Mujahadeen that is the Frankenstein of Cold-War Era Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. I know that. I also know Afghanistan is seperated from ISIL/ISIS activity in Syria by at least two countries (Iran/Iraq) and a half a decade. I know this. I also know that ISIL/Daesh is the Frankenstein of post-Saddam Iraq and a jaded Al Qaeda leadership with lack of creativity. I know, I know! But it’s Friday, in America. As such, after this afternoon’s ABSURD news that was admittedly one of my favorite pieces to write and deconstruct, let’s take a flashback to a nostalgic time when we could all cheer behind a one-dimensional narrative of sending a lil shock-n-awe after THE TALIBAN!
You want to know a secret? Limes are a lot more dangerous than they’d have you think. They’re a stealth weapon, trained in assuming a most unassuming look. They sheath their dark side away, playing nice with cilantro and coconuts. But don’t believe that act. Not even for second. Because every lime you see, whether dancing alongside tacos or tottering gracefully on the edge of a gin and tonic, is a deadly secret agent trained in the covert ops.
They start young, mastering the skills of citrus camouflage, hiding away in plain sight. They mingle with the other citrus fruits, mimicking the shape of lemons and kumquats. They learn how to make themselves appealing, playing up to your subconscious desire for refreshment. They squirm their way into your life, sneaking into colas and cocktails, waiting silently, lurking, tempting you to let them in, tempting you to drink them up. And once they’re in your body, they’ve got you. The blood hides no secrets from a trespassing lime drop.
But perhaps you fancy yourself a clever one, immune to liquid lust? It doesn’t matter. If they want to, they can take you down. All it takes it one swift squeeze, a peel pinch, and they’re squirting death straight into your eye. TAKE THAT IRIS! KUNG-POW PUPIL! CORNEA JUDO CHOP! And just like that, you’re on the verge of being dropped. You’re disoriented. You’re disabled. You’re down for the count. That’s the way of the lime. You can beg for mercy then, but the lime never stops. No, it keeps coming. The lime degrades you, attacking open nicks and cuts, spraying the liquid citrus scorch, stinging away until you’ve had more than enough. At that point, you give in. At that point, the lime has won. At that point, the lime has exactly what it wants.
Power. The world is controlled by those who have consumed limes, by those who have fallen to the frightful wrath of the green leathery fruit. But those limes aren’t just consumed and discarded. They stay. They take hold. They control. Every decision, every action, every moment, it’s all influenced by what the lime wants. This is their world. And their conquering it drop by tiny drop.
Think about it. Or don’t. I doubt very much that’s what your lime wants…
If you MUST choose a career in terrorism, and you MUST be a direct enemy of the United States, and you JUST GOTTA update your twitter followers on your sweet new territory gains – try not imploring the most advanced intelligence and Air Force in human history to play hide and seek/destroy with you.
This is advise a selfie-stick-wielding wonderkid could’ve used (that and try not being a terrorist in the first place). Taking a selfie and posting it on social media is the kind of stunt that gets these guys off, and frankly has been effective in recruiting 3,400 Westerners (including 200 Americans according to CNN). But, leaving your geo-tagged LOCATION on? Come on, man. That’s the kinda stunt that gets you demoted or fired from your respective terrorist cell. If nothing else, it gets a bored Air Force Pilot… FIRED UP. When he was just chillin like so:
According to Air Combat Command General Hawk Carlisle,
“The guys working down out of Hurlburt, they’re combing through social media and they see some moron standing at this command… in some social media, open forum, bragging about the command and control capabilities for Daesh, ISIL. And these guys go: ‘We got an in.’”
Let’s take a break here and imagine that scenario. Picture the young USAF intelligence officer. All he does ALL DAY is tirelessly scroll through propaganda timelines, and everything kinda blurs together after a while. What’s the first thought that comes to mind when he realizes what they land on right before he takes a smoke bathroom break? “Nooo. This jackass CAN’T be for real!” He calls the rest of the team like:
So everybody suits up like:
Okay, let’s let the General finish:
“So they do some work, long story short, about 22 hours later through that very building, three [Joint Direct Attack Munitions] take that entire building out”
Friday is close enough to Sunday.