Well, how about doing what gazillions of lonely, depressive, self-involved youths do all over the world: start a friggin’ band, dress in black, and write godawful songs about it. Rather than, y’know, trying to blow an airliner with a couple hundred innocent people in it out of the sky?
You have to know how to play a musical instrument for that . . .
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No you dont. Believe me.
No sympathy for the creep, but you might be interested in this book by Steve Coll “The Bin Ladens” http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=The+Bin+Ladens+Steve+Coll&x=0&y=0
I grew up some of the time in London and my sister spent a lot of time around the kind of Westernized rich Arabs there in the 70s, similar to some of Osama’s relatives. Coll’s descriptions of the bizarre cultural contradictions for such families helped me imagine some of the motivations of such insane violence. Not justifying it. But all those cliches about know your enemy…
I have a theory that the reason Islamic males are so easily radicalized is a shortage of available Islamic females. If the women were out and about in something other than a wool blanket draped head to toe in a wool blanket they would be dating, having sex or at home masturbating while thinking about dating and having sex. That doesn’t leave much time for building underwear bombs.
You mean those western kids in black can play instruments? Huh. Fooled me.
Oh, and Jenn’s theory is right. Kids who are getting plenty of action seldom worry about using their weenies as fuses for a crotch bomb. Hell, now that I’m too old for the action I used to get I have too many fond memories to want a bomb in my crotch.
I have to admit, I just don’t understand the weenie bombers. Say that little weasel had managed to bring down that airliner? What the Hell was see supposed to do with all those virgins with his dick blown off?
Charlie–Ha!
Jenn and Peter–Yes. Impossible to ignore the repression aspect. Even the most devout Christian or Jewish guy sees enough here and there to . . . at least have good, gooey dreams. Sheesh.