Insert Waffle Joke Here
Yesterday I submitted my first post to the Infidel Bloggers Alliance. This is a variation on that theme.
Maybe the Muriel Degauque suicide bombing was just a combination of sexual-linguistic misunderstanding. Perhaps Muriel felt unfulfilled by her less-than-tender Muslim husband (after all jihadists aren't known for being generous lovers). Enveloped in the warm darkness of her burka, Muriel fantasized about the awkward but enthusiastic embrace of a lean, smooth man-child. And if one young lover is pleasing then 72 would be, well, heaven.
So Muriel, the girl next door, was lonely, isolated, untouched. Her second husband Issam, the Belgian-Moroccan death-worshiper, thought the "little button" was what triggers an explosive vest. It had been a long time since she'd experienced la petite mort. While Issam watched Al Jazerra, Muriel figured that ‘the little death’ wouldn’t really do it for her. She needed something, well, bigger, more powerful, longer lasting. Next thing you know she's in Iraq driving a car packed with explosives, itching with anticipation for la grande mort. I believe she was, yet again, unsatisfied.