Friday, August 11, 2006

Bin Lovin' 

A: The Wonder Years, Miami Vice, and MacGyver.

Q: What are Osama bin Laden's favorite television shows?

The above is but one of the fascinating fun facts to be gleaned from Diary of a Lost Girl, an autobiographical work by Kola Boof, whose varied resume includes stints as a staff writer on Days of Our Lives and, for several months in 1996, as mistress to the aforementioned O. bin Laden. (Excerpts appear in the September issue of Harper's, which is not available online but may be had for $6.95 at better newsstands.) Connoisseurs of suavete will not be surprised to learn that, in addition to his other notable achievements, the terrorist mastermind is also quite han-day with the lay-days:
He would humiliate me by making me dance naked. It was such a strange thing, because for the most part he believed music was evil. If a guest at the estate played music, he would cover his ears until the "poison" was silenced. But other times he would become this devout party boy who wanted to hear Van Halen or some B-52's. To this day I hear the song "Rock Lobster" in my sleep. I would be jerking around like a white girl -- "Dance like a Causasoid girl!" he would say -- and his eyes would track me from one side of the terrace to the other. "Your ass is too big, show me the front," he said. Osama, you understand, did not know the difference between being vicious and being tender . . . .

At last I thought my only escape from death was to seduce him. He wanted to fuck me: that was the only good card in the deck. So I stretched up and kissed Osama very softly on the mouth. I undid my robe and let it slip down to the floor.

"Put your clothing back on," he told me. "I don't want to see this acting. I want to see the real you. Serve me something to eat."

I made a pot of tea and served him chunky crab salad on pita crackers and thickened tofu with dates in it. His lust was thick. He smoked a little marijuana from a gold hookah, sipping his tea and instructing me that I was always to keep hot tea for his "kif-cambo," to ease the burn in his chest.

"Why do you wear your hair braided?" he asked.

"Because my braids are beautiful," I replied.

Osama said only monkeys braid their hair. He told me that the singer Whitney Houston was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and that she never wore her hair braided. "I want you to fix your hair like hers from now on," he said. "I can't put my fingers through it when it's braided" . . . .

Osama kept coming back to Whitney Houston. He asked if I knew her personally when I lived in America. I told him I didn't. He said that he had a paramount desire for Whitney Houston, and although he claimed music was evil, he spoke of someday spending vast amounts of money to go to America and try to arrange a meeting with the superstar. It didn't seem impossible to me. He said he wanted to give Whitney Houston a mansion that he owned in a suburb of Khartoum . . . . Whitney Houston's name was the one that would be mentioned constantly. How beautiful she is, what a nice smile she has, how truly Islamic she is but is just brainwashed by American culture and her husband -- Bobby Brown, whom Osama talked about having killed, as if it were normal to have women's husbands killed.
We suspect that subsequent events may have damaged Mr. bin Laden's chances with Ms. Houston. On the other hand, that Bobby Brown is nuts.

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