After the war in Nicaragua the nation was 'up to here' in guns, meaning that otherwise law-abiding guerrillas from the jungles had to turn their sights on their fellow Nicaraguans-- and tourists-- to make an honest living as highway robbers. It became difficult, if not almost impossible, to find a traveler who didn't have a tale to tell of being robbed at gunpoint by a gang of half-drunk men with rifles pointed. I was one of those who never had a problem. But I did have an attack of curiousity. And I asked my travel companion of the time why no one ever tried to rob me. His answer was discouraging. He said, "You look like you don't have any money." I thought it over, and then, as noted elsewhere, got myself some fancy new clothes to wear to impress the world at large. I also concluded that since I then looked like a man of means I would have to protect myself from violent robbery: I got a half-pint plastic bottle of local rotgut whiskey and added a kick to it by dumping in a pack of rat poison before screwing the lid back on and putting the bottle in my day pack, the only luggage I had at the time, my assumption being that if I were robbed by drunks with guns the first thing they would want is my bottle of whiskey. They'd be happy to drink my booze while I fumbled for my wallet and watch, giving us all time for them to feel the effects of the rat poison, making them at least sick enough for me to retrieve my stuff, if not to add to my gun collection while I was at it. But I never did get robbed. Bad luck, I calls it, though better luck for me than for all the bug guys who swarm to catch a closer look at Summer Girl's falling bra. Whoo hoo!
At Belen Market, Iquitos, Peru, reputedly a bad place for tourists getting robbed, once again I seem-- so far-- to be off limits to thieves, the closest I have come to being robbed being the guy who ran past and grabbed from my bag the first thing he could get his hands on, which he returned shortly thereafter in disgust. He said, "Senor, I do not want a copy of Sophocles, Oedipus Rex. If my colleagues found me with this I would lose my standing in the community and be shamed for life. Please take it back. And please, sir," he said very quietly, "do not inform my friends I stole this." So, yes, I can be robbed. The question is how seriously I want to retaliate against someone who would steal from me? Today I got another pack of rat poison, no particular reason for it other than for the love of clever marketing as I bought the pack and laughed over it.
What rat poison could be more poisonous than jihadi rat poison? Yes, it cost me almost a dollar for this pack of poison, but I threw all prudence to the winds and purchased it. Just because. I could not resist. When it comes down to plain numbers, jihadis kill more jihadis than we do, and I call it cause to celebrate. All we need do is pick up a pen and draw a cartoon to make jihadis kill each other by the score. They kill each other in frenzies. Rats kill their own. When I saw Bin Laden Rat Poison, the skies opened up and the voice of The Eternal said, "Buy it, and live to laugh."
Foreign aid? I'm suddenly all for. Bin Laden rat poison for the ummah, I say. As always, drinks are on me.