Letter to a Terrorist

Dear Middle-Eastern Terrorist,

I won't refer to you as Muslim or Islamic, because you have the same connection with that religion that I, a white, non-Muslim infidel does.

But I will say that I totally get you. Like, I am passionate, too.

I just love the way John Bonham's drums sound in “When the Levee Breaks”. And Roger Daltry's scream just as the dam holding back the torrent of the Who's musical fury gives way in “Won't Get Fooled Again”.

And the way Bob Dylan experiments with his phrasing on a good night while singing a song he's sung hundreds—if not thousands—of times. And the Beatles' ascendant voices during the intro of their remake of the Isley Brothers' "Twist and Shout".

And who among us has remained unmoved by the cowbell that introduces “Honky Tonk Women”? It just rocks!

But there are some things I don't get. 

Like why you guys are such pussies. I mean, what's with the face covering, anyway? Did you just moisturize or what?

It's like you're embarrassed to be sociopaths hiding behind the skirts of religion as you feed your true passion, which is beheading children, raping women and setting fire to guys in cages who, thanks to your barbarism, have long since lost the will to live.

Come on.

If Jamie Dimon over at JP Morgan - Chase Bank has the chutzpah to come out and publicly whine about how rough it is to be a twenty-first century banker—even as he makes billions of dollars and essentially dictates policy to America's government—can't you come out and likewise own your passions—such as they are?

It's just really hard to respect you, otherwise.

Even as one with an admittedly faint sense of patriotism, nothing arouses it as does your petulant campaign of coercion, callousness and cowardice. You are the political equivalent of a seven year-old who was denied the use of his iPhone because he didn't eat his vegetables. 

Weren't you breast-fed? 

Perhaps you are a middle child.

Be the man your overheated harangues say you are. Strip away your masks. Show us who you really are. Besides, is it not a bit ironic to realize that in the end, we want the same thing? Does not each of us want to see you reunited with Allah as soon as is humanly possible?

We could even send along some Astroglide and Viagra for those 40,000 virgins. You know. Just in case.

Think about it. You know where to find me.

Sincerely,

La Piazza Gancio