Mahmoud & the Gang

It’s midnight on the roof of the Hilton Manhattan East Hotel in New York and Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is meeting with Malik Zulu Shabazz (born Paris Lewis in Los Angeles), head honcho of the New Black Panther Party, Louis Farrakhan, head honcho of the Nation of Islam, and Jeremiah Wright, FOB (friend of Barack), known hereinafter as A, S, F, and W, respectively…not respectfully. Interpreters are used.

**A: Glad you could…
**W: I don’t care if you do send guns to them Iraqis and teach Stoning-Women 101 to freshmen at that school in Tehran, comin’ all the way up…
**F: Don’t mind Jeremiah there, Mahmoud…you don’t mind if I call you Mahmoud, do you…brothers in the faith and all that…praise Allah? Jeremiah’s been out on the revival circuit rolling in the cash from those love-offerings…LOVE OFFERINGS…oh…hoo-hah…and he’s worn-out baptizing all those suckers into…by the way, Mahmoud, it took me an hour to get through your security…had to take off all my clothes three times…don’t you think that’s a little much, especially since they made my 100 bodyguards pile their guns in an elevator that disappeared?
**S: What’s that awful smell, President A…I’ll just use “A” since I get tongue-tied trying to get out A-a-m-j-d…you can see how it is. In LA, we use code anyway and “A” in an e-mail to a brother stands for “waste a cop” and that just seems to fit you and those Republican Guards that catch all those adultery-type women and…whoopee…blood flyin’…
**A: Brothers, brothers…well, okay, praise Allah, at least you’re a brother, Imam Farrakhan, but Shabazz sounds mighty Islamic, too, Malik, so I guess we’re three-to-one…
**F: Not so fast, Mahmoud…Akbar Allah! Jeremiah is my close colleague and…
**A: Ah, that’s right. He went with you to see Moammar Qadaffi when you were looking for a million dollars…when was that…25 years ago…tell me…you didn’t watch those wicked houris in the dance of the seven vails, did you?
**W: Praise Allah and Buddha, too, and throw in the Hindus! Did we ever watch those houris…is that what they were? I thought it was just a strip-joint like in Chicago and it took Louis five days to remember why he was there.
**A: May Allah look down on you with pity, Allah be worshiped! H-m-m-m…the 72 virgins for the martyrs are also called houris…so…no burqas, huh?
**F: No burqas! Hoo-hah…no anything, Mahmoud. I’ll be sure to be a martyr someday…just assasinate an infidel policeman and get shot…well, Chicago’s full of infidel cops and a suicide bomb would be so messy anyway…not enough left of me for a grand funeral!
**S: but what about that smell…like somebody’s barbecuin’ shoe leather…I can smell it all the way up here in the pure air of New York…ha ha ha…pure air…too close to the UN building for that.
**W: Didn’t you read the paper? Mahmoud brought his own chef and you smelled fricaseed goat. They clean out the best meat and then use the carcass as the puck to play Muslim polo. Half the hotel guests left after the first night and PETA stole all the rest of Mahmoud’s goats and a camel that was supposed to be barbecued last night.
**A: Not exactly true! Only a camel rump-roast is any good. But, tell me, why have you sought out my brilliance?
**S: Our brother Barack is in a bind, A. Even though he claims to be a Christian, a third of Americans consider him one of us and that hurts badly at election time.
**A: Well, isn’t he? He was a Muslim kid for ten years and that’s supposed to make him a Muslim for life…just like the hated Israelis…for life!
**W: But he converted right in my church, Mahmoud…a matter of record, fortunately, except that because I prayed that God would damn America, folks even think I’m one of you and certainly after Barack threw me under the bus for damning America again at the National Press Club. Barack’s doing the backyard circuit now and the Christianity question is always planted after the barbecue but folks still don’t get it.
**A: You mean he’s actually a Christian after all? Allah be mortified…a traitor! When he said he would talk to me anytime without conditions, I thought he was a Muslim, though maybe a hated Sunni so I had a thousand guards trained for the meeting. Mullah Omar and Osama speak to me only when I send guns…they hate us Shiites, like that damnable Saddam did and killed hundreds of thousands of us. The only thing worse than a Sunni is an American.
**S: Well, the crackers all…
**A: Crackers? I thought crackers are good with peanut butter for a snack.
**S: Oh no. Crackers are white people – used to be honkies – but the NBPP changed that…
**A: Now I remember reading it in the paper. One of your brothers, also called Shabazz, screamed in Philadelphia that all the brothers should kill all the crackers and even the cracker-babies. I thought that was odd unless maybe they meant the big Zestas and the little Cheezits ground-up for maybe a fig casserole.
**F: So, as much as we hate to admit it, we need for you to denounce Barack as a hated Christian with maybe a fatwa out against him in the bargain…you know, make it good and get him all kinds of pity for the Congressional vote this year and all the marbles in 2012.
**W: Maybe you could say you learned this in a vision like you had in that UN speech a while back. It was in a vision that I learned that Reagan had AIDS invented to kill off black folk.
**A: Ah yes…that vision…glorious! Later, I spoke at Columbia…hoo-hah…Allah be amused…the school that Barack attended. (pause) Now, about this matter…what’s in it for me?
**F: And it was in a vision that I found out that Bush had the levees in New Orleans sabotaged by the army to let go and kill off black folk.
**A: (stridently) What’s in it for me?
**S: My organization and Louis’s organization, with our thousands of bodyguards, promise you a safe exile if the ayatollahs get mad and issue a fatwa on you or the Israelis bomb your new mosque prepared for the Twelfth Mahdi to rule forever, ruining your power, whichever comes first. (pause) I gotta go…that smell…
**F, W: Me, too…a-a-r-r-h-h-g-g-A-A-R-R-H-H-G-G! (S, F, W, gagging, run out)
**A: Not a bad deal! Hey…wait…oh well…wonder what it’s like in California…