The New Yorker & the Terrorist Three

It’s late at night in a cave just east of the Afghanistan-Pakistan border (or just west…who knows?). Osama bin Laden and his second-in-command, Ayman al-Zawahiri, are meeting with Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, hereinafter referred to as O, A, and M, respectively.

~O (brandishing his AK-47): Mahmoud…Allah be praised forever…have you arranged a fatwa yet for the New Yorker editor?
~A (caressing the blade of a dagger): Yes, Mahmoud…Allah damn all American editors…a-a-r-r-g-g-h-h-A-A-R-R-G-G-H-H-A-A-R-R-G-G-H-H…
~O: (firing a small burst upward) Stop it, Ayman…Allah be mortified…overlook that awful scream, Mahmoud, it is something Ayman learned from the American Howard Dean in 2004 and Ayman uses it whenever he is overcome with frustration…
~A: (quieting) Now look what you’ve done, Osama, firing at the ceiling…dead bats all over the place and rocks and water all over our prayer rugs and bat-entrails in our hookah…Allah look the other way for Osama's shame…
~M (shaking all over and flicking a bat-head from his turban): What's with these threats and that awful scream…Allah be not amused at this threat to your most faithful, most intelligent…
~A: Bah! Khomeini – your boss, Mahmoud – could have put out a fatwa…Allah be ashamed of him…within the hour of the publication of that awful New Yorker cover and had someone behead that editor-son of a babbling infidel…but Allah be further ashamed…he is a weak Shiite…
~M: (grabbing his AK-47) Just hold it there, you son of a goat and one-eyed sheep…Allah look down on me, your loyal be-header of Americans and stoner of bad girls…(clicking off the safety) or I’ll put out that other eye and help you join your damnable Sunnis where the virgins never tread and the streets flow with volcanic lava…
~O: ENOUGH…both of you! Even though the American editor made light of me…Allah be thanked for giving me to the world…by putting me on that cover, I am not…praise his name…Mohammad, and can't expect a fatwa. Now, let's get down to business…what did that cover mean…especially that woman in that tight-fitting, camouflage outfit and…whew…
~A: Watch it, Osama…Allah forgive his wandering eye…she should have been wearing a complete burka with only one eye-hole, so she deserves a good stoning or maybe one hand chopped off…Allah be worshiped with a sharp machete…oh…where are you, Zarqawi, when we need blood to flow…
~M: I've heard that the cover was a satrap…Allah deliver me from my puzzlement…and I don't get the connection, since I am the ruler of old Persia and…
~A: SATIRE, you ignorant son of a stupid camel-driver…Allah, have mercy on dimwits…the editor said it was a satire. In my American dictionary…Allah forgive me for touching that language…a satire is a literary work holding up human vices and follies to ridicule or scorn.
~O: Whose vices, Ayman, surely not mine…praise Allah…I have no vices…and those polished combat boots below that tight-fitting…whew…
~M: Please stop drooling, Osama, the mighty Taliban deliverer…Allah be glorified…of all the oppressed Muslims and holy butcher of 9/11…ha, ha, ha…I remember that TV shot of you and old one-eye here…Allah be gloriously praised…laughing when you heard of the bodies flying through the air.
~A: Ah…that was a great day…Allah be given all the credit…and that was a DRY cave, too, not like this miserable hole, where…Allah, forgive my complaining…the bathroom drains inward when the shells hit the side of the mountain, sometimes even splashing in our hookah…uh…did you bring some poppies this trip, Mahmoud, and maybe even some ripe figs?
~O: And a new compass, Mahmoud. This Russian compass, left over from 1988, when the old Reagan helped us…Allah forgive me for uttering that name…throw out the Russkies from that wretched Afghanistan, points to Lenin's tomb instead of true north. I don't ever know where East is, so I'm afraid to pray even once a day…Allah, note my shame…since I might be praying west to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob or even to old Trotsky in the South instead of to Allah!
~M: I have no time for the poppy-fields OR the fig trees…praise Allah for dried prunes…and besides, it's a jungle out there and…
~A: Bah! Jungle? Mahmoud, you've been watching those teeny-bopper American movies again…Allah, forgive him. It's actually a WAR out there, Mahmoud…or…Allah, edify him…haven't you noticed? (ground shakes) See…a war, and we're winning it…a-a-r-r-h-h…
~O (another burst of the AK-47, this time into the wall): Stop it, Aymon…no more Dean screams!
~M: (holding his nose): The bathroom is running under your prayer rug, Osama, and your hookah is in a thousand smelly pieces, and if you're winning, why are you in this…
~A: What does that cover mean…Allah, may the New Yorker be flushed at Gitmo since we don't have a copy here. Does it mean that the Obama and his wife…Allah, look not upon that infidel with mercy…are guilty of vice and folly and should be scorned?
~O: Of course not, Ayman…Allah, give Ayman enlightenment…the editor said it pokes fun at the vast religious righteous right-wing republican conspiracy, not the Obama, also called by the democrats the Obamessiah…ha, ha, ha…oh…ha, ha, ha…their messiah!
~M: What is this messiah business…Allah be not insulted, no matter what it is!
~A: What is a messiah? Oh…ha, ha, ha. Did you hear that, Osama…Allah be merciful to the dense of head? A messiah is a leader, a deliverer, Mahmoud. Your engineering degree is for what…only lines and angles and nothing else?
~M: The Great Mahdi is the messiah…the Guided One…who will come at the end to make the whole world Muslim…Allah be sanctified, glorified and eternally eulogized…and I am building the holy temple for his return, you Sunni devil (grabs Zawahiri's AK-47).
~O: (another burst, this time at the cave-entrance, and a wild scream): ENOUGH! The mahdi is only one of many to be revered, but let's don't argue like the Christians do about religion.
~M: Now, look at what you've done, Osama…Allah forgive him. That was a body-guard, first class. I promoted him from camel-driver, fourth class only last week.
~A: Ah, well…he has been martyred…Allah greet him with the virgins…he died in the service of…ha, ha, ha…the Satire of old Persia…oh…ha, ha, ha!
~M: a-a-r-r-g-g-h-h-A-A-R-R-G-G-H-H-A-A-R-R-G-G-H-H!