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February 22, 2005

Where's Florence of Arabia When We Need Her?

Another shining example of behavior from friends the Saudis, and their ancient and generous culture.

Suddenly, the woman in the backseat of the Buick opened the door and stepped out. Her abbaya was unfastened. Her scarf and veil were gone. She had long, thick, black hair. She was a young Saudi woman, maybe seventeen or eighteen. She reached up to the sky and she cried, "Momma! Momma!" Blue nylon cord dangled from her wrists. The white-haired driver got out again and scrambled back around the front of the car. In a futile effort to resist, the young woman sprawled out on the road, stretching her arms out in front of her on the baking summer asphalt. The man pulled her arms behind her back and deftly tied them to her ankles. Then he opened the trunk of the Buick, lifted her up, and dropped her in. He closed the trunk, made a U-turn at the intersection, and disappeared into the sunlit afternoon. It was over in the time it takes a traffic light to change from red to green.

I don't know what's worse, that we have any relations at all with the House of Saud, or that a fair sized-minority of Americans would protest for peace were we to undertake to remove them militarily. The whole regime there practically demands to be bombed on general principles.

Postscript: Yes, I know who Chris Buckley is. Where do you think I go the title in the first place?

Posted by Bigwig at February 22, 2005 04:44 PM | TrackBack
Postscript:
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