There's a new dicktater in Afghanistan

Dateline: Asad Khyl

In a surprising upset in local politics, a former American Special Forces Soldier turned War Correspondent and Photographer, recently declared himself a Canadian and then, in an even more shocking turn of events, installed himself as the "Military Dictaor for life, or until my paypal runs out" in the villiage of Tarok Kolache, Afghanistan. Local Tribesmen are very suportive of Yon, who plans to rule through the use of extreme insults and by banning everyone who slightly disagrees with him, as well as through character assassinations and threats to tell everyone's boss if they don't apologize.

At the first press conference held in the new Presidential Palace--a recently converted Brothel and goat-feed store--the Glorius New Leader of all things, as Yon's acolytes call him--decreed that for the time being, he was suspending all US military activity in his lands. He would allow the ISAF forces to continue operations only after they have agreed to his many demands, which include the immediate dismissal of all Public Affairs Officers, the rewriting of embed policy to include him in all military decision making processes, and the immediate erradication of all spiders in Afghanistan. "What people are missing here, the really big enemy," said Yon, "is that the most dangerous threat to freedom isn't the Taliban. The real threat to freedom is the spiders. They too, live in caves, and hide where they cannot be seen."

Yon has made other sweeping changes in his new country, some of which include:

• renaming all of the months of the year after himself, except for February, which is now known as "I hate Jimbo" month


• giving himself the title of "His Most Righteous and Sheikh Excellent Professor Doctor" (HMR&SPED )


• requiring all muslims to do the "hokey pokey" five times a day, facing in the direction of GEN Stanley McChrystal's house in the USA


• sending ministry teams into Utah to preach his new brand of religion, dubbed Yonego, to the Mormons


• building a moat completely around his capital city, which will be filled with coconut pudding


• "Boneshakers," safety bicycles, and any other similar machines are banned from the center of town


• it is now illegal to kill, injure, taunt, or otherwise harm a Yeti, or any other animal whose name begins with the letter "Y," except spiders


• 'Y' is now the first and last letter in the alphabetall turtles will be immediately deportedsex with rodeo clowns in the presence of horses is now illegal

HMR&SPED Yon also has new plans to boost the economy of his cash-strapped feifdom: He will immediately begin prospecting for fossils and Ferrous Oxide in this rugged country, as he expects there to be a major boom in these tiny markets in the years to come. He also has plans to buy as many vehicles as he can find, ship them to America and sell them to the US government under the "cash for clunkers" program. In order to encourage the people of his new country to work harder, he has ordered all internet service providers to block all web pages, and only display his "Public Figure" facebook page when someone tries to use social media.

Local Response: When asked what he thought about his new leader, Ahmad Rasshad Soretoro, the owner of the Presidential Palace, said "What could it hurt? We haven't had an effectve government in Afghanistan since... well, ever, actually. For certain, He does tend to go a bit nanners from time to time, and no one knows exactly what he is doing with all those goats and boys during his mentoring sessions, but why not try Yon? What is the worst thing that could happen?"

Aman Bin Fartin, the local taliban chieftan and owner of "falafel on wheels," said that it was good that there was now someone they could point to as the reason their policy of "kill everyone who disagrees with us" was not as effective as the US claims, and also that it would provide a nice distraction to pay attention to local politics after a long day of digging IED holes, stoning women, and buying new lingerie for his goats.

A lotta knots

For the ladies....

The winds are gusting here. Maybe 35 knots sometimes. That's a lot of knots. If I've done the math in my head correctly, it's about 402 mph, give or take. I know it sounds crazy, but in the military we measure winds and temperature and moon illumination in knots. My Hello Kitty sleeping bag blew away but I found it and secured it with four bayonets, a roll of duct tape and a few knots of the old 550 cord.

I've noticed I've got several readers of the female persuasion. While most of my writing is of the virile, manly variety, this special post is dedicated to you. (And yes, especially you, my knotty little special one. You know who you are.)

But in addition to being manic fans of moi, it seems more than a few of you fawning femininities appreciate other types of literature, too. And one of the Yawnettes sacrificed a bit of sleep last night (which on? A true gentleman never tells... and I will NEVER BETRAYUS) to prepare this veritable feast for all our eyes.



"When I read the writings you write I feel as though I was reading a romance novel co-authored by Hunter S Thompson and Louis L'amour," she wrote to me in the email she emailed to me that I just read. But reading and writing and typing and emailing are two very different things, like love and lust and hate (MCSPIDERS!), or my stuff and that crap you get from the lamestream media or traditional bloggers.

I don't fully understand it, but I like the pictures (and I suspect you like it, too). If they bring even half the pleasure to you that it does to me than I dare say you will be satisfied...

Or perhaps unsatisfied. Believe you me, I understand that feeling, alone here because of McChrystal on the windswept plains of a foreign and savage land, the golden moon - that cold-hearted orb that rules the night - the sole witness to my solitude... out in the wild, so distant in space and time from the heat of your lips and the warmth of your passionate embrace...

Then, as the warm breeze ripples the walls of my Power Rangers Pup Tent, soft music lulls me towards slumber...



"How do you resist the temptation, my mighty warrior monk?" You might ask, in a throaty whisper... In truth it isn't easy - in fact it's often unbelievably hard - and even the mightiest of stout oaks bends to the stiff breeze from time to time.



But I remember what my grandpa said about hard things, and though it takes more effort than I think I can bear, I remind myself of this lesson, imparted to me by a ninja master so very long ago...



And to sleep I go, perchance to dream, my fist wrapped firm but gently 'round my 9 while my bandanna hangs drying close at hand.

Thailand can wait. There are stories to live, and some to tell, and new names to add to my shit list. That is my burden, the load I carry. I don't have to prove anything to anyone.

Don't forget to hit my tip jar.