Osama bin Laden was hiding in plain sight in Pakistan, in a mansion built for him by the Pakistani Intelligence Service, the ISI, about thirty miles north of the capital city of Islamabad, next to the Pakistan Military Academy, in a neighborhood populated by retired Pakistani military officers, this all the while the Pakistani government was vehemently denying they knew where he was, and were, moreover, actively looking for him. The question is, why now?  Why now have the Pakis given up a man they have hidden for so many years? Was there a quid pro quo? Did we finally make them an offer they couldn’t refuse? This story does not end with the death of Osama bin Laden.

Suggesting that the Paki

Are disloyal is so tacky

That it angers some to hear such claims be made

They have been our allies faithful

To deny it is disgraithful

And I’m here to see those lies to rest be laid

Yes they built for him a mansion

Ten foot walls and every stanchion

Built of concrete steel and bullet proofed to boot

They protected him and hid him

While the ISI did bid him

Do the dirty work while telling us that, shoot

They were looking for him also

Which we all knew well was false so

Just whose fault is it that he has lived this long

Yes good allies are the Paki

And bin Laden was their lackey

Why they turned him in will take another song

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In a daring raid, US Navy Seals killed Osama bin Laden and choppered his body to the carrier USS Carl Vinson, where he was slid into the sea. It is not known what the sea thought of this unpleasant intrusion, but I have an idea it was not pleased.

Shot and killed by Navy Seals

Wrapped in a clean white sheet

Set in the sea as blood congeals

An anchor at his feet

The sea, without a by your leave

Screamed it was not a dump

And with a mighty ocean heave

Spat up the noisesome lump

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A few years it was widely believed, by some, that we had reached the end of history, that from now on the world would be at peace and harmony would rule men’s lives. Those silly dreams were soon dashed, and the current uprisings in the Middle East are evidence that history is a never ending story.

It always is a mystery

Why the seeming end of history

Always comes apart so easy at the seams

As gunmen storm the palaces

And monks quick hide their chalices

As rebels try to realize their dreams

For history can never end

The past and present is a blend

Of what has gone before and what comes next

And those who think they know what will

Come tumbling over the next hill

Should be aware that no one knows the text

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