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JWR 2.31 - Smell It...

 

“One Month Later” as told by the Rock.

 

Finally, the Rock has come BACK to the Weekly Ramblings!

 

You know, since the Rock’s been gone, a lot of things have happened.  A lot of...bad things...have happened.  The Rock knows: the Rock watches CNN, MSNBC, C-SPAN, MTV, VH-1, Nick at Night.  The Rock saw what happened.  Not one or two or three, but four planes--FOUR PLANES...Hijacked.  Crashed into buildings.

 

The Rock has homes all over America.  The Rock calls Washington D.C. home.  The Rock calls New York, New York home.  The Rock calls Pennsylvania home.  These are the places where some of the millions...AND MILLIONS of the Rock’s fans live.  And the Rock knows damn well that some of the Rock’s fans are now...gone.  Blind sighted by cowards, NO! by back stabbers, NO! by rag head, chicken shit, momma’s boys.

 

Like the Rock said, the Rock watches the news.  The Rock has seen Osama Bin Laden.  Osama Bin Laden?  Tick tock.  Who in the blue hell are you?  Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoawhoawhoawhoa WHOA!  The Rock didn’t tell you to speak.  The Rock wouldn’t understand you anyway.

 

Now...the Rock will now ask you one question: Do you like pie?

 

You see, because the Rock likes...the pie; LOVES the pie.  The Rock could eat pie morning noon and night if the Rock were so inclined.  The Rock likes cherry pie.  The Rock likes apple pie.  The Rock likes...pumpkin pie.  But the Rock doesn’t like camel pie.

 

Tick tock.

 

The Rock knows that it must have been tough for you, Osama, growing up the way you did.  Child of a wealthy father worth...billions.  Ten brothers and sisters.  The Rock bets that at the dinner table, you were probably pushed aside by your older siblings.  So you went to your mommy.  You said to your mommy: “Mommy, why do all my brothers and sisters push me aside at dinner so by the time I get there, all that’s left is the left goat testicle?”

 

And your mother looked at you...through the veil.  You could just barely make out the shape of her eyes.  She placed her covered hand on your shoulder and said, “Usami...”

 

“But my name’s Osama--”

 

“IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOUR NAME IS!”

 

Osama Bin Laden, you want to wage war on America, the Rock’s land?  Land of the free.  Home of the brave.  Tick tock.  You say there will be no peace in America until there is peace in the Middle East.  Well...the Rock doesn’t know too much about all that.

 

Would you lie to know what the Rock knows?  Shall the Rock enlighten you as to what the Rock knows?  Well, the Rock was on the FBI’s web site last night.  Surfing.  The Rock looked at the twenty-two biggest piles of steamy, stinky monkey crap on the face of God’s green Earth known as the twenty-two most wanted terrorists.  The Rock looked at your profile.  Age: “doesn’t matter.”  Height: “doesn’t matter.”  Weight: “the largest pile of camel dung this side of the International Date Line.”  The Rock did read one interesting fact.  The Rock read that you walk with a cane.  Well, the Rock has a piece of advice for you.  Take that cane...and shine it up real nice...Keep shining it.  Let’s make that cane sparkle.  I want you to be able to see yourself so you can comb that beard of yours.  Don’t stop shining it.   There.  Now it’s positively sparkling, bright at the North star.  Hold up the cane so it’s at eye level.  Now...turn that sumbitch sideways and stick it STRAIGHT UP YOUR CANDY ASS!

 

The Rock is glad, absolutely numb with GLEE that you want to wage your “jihad” on America.  Because the Rock knows some good ole boys that the Rock likes to call...The United States Marine Corps.  For you see, Osama Bin Laden, these soldiers, these in whom the Rock and his millions AND MILLIONS of fans have placed their trust have nothing...AND THE ROCK MEANS NOTHING better to do that to come into your home town and lay the smack down on your candy ass.  Oh, but the line does not end there.  Let the Rock rail off just a few more groups that are ready, NO! willing, NO! abso-damn-lutely ready, willing, able and aaaaaaaaaanxious to get their hands of you and yours: the U.S. Navy, the U.S. Army, the U.S. Air Force, the Canadian army, the British military, the Australian armed forces, the Germans, the Spanish, the Mexicans, the Burkina Fasoians who click when they talk, the Italian with the glass eye and Uncle Jimmy Jack Jericho with the limp whose cane you stole.

 

There is nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.  Tick tock.  Tick tock.  Osama Bin Laden, your days of running a multi-national terrorist organization and spewing hate...are over.

 

If you smell what the Rock is cookin’.

 

John

 

Copyright © 2001 John Lemut