This one will run and run. And run.

Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi, senior Al Qaeda operative, has kindly communicated with us via a guest blog at Iowahawk to decribe what happens when his new room-mate arrives in Paradise (RUDE WORD ALERT ADVISORY):

Yo brosephus, what’s crackalackin’ with the booty smackin’? Longtime no fatwa. Like what’s it been, 5 years? Yeah, I know, I got a whole inbox full of emails from you infidel fags all like, "yo Zark, holla at a playa, how’s that paradise shit workin’ out witchu?"

And by the way, you can stop sending me them stupid LOLgoat pictures, I seen ’em all. Listen chump, Zarkman ain’t got time for your internet jibber jabber, or twitter twatter, or whatever that latest earth shit is.  And stop asking me to friend you up on FagBook to play MafiaWars or Cowville and all that gayass computer shit. Yo cuzz, Zarkman gots bigger problems…

I guess you could say this paradise shit has not really lived up to expectations. The worst thing is the stankass overcrowding. You’d think shitty word of mouth might slow down business, but every day there’s a new dump truck full of fresh shaheeds showing up, courtesy the Great Satan’s crusader travel agents. It’s the entertainment high point of my day, watching all them headshot horny dumbass noobs asking for their free cooch, right before the resort counselors march them to the flaming cesspit for their orientation session. And that’s another thing. Come on Allah – flaming cesspits in paradise? Srsly?

With Iowahawk it’s not merely the unerring precision and cleverness of the language and ideas, unerring and precise as they are. It’s the outlandish wild leaps of imagination which link all that and more to high policy issues and the latest news.

With devastating effect:

… I look up at the new roomie and he’s kind of mumbling quietly. Maybe because half his face was shot off. Big tall muthafucker with a ZZ-Top beard full of seawead and shit, and a swordfish spike through his head. So I’m like, "what you looking at, no-face?" and laid him out with another dick punch.

Good grief.

I’d almost be able to take this martyrdom angelhood shit if it wasn’t for Mumbles, who is driving me nuts with his stupid faceless crying and stupid escape plans. I keep telling the stupid douchebag, it’s a waste of time trying to run from Team Satan.

Like they said in another infidel movie: ever time a SEAL rings, an angel brain will sting.

Read the whole thing.

But only after taking out a new life insurance policy in case you explode from laughing, and/or crying