My first thought when the ringing phone woke me last night was, “Why the hell am I dreaming about fighting hand-to-hand combat with a horse? Why won’t he just let me ride him?” (Too much Game of Thrones maybe.)
Then, seeing the time and a few text messages all saying, more or less, “Are you seeing the news?” I thought immediately we were under attack. As my friend Corey said, I slept through 9/11, so it would be fitting.
Of the sixteen million possibilities that went through my head before turning on the TV, Osama bin Laden was not a consideration. Indeed, he’d become all but irrelevant–and I think that will become readily apparent in the upcoming days.
So, TV on, Osama bin Laden is dead. Other thoughts.
Hmmm. Attobad is not a small, frontier village near the border with Afghanistan. It’s closer to Islamabad.
Did Barack Obama know this while he was making jokes about Donald Trump at the White House Correspondent’s Dinner? Awesome, though I don’t know how I would have been able to keep my mouth shut in that situation.
How many of these people in D.C. acting like it’s a Super Bowl party are also the type who profess to be horrified when Palestinians do the same thing?
Why is it that Wolf Blitzer, no matter the situation, manages at some point to make himself sound like an asshole? (Last night, he all but shook his head at the guy on the ground outside the White House and gave him instruction on how to use a microphone.)
How long before someone mixes “I Had a Bad Day” with “I Attobad Day”?
How much sleep will I lose watching this foolishness on a Sunday night? (Answer: five minutes. Back to bed. And, thankfully, no more dreams about horse wrestling.)