God Unwilling

The recent film United 93 tells how the action might have unfolded aboard that one 9/11 flight that failed to reach its target. Any American will have the same reaction to this story—it is a mixture of horror, sadness and patriotism. In the movie, and in other accounts of Jihad, we see that the terrorists frequently utter the phrase “God willing” or something equivalent:

“I have not killed, but God willing, I soon will.”

“Allah willing, the streets of America will run red with blood.”

“Praise be to God, I have completed 25 operations up to now. God willing, more are to come.”

So here’s what I’m wondering: How do the terrorists rationalize the fact that United 93 did not reach its intended target? Do they believe that, indeed, God was not willing in this example? Evidently, God was willing to let the World Trade Center and Pentagon be hit...but for some reason, God was unwilling to let the White House be destroyed. Does this give them pause? Why would the Almighty give the thumbs-up on only the first three sites, but not the fourth? I know my answer to this question. But how do the terrorists answer?

Why I'm Great

Just as the cost of living continues to increase, the power of certain words inevitably diminishes. One such word is awesome. You used to be able to convey something uniquely grand with it; now it is reduced to being a slang word reserved for one's rating of a grilled cheese sandwich. Another such word is great. No longer does it mean what it once did, as exemplified by this oft-heard figure of speech:

"If you could ________, that would be great."

In these kinds of ordinary requests, it is insufficient to simply say, "May we have some more mustard?" or "Could you take another look at my radiator fluid?" No, when it comes to getting what we want, we now resort to unnecessarily obsequious bribery, as if adding a second roll of stamps to our order will be in the same league as discovering the cure for lupus. "Really?" I want to exclaim. "It would be great if I got you a new fork? Wow! I always thought my meager fetching and carrying were just routine tasks. And now I know I'm great! Maybe I can be president someday!"

Judging by how fast our language changes, it is only a matter of time before we begin to hear the following:

"If you could email me the recipe, that would be worthy of a Pulitzer."

"If you would grab us some napkins, I believe humans of whatever gender you are attracted to will strip themselves naked and beg you to have sex with them."

"Stop fantasizing about single-handedly locating the whereabouts of Osama Bin Laden. If you could make sure we have fresh towels, your act will impress me far beyond the act of bringing down the world's most notorious convict."

Goofy Sex

Everybody knows who Donald Duck is, and by extension, his nephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie. I am not sure whether Donald is technically married to Daisy Duck, at least within the confines of the fictional Disney universe, nor am I sure how these ducklings are technically related (are they his sister's kids? Brother's?). I suppose it does not matter much, but what does matter to me is who sired Max, the dog I have been assured is Goofy's son. I am unaware of any female counterpart for Goofy. And I just can't picture Goofy humping another dog. Or maybe I just don't want to. And yet, the identity of Max's mother continues to elude me, much like viable topics for this blog.