I‘ve been thinking about Moammar Gadhafi today. That’s quite the video. I just hope that when they’re dragging my bullet-riddled body through the dirt, somebody has something better than a freaking cell-phone camera to record the moment. Yeah, Gadhafi may have had it coming, but I believe that idiot with the cell phone should also be shot.
Once again, people: If you’re going to shoot video with your stinking phone, at least try to HOLD THE DAMNED THING STEADY. Swinging it around like a set of car keys is more than annoying and makes Gadhafi look like Thomas Aquinas in comparison to you, a shrieking spastic, and your shrieking spastic buddies who are wasting ammo and endangering others with celebratory gunfire.
Not to be all misty-eyed, but a scene like this makes me glad to be an American. Here, when we get rid of shitty leaders we just chant clever slogans as they fly off in nicely appointed helicopters to work on their autobiographies. We also have somebody in the crowd who has a rudimentary understanding of the difference between a still picture and a three-minute video.
By the way, if you click that link to the video, be warned that it’s graphic. Right. Almost as graphic as a prime-time promo for CSI: Omaha. The most disturbing thing about it is realizing that Gadhafi never got around to shaving off that ridiculous mustache.
Talk about regrets. You wake up one morning never dreaming this is the last time you’ll pull on your gold-colored pants. Forty-odd years running a godforsaken sandbox full of people who want you dead, you feel like you can hang on for a few more. But time rushes on. You either go the easy way, like Idi Amin, or the hard way, like Nicolai Ceausescu. And if you wait too long, you don’t get to choose. Because the spaz with the cell phone is waiting too.