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Yasser, I'll Write Your Letter
This past weekend Palestinian Chairman Yasser Arafat released
a statement condemning terrorism, after succumbing to a week of
pressure and severe beatings by U.S. Secretary of State Colin
Powell. It has been rumored that Arafat's first draft of the statement
did not meet editor Powell's lofty expectations, and was thrown
in copywriter Arafat's wastebasket. Fortunately LostBrain's staff
of investigators, Local 232 Gaza Strip Garbage and Utilities,
found that draft, and will now it publish for the world:
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My people,
Last week, I spent several horrifying days and nights locked
alone within a darkened broom closet, with nothing inside but
a cell phone, an Olin Mills photographer, news crews from CNN
and MSNBC, a stack of playboys and a gigantic jar of Vaseline.
It was, to be honest, absolute torture to clean up afterward.
 And
while I was locked inside, legions of Israeli tanks, soldiers,
warships and fire breathing dragons were on the outside, making
repeated attempts to break the lock to the closet door in hopes
of killing me, and with that, the hopes and dreams of our people.
Fortunately, thanks to the mercy and love of Allah, a chair was
carefully propped underneath the doorknob of the door, and I did
not become a martyr.
Though I curse Allah for not allowing me a box of Depends inside
that closet, I praise him for that life-saving chair. Because,
my people, in that darkened broom closet, as I paged through issue
after issue of Playboy, I had a revelation. Actually, it was more
of an orgasm at first, but it eventually turned into a revelation--one
so big that I had to use half a box of Kleenex to clean up. But
one so important, that I feel I must share it with all of you.
To start:
- During those frightful days and nights, as my life was threatened
and Olin Mills spent hours taking numerous portraits of Wolf
Blitzer and I, I began thinking about the past twenty years
of misery and suffering this war has brought our people. We
have dangled on the precipice of ruin. Thousands of your brothers
and sisters have died. We have seen a cultural reverse and a
rise of poverty and pestilence that from which Palestinians
may never recover, and we seem to be losing the battle with
Israel. Just last week, a new Israeli McDonalds opened up on
the West Bank, in direct competition with the Palestinian Church's
Chicken, just across the street. I fear it is only a matter
of time that the Church's Chicken goes into bankruptcy, and
plunges our people with it.
- But before you go out and blow up the McDonalds, I tell you
this: we must first attempt to seek peace with the restaurant,
as well as the Israeli government that put it there, supplying
them a refrigerator three times the size of the Church's Chicken.
Though I have tried negotiating with Israeli leaders for several
years now, repeated afternoon tea at Camp David has only led
to more war and more death, and very bad tea.
Attempts to attain peace by obtaining nuclear weapons have also
failed on numerous occasions. We found that we lacked the funds
to buy decent-grade bombs from willing countries. Russia, for
example, was willing to settle for a box of 1970s baseball cards
and half a bottle of Vodka that I found in my attic in exchange
for a gallon of plutonium, but later backed off when they discovered
that the cards were not in near-mint condition and the vodka
was paint thinner.
- So in the absence of peace, I have noticed that many Palestinians,
including women and children, have taken up what I can only
call an exciting new artistic trend: suicide bombing. These
people, outraged that they are losing a piece of property the
size of half of Des Moines, have taken to this bombing as an
poetic expression of their anger.
- While the work they have created is so beautiful and daring
that it has been critically acclaimed by both Art World
and Vanity Fair magazines, I must say this here and now,
with Allah and Colin Powell holding guns to my head: This form
of art must stop.
- I know what you're thinking: Palestinians have a right to
artistically express themselves as they see fit, and as promised
to them in the Koran. I understand your anger. It makes me mad
too. Makes me want to go out and make my own artistic expression
by bombing a jam-packed Israeli school bus. But I won't, because
I'm shackled to a chair.
- Nevertheless, I ask you to consider my rationale: if we continue
these artistic outbursts, soon there will be no artists left.
And without art, I ask you, what would Palestine be? That's
right, we'd be America. Not just America, but southern America,
in the Georgia--Alabama region. And do we really want to end
up like them?
- In conclusion, I must ask you to find other ways of expressing
yourself. For example, whatever happened to using the airplane
as your canvas, and Christine Amanpour as your paintbrush? Think
about all the artwork that was created during the First World
War with Mustard Gas—and yet it's been forgotten. It's
still toxic and easy to get your hands on. In fact, I've got
a few canisters in my living room right now, just collecting
dust.
In short, be creative with your artwork, and our conflict with
Israel will finally reach its peaceful conclusion. We are so close
to achieving the peace with Israel that we have been so close
to achieving for the past twenty years.
Hugs and Kisses,
Arafat
-Brandon
Stahl
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