We seem to be having a problem with the comments. Not what you’re saying, but with some comments being accepted. We don’t really know how many are being impacted. And I’d explain all that if you want, but after I do, you’d say “I don’t care, just fix it.” So, we’re skipping all the 27 reasons why. For now, if you are having trouble commenting — not thinking of something to say, but the Website accepting your comments — let me know. Leave a comment on this post and I’ll …

Wait. That won’t work. Heck, now I gotta set up a new email address for this stuff (I’m not giving you my email address). Hang on. Be right back.

* * *

Okay, I’m back. If you have trouble with posting comments, let me know, and I’ll see what I can figure out.

This is on the level. We don’t want to keep any of you from sharing your thoughts here, so do let me know. If you have a problem posting a comment, send a notice to basil.imao@gmail.com and I’ll look into it.

(Music is playing as the scene pans over a cardboard replica of Tehran)

Mr. Ahmedinejad: (opens the door and enters holding a long yellow box, singing and swapping his suit coat and dress shoes for a sweater and sneakers)

It’s a beautiful day for a martyrdom,

A beautiful day for a jihad.

Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?…

It’s a jihadi day in this beauty wood,

A jihadi day for a beauty.

Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?…

I have always wanted to have a martyr just like you.

I’ve always wanted to live in a caliphate with you.

So, let’s make the most of this beautiful day.

Since we’re together we might as well say:

Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?

Won’t you be my martyr?

Won’t you please,

Won’t you please?

Please won’t you be my martyr?

Mr. Ahmedinejad: Hi neighbor. Glad we could be together again. Can you imagine what might be in this box? I’ll give you a hint. He works in the Speedy IED Delivery service. (opens box and removes a doll dressed like a mujahideen) Of course it’s not the real Mr. McJihadi, but it’s a doll that looks like him. See his scraggly beard and suicide vest and AK-47. His ‘Speedy IED Delivery’ cap. One of my neighbors likes to use her imagination and her hands to make dolls to rain death upon the enemies of Allah. She made this one for Mr. McJihadi, and he loaned it to me. Can you use your imagination and think of ways this doll could be used to rain death upon the Jews? That’s right. You could put a bomb in it. Or anthrax. Or depleted uranium. Or fill it with acid and hang it from a tree at that girls’ school down the street and leave a piñata whacking stick by it. That would teach those little girls not to whack a piñata like a boy or to be educated. There are lots of things you can do with your hands and a little imagination.

Let’s look at the magic Picture Picture. Can you do these things with your hands?

(Picture Picture depicts people wiring bombs, trying on suicide vests, firing RPGs, stoning rape victims, hanging homosexuals, beheading hostages, lighting pilots on fire)

Mr. Ahmedinejad: Wasn’t that interesting, neighbor. There are so many things you can do with your hands. Next week I would like you to steal your big sister’s cellphone and I will show you how to use it as a detonator.

Oh, what’s that neigbor? Do you hear the trolley coming? Nope, I don’t either. That’s because the IDF blew up your beloved trolley with drones. Isn’t that sad, neighbor? They claimed Hamas was hiding weapons on the trolley. But that was a lie. There were no weapons on the trolley. Thanks to Hillary Clinton’s insecure e-mail server, Hamas was able to hear about the attack in advance and move the weapons from the trolley to the maternity ward at OBL General Hospital. So don’t worry, neighbor. Our weapons are safe and the lucky martyrs on the trolley are enjoying a big roll in the hay in paradise. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to go to paradise?

But speaking of Hillary Clinton, is there a lesson we can learn from her, neighbor? That’s right. She is an example of what the Quran teaches us about women. They should always wear a burka, they shouldn’t be put in charge and their testimony can’t be trusted.

But with the trolley destroyed, we will have to walk to the Land of Conspiracy Theory. Follow me along the tracks, neighbor, and keep an eye out for King Bibi’s dreaded golem.

(scene changes to the Land of Conspiracy Theory. Martyr-Artyr is kneeling over Daniel Tiger of Allah who is lying in a ditch)

Martyr-Artyr: Oh my Allah! Are you alright? What happened to you Daniel Tiger of Allah?

Daniel Tiger of Allah (speaking weakly): Martyr-Artyr? Is that you? Praise Allah you have come.

Martyr-Artyr: Please, you must tell me what happened? Who did this to you?

Daniel Tiger of Allah: It was King Bibi. He took my kidneys again. And some of my blood. I think the blood is for his Passover matzo ball soup.

Martry-Artyr: Quick. I must get you to Lady Elaine so she can heal you with her Boomerang-Toomerang-Soomerang.

Daniel Tiger of Allah: It is too late, Allah curse King Bibi. Lady Elaine tried to heal me, but King Bibi stole her magic boomerang and burned her for being a witch.

Martyr-Artyr: No, there must be a way.

Daniel Tiger of Allah (looking off in the distance): Why, yes, I would like another date. What? You say there are seventy-one more just like you waiting for me over by that oasis……(death rattle)

(Martyr-Artyr keens and then hears sobbing nearby and he goes toward it to find Donkey Hodie curled up on the ground in the fetal position)

Donkey Hodie: Just go away and leave me alone.

Martyr-Artyr: It was King Bibi again, wasn’t it?

Donkey Hodie: Just go away.

Martyr-Artyr: It okay. You aren’t a woman. I won’t stone you if you tell me what happened.

Donkey Hodie: King Bibi gave me some brownies. I think there was something in them that made me a homosexual. It was all a blur. I can hardly remember anything. My loins were aflame. But I don’t love him. I don’t even find him attractive. I don’t love him. Oh, what did he do to me?  Who will have me now? (weeping)

Martry-Artyr: Why did you tell me you were gay?

Donkey Hodie: No.  I’m not.  It was just the brownies.  I got better.

Martyr-Artyr: It is no matter.  I was wrong about that woman thing I said.  Turns out I must stone you after all for being gay.  My bad.

Donkey Hodie: No!  Please!

Martyr-Artyr (after he is done stoning): But that is the straw that breaks the back of my camel. I am sorry my friend.  I will avenge you Donkey Hodie. It is time to put an end to that tyrant. Come everybody! To Castle Israel!

(All the inhabitants of the Land of Conspiracy Theory raze the castle to the ground, hang King Bibi from a tree and set him ablaze as he screams pleasingly)

(Scene changes back to Mr. Ahmedinejad’s living room)

Mr. Ahmedinejad: I just want to make it clear, neighbor, that we didn’t burn the real Bibi. Not yet. That monster and his pig-dog minions are still out there waiting to get you. Unless you can find a way to stop them.  That is all the time we have today, but we will be together next time, unless, of course, you have become a good little martyr. That would give me a really good feeling.

(singing)

It’s a good feeling

Such a happy feeling

It’s such a good feeling to know you’re not alive.

It’s such a happy feeling

You’re exploding outside.

And when you wake up ready to say

I think I’ll make a bloody new day

It’s such a good feeling,

A very good feeling,

The feeling you know that you’re my martyr.

It’s a good feeling

It’s a happy feeling

It’s such a good feeling

To know you’ve found doom.

It’s such a happy feeling to find that you’ve gone kaboom

And when you wake up ready to say

I think I’ll make a bloody new day.

It’s such a good feeling,

A very good feeling,

The feeling you know that you’re my martyr.

And I’ll be back

When the day is new

And I’ll have more ideas for you.

And you’ll have things you’ll want to blow up too.

I will too.

*knock* *knock* *knock*

Who is it?

It’s me, Harvey, open up, man, I got a post to write.

…

*knock* *knock* *knock*

Who is it?

It’s me, Harvey, man, open up, I got to write a post.

Who?

It’s Harvey, man, open up, I think the Frank saw me comin’ in late.

…

*knock* *knock* *knock*

Who is it?

It’s, it’s Harvey, man, will you open up? I got a post to write.

Who?

Harvey, man, open up.

Harvey?

Yeah, Harvey, c’mon, man, open up, I’m late and I think the Frank saw me.

Harvey’s not here.

No, man, I’m Harvey, man. Hey, c’mon, man.

…

*knock* *knock* *knock*

Who is it?

It’s Harvey, man, will you open up? I got to post something.

Who?

It’s Harvey, man, open up

Harvey?

Yeah, Harvey.

Harvey’s not here.

No, man, I am Harvey, man, will you…
*knock* *knock* *knock*
C’mon, open up the door, will you? I got stuff to write, and I think Frank saw me.

Who is it?

Oh, what the heck you — C’mon open up the door, it’s Harvey.

Who?

Harvey, H-A-R-V-E-Y! will you open up the door?!

Harvey?

Yeah, Harvey.

Harvey?

Right, man, Harvey, now will you open up the door?

Harvey’s not here.

Original script by Richard Marin and Thomas Chong.