New Osama bin Laden Video Shooting Up Charts

he latest video from self-styled "gangsta wrapped in a bedsheet" Osama bin Laden appears to be the most successful offering yet from his recent album. Produced and directed by Mullah Omar tha Hit Maker, from 2001's "Ol' Dirty bin Laden in da Hizzouse," the video, "Don'tcha Fuck wit Ma Allah," is the third single to chart. It is now in heavy rotation on VH1, has been shown many times on that network's popular Pop Up Video program, and is number one with a bullet on Al Jazeera's afternoon show, Fundamentalist Dance Party. It is also rumored that a twenty-second clip of the video was aired on MTV at approximately 4 AM Tuesday of last week, but those rumors could not be confirmed at the time we went to press.

Following on the heels of the first two singles from "...in da Hizzouse," this latest single promises to make it his most successful album ever, and could garner him a nomination for Comeback Artist of the Year.

Not many people would have predicted that when the first video from the album was released. "Wha' da 911?" suffered from poor production values, and many critics thought it ran overlong, causing viewers to quickly lose interest in the muddy sound mix. The second video, "I Ain't Dead Yet, Bitch," showed more promise, but topped out at number 37 on the charts and disappeared after just a few short weeks. "Don'tcha Fuck wit Ma Allah" appears to have staying power the first two singles lacked.

There are some dissenting voices, however. On the East Coast, especially, a few insiders who preferred to remain anonymous commented that "his shit is dead, man, it ain't fresh." In response, noted Marin County, California, critic John Walker Lindh was quoted as saying "That Al Qaeda beat is funky stupid, dawg, and Osama is Playa Numbah One. It's phat, it's phresh, it's... uh... it's phluffy. You can totally dance to it."

This album marks only the second release for bin Laden since his move to Al Qaeda Mob Records. The first effort, 1993's "Truck Bombin' NYC," failed to generate much critical acclaim, and dropped out of sight soon after its release due to poor sales. Prior to that, it had been a number of years since any product had been put out at all. In the late '80s and early '90s, bin Laden collaborated with former U.S. president George H. W. Bush (the one that was actually elected) in a series of forgettable albums for the now-troubled label CIA Assassin Records and Wiretaps. Their most notable release was titled "Tha Enemy of Ma Muthafuckin' Enemy," and prominently featured Bush, performing under the name Pukeface Killah GH-Dub, with his minor hit, "Nitty Ditty Gritty Big Bird." Bin Laden's contribution to that song was the turntable-scratching and chanted background chorus, "Yo, muthafuckah, yo muthafuckah, yo muthafucka, yo." The only other song from that mix to chart at all was a cover of Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina."

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Like many children, I was once a young boy. And as a lad, before I could even speak the language, I held a precious dream in my heart like a butterfly. A butterfly that wiggled and squirmed and eventually burst from my chest like an alien, but this one left behind no gaping bloody hole, at least none that was visible. For like many children, I had dreams of one day growing up and capturing a mythical beast to prove it existed.

My father would tell me, "Set more realistic goals for yourself, Mr. Bagel." Although now that I think about it, that doesn't sound like something my father would say at all, and there is the distinct trace of an accent when I hear it my mind, so it may have been a butler I had or an English tourist. But someone said it, and I would grow disheartened, before I remembered that only I could let the butterfly rip through my chest and leave myself bleeding to death on the floor.

During my teen-age years, my "Reckless Red" days, I let go of that dream and sunk into the hopeless despair only fit for songs by The Smiths. It's in the nature of a teen-ager to turn cynical, like the very butterfly I earlier metaphored sprouting its wings as part of its growth. However, I tricked fate, and as I got older I grew far more immature than even I could have imagined. I resumed my dreams, and it was like I had never stopped believing I could lasso the Loch Ness Monster or trap Bigfoot in a box with a carrot as bait. Of course, doing either one of those would have been silly. But last year, while the commune took that long sabbatical I didn't really know about, I took to New Orleans to pursue my dream. And the world's biggest butterfly.

I speak of none other than the Baton Rouge Butterfly, one of the most famous local legends of all time. Though no one in New Orleans or Baton Rouge had ever heard of it, so don't bother asking any of them. This local legend about Louisiana is only famous in part of New Jersey and, I understand, some areas in Europe. I uncovered a book on it at a yard sale, only partially colored by the previous owner, that sparked my childhood interest in the legend and I assembled my mythic creature-hunting team of old with renewed vigor.

Loading my equipment into my customized Hummer XXL, a vehicle unfit for travel on earth roads, I traveled south to that beloved region with my loyal manservant Rascal and my faithful friend of many years, Sully. It seems like only yesterday the news just wouldn't shut up about Hurricane Katrina, yet when we reached these battered shores the whole region appeared to be in the midst of wonderful reconstruction. I'm sure the several buildings my Hummer XXL knocked over or crushed were helpful losses to paving over the city of old, they didn't look very new at all. We researched the existence of the Baton Rouge Butterfly in New Orleans, since I was much more familiar with that city and its many fine houses for gentleman tourists, but I have to admit we knew a lot more about the legend than any of them did. They mocked our faith in the unproven and a few of them made fun of my fine white suit. But were we dissuaded? Sully was, and he napped in the passenger seat for most of the trip. I was not, and nor was Rascal,as I pay him handsomely.

We surveyed the entire city of Baton Rouge and its surrounding areas, the world's largest moth net in tow. Did we find the creature of my youthful dreams? No. Did we discover even minimal proof of its existence? That's difficult to say, but everybody says no. Let's change that question however: Did we chase a dream and discover something even bigger than ourselves in the process? No. However, I think I can dare to say we displayed uncommon faith in the unseen and changed the hearts of the people of Louisiana, even helping the rebirth of the cities damaged by the hurricane. They would also say this is a big negative, too, but they can shut-up and stop pissing on my dreams.

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Hello, communes. Boris is this. Coming on you with big news of year: Big bee is dead. Yes, is so!

Every person remember big bee, is bee thing from Boris child's hood what always give Boris time so hard. Whenever Boris is does go outsides to play with made-up friends, there is big bee waiting to chase Boris away, like Benny's Hill show except without music. Boris has to hum music for himself when does run away from big bee. Sometimes Boris does think maybe bee does hate this music and that why chase Boris, but probably bee is just asshole.

All through life big bee does follow Boris. At home, on way to school, even on inside of classroom where Boris does is in trouble for bringing pet bee to school. Boris is kick out of schools so many time because big bee will not leave alone. Teacher say is so because mother does to wash Boris hair with honey, but this teacher's excuse for all things, like why all neighbor's hood dogs does follow Boris to lick head, and why come all flies does stick to Boris in summer's time.

Even when adult person, Boris can't not get job thing because no persons does want to hire Boris who is always running from bee and waving of arms. So, Boris does come to Americas. Does big bee follow? Yes. Stick with shit.

Big bee does have hard time to keep up with Boris on roading adventure with Angels from Hell and big fast bust, but eventually does find Potato Boris even though is secret identity. Bee is not fooled. Big bee even does follow Boris to New Olean. Coming back home to Louis apartment, Boris is thinking big bee get lost or maybe decide on follow person who does smell more like honey than Boris. But other day come huge surprise for Boris who does believe this idea.

Boris is sleeping sounds on Louis couch as outside is raining cats and water. Yes, yes, Boris is suppose to sleep in closet room, but after Louis is sleep, Boris does like to sneak out to couch so not to suffocate with sleeping Boris farts. And is all good and fun, but then Boris wake up to drip on head, like pee from God. Window is leak on Boris! Boris is mad, because before this Boris does like window. So, Boris have to pull out couch thing aways from window to sleep not in rain. This hard work, until Boris think to get off couch before moving. Then? Like lifting huge feather. No problemo, like say Louis friend speaking Spanishs.

But when Boris pull out couch, what is underbeneath? You can't not know this, so Boris will tell: big bee! Yes! First Boris is very scare and does poop so hard, but then Boris see big bee is sleeping. Boris does get napking blanket for big bee, but when putting on, does see big bee very dusty like rust bunny under couch. "Holy Moley!" Boris does think in Spanishs. Big bee is dead!

Is true, so dead like Jiminey Crickets. Boris does make special coffin thing from box for matches and sings special funeral song ("Fly Like Eagles into Furniture") before does flush bee down toilets to go to afterworld. And like that, Boris is free.

Is lonely to be free. Boris hoping to find moth or ladybug wants to follow Boris at all times. Is so too much work to tie with strings.

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