hey're young. They're dangerous. They're filled with hate for all Western culture and the influence it's had on Islamic countries. No, they're not Al-Qaeda; they're Algerian, and they're tired of being compared to Osama bin Laden's terrorist units.

If you haven't heard of these Algerian up-and-coming homeland security risks, it's not surprising. They've only recently made any news at all, and it took a far backseat to growing concerns about Iraq and North Korea, as well as troubling domestic issues like the economy and Joe Millionaire. They're relegated to the back page of the World news right now, and they're not happy about it.

"It's just like Americans to ignore you as a threat if you haven't set off a bomb in their country or anything," said one leader of the as-yet-unnamed group, who refused to be identified by name but used the alias, "Stonewall." "It won't be that way forever. One of these days our name will be bigger than Al-Qaeda—as soon as we agree on one. People will ask, 'Al-Qaeda who? Were they anything like…' well, then they'll say the name of our group, when we have one."

It's a strong feeling throughout the group, as well as other aspiring Islamic extremist terrorists out there: Al-Qaeda has become the Elvis Presley of anti-Western guerrillas, and it's a double-edged sword.

"On one hand," said one youth, known as "Itchy," "people are finally taking terrorists serious again, for the first time since those Iranian hostages in the 70s. But now the bar is set so high nobody can compete with them. A lot of us don't have the kind of funds and numbers needed to destroy an American landmark or symbol of Western wealth. We're the independent terrorists, the ones doing it for the real love of Allah, and we have the better arguments, the better fatwas, and when we die for the glory of Allah's cause we're receiving the most rewards. But that doesn't matter much if you're operating out of basements and searching couch cushions for money to finance your terrorist camps."

One of the reasons the Algerians agreed to meet and discuss their situation was to raise awareness of smaller garage terrorist units. The press has not been kind—even when they cover their actions, like the recent news story in Britain where a group was arrested for possession of Ricin and killed a British police officer, the reaction of the American media is cynical and smug. Newsweek referred to the incident on page 48 with the headline, "Al-Qaeda Hacks Kill Just One in Manchester."

"It's completely unfair," said a thin, wiry terrorist nicknamed "Atwall." "Ricin is pretty dangerous, you know. Had that plan been carried out by our brothers, there's no telling the kind of damage it could have done, throughout Britain and America. Well, not America—that overseas postage would have killed our budget. But still, all the major networks are scoffing, like, 'Why couldn't they get Anthrax?' That stuff's expensive, infidels. We don't have Saudi oil money behind us. Most of our funds come from the donation jars we set up in Algerian supermarkets. That and loans from our parents, which are due back in a couple of years, when we start showing a profit."

"It's true," added Stonewall. "You kill one person these days in the name of Allah and you can't even get on the third page of a major news magazine. You have to be like in double-digits to get that kind of coverage. Let's not even talk about making the cover. We're optimistic, but we know it's a long way off. First we have to get a good name."

According to the group, several suggested names have failed to please a majority of the group. Suggestions currently on the table are "The Red Flag," "The Al-Roka," and "Grassy Knoll," which the group likes, but feel like it would take too much explaining and limit how much they make major newscasts.

istory in space exploration was made as the first Israeli astronaut was launched into space Thursday, aboard the U.S. space shuttle Columbia. The astronaut, Israel air force pilot Ilan Ramon, said that it was his country's hope to investigate colonizing outer space Arabic settlements.

"It has been a wonderful step forward for Israel, and for the future of space colonization as well," said Israeli Ambassador Malcolm Lentin. "Problems of overcrowding and dwindling resources may soon be a thing of the past. This mission is the first step toward colonizing Arabic settlements everywhere, including outer space, but also other distant Arabic states on Mars and elsewhere."

The launch took place under extremely high security, as have all shuttle launches since Sept. 11^th. The presence of Ramon, though, drew greater attention to possible terrorist attacks by Al-Qaeda and anti-Israeli groups. The launch took place without incident, not even a firecracker of any sort, which made it just as boring as all other launches in recent history.

As of press time, there was no evidence of Arabic settlements in outer space or anywhere outside of earth, but Israel said they would seek out any possible Arabic locales as part of their pre-colonization mission. Although the colonization of Arabic-controlled areas would be preferable, Israel said they would consider the colonization of areas dominated by other sects including Buddhists, Sikhs, Hindus, Christians, Scientologists, and Raellians. The possibility of uninhabited spots ripe for colonization hadn't been considered.

"Empty? Sure. We could do that," said Lentin. "I don't see where the challenge in that is, though."

Israeli scientists also did not rule out the possibility of Al-Qaeda terrorist camps existing in orbiting space stations, camps that could not be detected by regular sweeps of space areas.

"It's a slim possibility," said Pentagon terrorist expert Gen. J. Halftrack, "but I wouldn't put it past them. The technology is beyond their reach, by our estimates, but to tell you the truth those videos they produce have greater production value than we would have estimated. No telling what they're capable of that we don't know. And we haven't really looked for them in space."

Upon the completion of the sentence, the general dialed a direct line to the White House to propose War on Space Terror legislation, which the president presumably jumped on.

Ambassador Lentin, however, stressed that all Israel seeks through space conquests is peace.

"The Israeli people do not embrace violence," he said, sharing his fries with this reporter at a Burger King restaurant, but not his Dr. Pepper. "It is our desire to step into space with open hands, to greet any who live there and share with them. We will be happy to share our people, and their space stations or colonies. We can all get along, and I'm sure any Arabic astronauts we encounter will realize that."

For all the talk of sharing, this reporter never did get a sip of Lentin's Dr. Pepper, even when offering to use a second straw.

The new year is presenting more hurdles than some excessive hurdle-presenting device of some sort. Remember the Masked Dude?

Yes, former pro-wrestler the Masked Dude has been consistently on my ass like my former glitter-covered spandex tights. If you remember the details from my previous column, you're one up on me—I had to look it up and re-read it just to remember, and it was hell finding the commune on this "internet" thing. But as I mentioned, the Masked Dude, the only 5-foot wrestler in our wrestling league, the Dandies of America, constantly sought me out to turn his zero-win record into a one-win, or higher. As the 4-Foot Nightmare, I was the shortest wrestler in the league and, in the Dude's opinion, the easiest path to victory. But I never fought the Dude, as I recovered from my wrestling infatuation long enough to resign from the D.O.A. and toss my tights to the wind, where they landed in a ladies social group and ruined everyone's evening.

But that wasn't enough for the Masked Dude—he's sought me out like a blood-sniffing hound, always seeking that victory he's so badly wanted. It was truly difficult to track me down, too, considering how I kept my wrestling identity a secret from everyone, even my wife—hell, even my cat, Makeshift. Somehow, though, the Dude found me living with Lee and Camembert and began stalking me, like next-level trailer trash ex-husband stalking, too.

As if the notes weren't bad enough, and they really weren't, kind of a disappointment, he began following me everywhere around November. I haven't mentioned it before now because, well, between the private investigators, the tax people, and teens seeking drugs, if I mentioned every time someone was stalking me I'd run out of column space. But unlike the rest, I couldn't buy off the Masked Dude or score anything strong enough to dissuade him. I reported it to the police, but once you get there attention with a firm "Listen, needledicks," they won't hear anything else you say. So I was on my own.

Finally, one night, I got home and found a message scrawled to me on the wall of my apartment hallway, in letters seven-foot high: "I CHALENJ YU, NITMAR!"

With the poor spelling and lack of context, it took a long while to decipher, I can tell you that. I feel a little bad for dumping Camembert out of bed, putting a sack over his head and beating him with a phone book, but you can understand my confusion—who wouldn't assume it was their roommate when first seeing a message like that? I wanted to make sure his challenge was met with enough force to put off another one. But then I remembered Camembert spells very well—he proofreads these columns for me sometimes, like all times. And once he returned to consciousness, he assured me it must have been someone else, and not Lee either. With those two eliminated, and once I had called the staff of the commune and PETA to make sure none of them had anything to do with it, I narrowed my focus to the Masked Dude.

A challenge! To me! An opportunity to end this madness once and for all, and return to regular madness.

If you thought I'd turn it down, you don't know Rok Finger. Yessir, challenge accepted… as I scrawled in ten-foot letters on the outside of our building, just to show up the little prick. I even named the time and place, which I'm keeping secret, but let's just say it took me three buildings to get the entire message across and, well, it's a hefty fine.

One week from tonight, the gauntlet has been throw down. The loser has to pick it up, and Rok Finger never picks up after himself. Boo-ya!

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