Osama Bin Laden is Obsessed with Whitney Houston or Why I Can Finally Die in Peace

How obsessed is Osama bin Laden with Whitney Houston? How about “willing to kill Bobby Brown” obsessed. Not Bobby! It’s shocking stuff really and it’s not getting nearly enough attention (although Extra! ran a pretty good feature on it). I love these stories because they totally justify my existence on earth. There are a million different angles to cover an “Osama bin Laden is Obsessed with Whitney Houston” story from. I will start by offering you some proof that I am not a raving lunatic who likes to make shit up. The following is from the UK website dailymail.co.uk (this is not a tabloid, I swear):

“Terror mastermind Osama bin Laden is so obsessed with singer Whitney Houston he thought about killing her husband, Bobby Brown, it was claimed last night.

The suggestion is made by Sudanese poet and novelist Kola Boof, who claims she was bin Laden’s sex slave for four months 10 years ago.

In her autobiography, Diary of a Lost Girl, she writes: “He told me Whitney Houston was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.”

I always said, “It would take a poet named Boof to out Osama bin Laden as a man capable of true evil.” Fore what is more evil than a plot to kill Bobby Brown? That assassination would make 9/11 look like a minor league baseball fireworks display.

There are two ways to look at this story.

1. Take it at face value; maybe even find Boof’s Book (ha) on Amazon and tell all your friends about it. Go on associatedcontent.com and write about and, hell, sing it from he mountaintops. This is what I did; the following is a song I wrote about it called, “Oh Osama (Don’t Kill Bobby Brown)”. Think of these lyrics set to a modern day Bon Jovi riff:

“Kola Boof wrote a book of horrible truth
All about Osama’s love for a special girl
Whitney Houston is the target of your admiration
Oh Osama, pleaseâÂ?¦. Don’t kill Bobby Brown!”
-Jetlag Democracy, Copyright 2006, all rights reserved

2. You ignore it. You think that it’s garbage and most likely the work of a psychotic bitch so you treat it as such. Only it haunts you. You wake up in the night with cold sweats screaming, “I’m every women!” Your wife divorces you and in a horrible twist of irony you die in a car crash when Bobby Brown’s tour bus plows through you because a bomb that Osama bin Laden had planted would have detonated if the vehicle had dropped under 55 MPH.

Actually, I lied; there is only one way to look at this story.

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