Bin Laden was on T-shirts across the developing world much as we once sported Che Guevara. Probably killed by the same kind of people, if we can be bothered to think about it. Che was a boyhood hero, but one grows up. I have no time for Islam or other religions, though believe the spiritual has place in thought, sadly swamped by religious rot and gullibility exploitation. In this space I have no room to rejoice at the death of a crippled old man by highly trained killers. This does not prevent admiration of the skill and bravery of the men involved in the strike. There is nothing to celebrate – or at least I thought this until I realised the alternative would have been more coverage of the ghastly Royal Wedding.
Bin Laden was never important, in much the same as Bill and Katie are not. Questions as to whether this is a small part of raising the Middle East to a fever pitch and venue for a war to satisfy demands of super rich bankers, are the ones we should be asking, hopefully devoid of the old left and right squabbles that will doom the space from the Syrian Mediterranean to the Iranian Gulf, with Pakistan and Afghanistan left to a new version of the old Indian Empire.
Now, who’s up for a quick mission to get that old Nazi Ratsinger?