After weeks of bloody conflict, a weary Kofi Annan pens a heartfelt confession to his long-lost lover…
Dear Yasser,
I certainly expected the widespread destruction in Gaza after the killing and kidnapping of Israeli soldiers, but I didn’t anticipate the disproportionate attacks on Lebanon.
I knew I should have planned this all out more carefully.
I’m so much better at telling peacekeeping forces to turn their backs on massacres and murders, like in Kosovo and Rwanda, or the kidnapping of the Israeli soldiers in 2000. Or the Congo. Or East Timor. Or…
Look at me, bragging again.
Oh well. The worst part of this whole thing is that it’s getting hard to keep the soldiers hidden in the headquarters building. Everyone thinks they’re in the Iranian embassies in Gaza and Beirut, but they just held them for me before I could arrange “diplomatic” transport.
It’s almost like a damned Marx Brothers movie. Maids keep walking in on me as I’m sticking tasers in the soldiers’ faces, but they’re easily sent back to the Amazonian tribes we kidnapped them from.
Commissary asks why I’m ordering extra meals to be sent to my office every day. Wolf Blitzer even noticed them in the corner during an interview a few days ago, but I told him to say nothing and he’s been good for it ever since.
One managed to grab a phone and tried to call his embassy, but thank God we haven’t paid the phone bill in weeks. I guess Kojo dipping his hand into the till every now and then has its advantages.
We pass the time by playing Bridge, letting various OIC delegation representatives torture confessions out of them, and listening to jazz classics. When I go home at night, Mark Malloch Brown (you remember him, don’t you? he says hi) takes over and reads them Nabka stories.
Thank God I came in early yesterday. Marky was trying to burn one of their flags in front of them and I grabbed it out of his hand and stomped it out before the sprinkler system went off.
I didn’t realize we didn’t have a functioning sprinkler system up on this floor. until later that afternoon, so I’ve made burning and stomping their flags a regular thing now. It’s so much easier to do it in my office than out in the park, and there’s no tourists or press ro catch me, either.
Then there’s this whole deliberate targeting of the UNIFIL post. I told Nasrallah he could just use the bases for Poker Night and the occasional storage of weapons. Maybe using them for cover, but they’d have to return any blue helmets they borrowed from the armory to hide their identity. I didn’t realize he’d start using them for cover all of the time.
Oh well. I’d better plan trips to China, Austria, Finland, and Canada to make nice with the families and convince them to go all Corrie on the Jews for killing their kids. Never a dull day, right?
Those damn Australians, saying that sending troops to the area before a permanent cease-fire would be a suicide mission. Now I’ve got hundreds of thousands of applications from Iran and Palestine and Pakistan demanding to sign up for that mission. It’s hard enough to budget for the helmets and ambulances, but it’s been a long time since the General Assembly authorized the procurement of virgins for peacejihadis… I mean peacekeepers.
I’d better wrap this up before that barbarian John Bolton comes up here and kicks the door down. I still miss you, and don’t get all jealous at the photos people are putting up of me an Nasrallah hugging and shaking hands and smiling. We’re just the best of friends.
My deepest love,
Kofi
PS: Say hi to Zarky for me! Tell him I still have his copy of “Fountainhead.”
