Assassinations of Mahmoud Ahmadjinejad and Kim Il-Jong

Mahmoud Ahmadjinejad might think that he is a strong leader, yet he can be wrong. He could be easily assassinated on KGB watch. He also knew that Israel could fly over Iraq and bombard the nuclear facilities on either American or Russian watch (that depends on Georgia's state of politics). It is witty that he might be a dog pack behind Shi'ah; he also might be alienated by true Persians who were not Muslims of national originality. Clerical leader, who holds the presiding key of all Iranian politics, could be also easily assassinated by an assertion of Russo-Georgian state and geopolitical decisions. Look at a huge bull state of Russia that could evaporate Iran's people! Is that not a grand look?

Beijing is a dangerous one. Not only it controls North Korea, but it also risks a counter-strike. Therefore, the only logical plan to avoid a nuclear bomb, is to assassinate Kim Il-Jong. Beijing is simply too circus-around-the-politics that it actually endowed its country to a mickey mouse figure, with a Mongolian royalty above the head. Assassination of Il-Jong could be very well be in discussions with Beijing and Tokyo-Washington, and perhaps even Moscow. Beijing is probably more sympathetic towards Seoul than Tokyo counterpart; for these reasons that need to be discussed on whether to assassinate the North Korea dictator, or simply replace with a benign one. It is wise to remind Beijing that the existence of Korea states was because of Japanese sacrifices in Russo-Japanese war prior to WWI. Kim Il-Jong is getting old and rotting away, wouldn't he lose his sane mind before he die? It is precisely that. He has WWII and Korean wars mentalities; not WWI mentality.

These traitors shared secrets with Bhutto, who was reasonably assassinated from an Indian informer. Therefore, Mahmoud Ahmadjinejad and Kim Il-Jong might justifiably deserve the assassinations as nations at large see fit to do so. There are plenty of people willing to do so, I assume.

A Rebuttal Beef of Businessmen

A Nazi note on swindled illegal immigrants out of Canada.

Once upon a time, there was an Afghan veteran man named Ramon. He sat and discussed with his follower fellow about swindling money out of people's lives. "This", explained Ramon, "is how we do business. The eye-one seeing all, gathering information on people's credit card information to expand small-business initiative." He pointed at the top eye of pyramid.

And so one of his brotherhood Muslims, boasted his laughter with full of jokes around Bolivia-traitor's presence, who knew that he is doomed anyway. Without Cristo's presence, Shrek is also doomed. It is so appalled and lamentable that the only people he have around him are teenagers. It is tragedy waiting to happen; his illegal transactions that have enabled Obama administration to come in the existence of staggered debts. Dividing each credit recipe with a second recipe stapled to each Pizzeria order, this is the only option that he have left to live in this laughable American landscape. Raised in Afghan-Pak-Iran lines and educated in Moscow for six years in politics, which only adds up to the amusing life of Shrek. Outward, he likes to look like a herculean figure, and inside, is the explosive tragedy waiting to happen. And so I type on keyboard: "Heart attack, 3. 2. 1."

To wipe the plate clean, Shrek concludes: cheating the money out of people's lives, with customers and employees under him. He'd devise, change, cheat and flow money into each employee's income to pay off a household. On occasions, Shrek knew an individual to blame all for the troubles. And he also knew that the individual is too important a figure. Canada with weak immigrant laws are so speakeasy and insignificant that he knew how to get into, and, unwittingly, ended up in the wrong hands of land. Shrek is so weak that he is so dependent on this individual for survival guide.

Work ethics is laughable. A picturesque full of spies, immigrants, criminals, veterans, and mind-stricken individuals realized that they can no longer handle the news around the Lutheran individual.

A Myriad Mind of Entrapped Criminology Review

An author drove to the University of Maryland for a Jerry Lee Symposium. In precaution, he was encouraged by other drivers to go to the Maryland side instead of Virginia side through the rear mirror. The author would have to admit in grace and thank-you to the Isuzu driver, who warned him to go to right and use the Baltimore beltway. Although he arrived at the University of Maryland at early time, he was ponderous in his isolation of readings on Catholic Bible book and a foolish comic book entitled “The Infinity Gauntlet”. Only a day before, his sibling encouraged the author to read the comic. Upon the arrive in the garage parking, he began to read the comic book.

Satiric nerves creped on his mind. He had a countless cigarette breaks since the arrival around 10:45 am, or within a range of estimate. The author frequently checked the time-clock on a watch, eventually to the point that he had to re-check at the parking authority building. It turned out that the time was actually 1:03 pm, not 12:50 pm. In a quest, he lost his mind and walked to the west section of the University of Maryland campus. He was thinking and observing rapidly, in the unlikeness of a journey beforehand. Once he reached the wrong place, he went to the center of building or campus safety, or perhaps somewhat different building. He asked, “Where the heck is Conference Center?”.

So he was informed in a simple way, yet kept on determinant walking along the Knox Road. The very mind kept on chasing around the neurons, he was still well prepared and amid observant. The author did not care about the arduous interpreter schedule; all he needed to do is to relax the mind and cease worries. He was very demanding person, and so he eventually arrived in the location. Given an information, he was induced into following people to the destination. Upon the office of visitor place in a hotel, he filed out a blunt information. The author, then ordered to be sit, began to walk around and observe and criticize artworks. Eventually, he began to find more and more of artworks.

Thus, finally, he was led into a mysterious maze of hall to attend. In a way, he was tricked, as he knew that within of a degree. Being deceived, he eventually reached the endpoint at a window. That was the place I was supposed to go, he thought. So he went on to downstairs, and to different the designated building across a sidewalk. Upon the entrance, the author drank a fountain of water before he observe the hall fame of artworks. Distracted from the presentation, he was lost in his mind. He simply walked around and observe without actually a serious thought about going to the Symposium. The author was worried about time, of course, yet he knew that next lecture would begin at 2:30 pm. He did not waste his time walking around and criticizing the art works.

Time has finally came up. The author looked up at the map demographic; nerves were upon his mind. He studied cautiously, then moved on briefly to check out the rest of hall artwork. People and speculators were watching him; yet he did not want any attention at all. He only wanted to be a simple man without any public attention and fame. The traitor tried to avoid the attentive colleagues, only to study some more artwork around the hall frame. Eventually, he finally came on the time for a 2:35 or 2:40 pm lecture inside a creepy room full of dinosaur monsters talking their mouths off. Initially, the author almost decided to take a chair on the right audience; he changed his mind to sit on the democratic left of column seating. He was nervous, as everyone was watching him, arguing, and deliberately discussing the very matrix of problematic issue of anonymity and terrorism.

The author was prepared with a cup of coffee. However staggered, he is semi-ill prepared for the lecture. He did not want an interpreter, nor ask a request for one. In his own famine, he knew that he could read lips during such a period of imprinted linguistic mind. He enjoyed the lecture; at the same time, he was being criticized and indecisive ability to lift left or right foot to the knee. The author was very studious on every sideshow; it almost drove him crazy. He thought that the lecture was almost perfect, but ill-prepared attempt to appease the masses of illegal crimes that probably got away already within a degree of knowledge. Over time, that may be eventually preventable and prosperous.

After a high degree of intent attention and act, he left at the timetable of 4 pm. Outside the room, he reviewed the mind of the roof lights around the room and its carpet below. The author gathered the necessary bronchi files of the lecture. He picked up the rest of papers and a brief journalistic work on experimental criminology. On his way back, he noticed the erroneous and mazed journey back to the previous building across the sidewalk. The author was shocked; he could not comprehend where he walked in from. He kept on walking the presumed journey, yet he came across to the wrong mazed matrix of upstairs. A suspicion came up on his mind; he could not determine whether if he was on third, fourth, or fifth floor. He was almost lost; until he found his way back to the “EXIT” door. He was in disbelief; instead, he followed an alternative path. As it turned out, he came to the floor that almost lead to a “closed” basement. So he turned right, only find himself to be time-struck between exit-door and a lazy-chair. He entered the outside, and turned back into the hall door opposing the basement entrance, only to find himself back in one right place that he previously was on the path to previous building.

The author went back to home with a lot of minds on his thoughts. Mostly, parts and pieces of the lecture that he picked up during the course of most brain-work. The mapped computational information and its necessity to disassemble the difficult maze and pipes world of matrices were mostly on his mind, and how genetic-linguistics play role on humans minds against the war of terrorism. As long a Muslim kid is bore, he or she is prone to problematic life hood of cultural identity and unnecessary linguistic pride. The more the author think, the more miserable and misrepresented in which precisely that he is placed unto. Bias are easier to justify the results than otherwise, he concluded. The author never wanted a fame; instead, he wanted to destroy the world of terrorism by himself. And so, he did not have a problem doing exactly that, even if it is against his former friends' wish.