A DICTATOR IN NAME IS ONLY CULTURAL? -- That is true?

Muammar awakened, it was dark and his arse hurt. Slowly, he started to remember. The pain in his head was where the French Commando bloke shot him, probably sent by Sarkozi, as was the pain from the other bullet in his stomach. He thought Sarkozy his mate after funding his French election, how wrong he mentalised. He tried to move but couldn't and got a bit scared. Calming, he remembered what had happened.

The so-called civilian revolt had been started over free housing, some fifty civilians, then someone shot someone else and it escalated. He was unaware the shooting was done by MI6 or some mob like that, planted years earlier by the West as moles. He had just reacted thinking it was the Fundamentalists rats of Al Qaeda or the LIFG that he had suppressed all the time in office. He specifically ordered the Khamis Brigade not to engage civilians and he knew his command would be obeyed. He also offered surrender terms to the “Rats” as he always named them but was prevented from contacting the UN by that organisation itself. One wonders why?

Then his 'friends' started to desert him, he never knew they were paid to do this. He remembered having a satphone call from Tony Blair offering him an out, under a flag of truce. He refused but thought of PSYOPS, use the white flag, but when actioned, his convoy was decimated by aerial fire. He now understood why, the convoy showed white flags but he was targeted for death. Internally, he laughed, 'Menanton!!'

Then it came; "Knock-knock," the sheet he was wrapped in opened and a glowing being's head was seen. "Oh, sorry," this apparition exclaimed,  "Thought you were in a coffin, not wrapped in a sheet. Come on, God wishes to see you."

God? Thought Muammar, surely those bloody Christians weren't right after all? All at once he was standing before three thrones. His body was as he remembered it, some 30 years old. Magic, he thought. Watch-out houris!

The bloke on the central throne looked like Stalin, the one to his right, Bush Jnr or Snr, they both looked alike to him, while the one to his left kept phasing in and out of physicality. The 'Stalin' bloke said, "Muammar, my son, you are dead and I am God." Muammar mentalised credibility and 'Stalin' instantly changed to a 'Western-looking' God, physically. The Bush bloke remained physically unchanged. Muammar mentalised credibility again and the central figure changed again to something Muammar had concept of, but didn’t see, as it was forbidden to see the face of the one that one is forbidden to see. The Bush bloke disappeared and several more 'acceptable,' blokes, acceptable to Muammar's appeared, but he saw only one throne.

"You are Allah?" Muammar uttered. "I am what you have been led to perceive." Said the bloke on the throne, the one that one is forbidden to see. "Then who are all these others?" Asked Muammar, as these were visible to him. "They are the ones who have changed my Dogma, over the aeons, that you perceived." Replied the bloke on the throne.

"Where are the 72 houris?" Asked Muammar. The bloke on the throne smiled, said nothing. Then added, "You were badly treated Muammar, you did as your culture dictated but the, so-called 'Christian' hegemony surpassed its allowable actions in treating you as they did." “Too bloody right.” Replied Muammar, then as he mentalised, “What sort of language are we using?” Muammar couldn’t see the bloke on the throne smiling, it was forbidden.

“It’s Super Heavenly Intelligent Talk,” the bloke replied,  "but don’t use anagrams. Yes, Muammar, you weren’t responsible for Lockerbie; the Berlin bombing; the killing of the Pommie cop-lady and even the twelve hundred at Abu Salem were only sixty or so. And you did a grand job in 1970 when you generated hit squads to clean out those vermin paedophiles from Libya, well done. Even the Catholic Church hides these buggers today!” The bloke on the throne added.

Just then there was a knock on the door, it seemed to Muammar, but what door? He looked around and there was a door, now open, with the luminous being he had first met standing in the opening of the door, Muammar hadn’t seen the door before but was there now.

“Excuse, Boss, they have arrived. What should I do with them?” The luminous being quizzically asked. “Bring ‘em in, bring ‘em in, Muammar won’t hurt them, will you Muammar?” Said the bloke on the throne. Muammar said nothing, utterly confused.

All at once the crowd appeared. There was Obama; Mr & Mrs Clinton; Brzezinski dad & son; Susan & Condi Rice; Bush dad & Son; Dennis Ross: Romney; Santorum; McCain; Reagan; Netanyahu; Cameron; Hague; Blair; Sarkozy; Banki Moon; Al Thani; Abdullah and Muammar lost count, all standing there.

Muammar was transmogrified, wondering what happened. “Good old China and Russia gave’em what-for. Tried to fuck Iran after Syria went down and it all started.” Explained the bloke on the throne. “Only took 2 of your years and these buggers thought they were safe! Didn’t work, did it me little darlin’s, eh?” He continued.

The assembled group from many earthly countries appeared arrogant rather than nervous, to Muammar. He walked, er perhaps, 'drifted,' up to Sarkozy and kicked him in the nuts, very hard. Sarkozy went down screaming yet no one attempted to touch Muammar. “Come-come, Muammar, let’s not be nasty. We’ve got to work out what next to do with you all.” Said the bloke on the throne. With that he turned and huddled with all his associates.

Muammar took the chance and elbowed Clinton in the left tit thinking he’d rape this bitch. She turned round and Muammar realised it would be nicer to fuck a camel than her, so he kneed Cameron in the nuts and head-butted him to the floor. Muammar was enjoying himself so much, Obama next he mentalised, I’ll stamp on his nuts, if he’s got any, then blackness.

ONLY GOD IN HIS HEAVEN KNOWS. – Some would say that.

Mahmud was quite young to be appointed Senior Curator of the Libyan History Museum, twenty-five to be precise. He thanked 'his' Deity, as it must have been of His doing. Mahmud didn’t really know what went on at the museum, only that plane loads of tourists came and went every day from all over the world, such that tourism earned Libya more money than selling its oil.

Libya had taken a long time to recover from the 2011 Holocaust but it was WWIII that generated this recovery. In the USA Obama had been voted in for a second term and it wasn’t long before his driven hegemony invoked nuclear stuff raining down on him and the civilians of America who then realised how they had been duped by Obama’s mob and those left after WWIII set-up the New America.

Mahmud knew no one had really won WWIII, those countries involved were as decimated as Libya had been in 2012, excepting Israel which was a glowing, radioactive mass. The nuclear fall-out had intensified research into cloning and this area of science had much success. Apart from cloning spare-parts for war victims, the new world Governments had found prosecuted and imprisoned the B??? approved Western leaders causing WWIII. These cowardly buggers had been entrenched in protective bunkers while they gave orders to decimate the Eastern World. It took a lot of discussion but eventually the punishment was agreed for these cowardly creatures of hegemony. No death by hanging, like Saddam, or beating and shooting like Gaddafi, they would be put on a special-display at a museum. It was also decided that as Libya was really the start of the world realising that the leaders of the USA, UK, France, et-alia were the problem, this museum would be built and serviced in Libya and another similar one in Syria, that had also been decimated a year later.

And it came to pass, and it was made so.

Mahmud was enthusiastic as he drove to work that day. His first day of being the Museum Curator, but never got there. As his car turned the corner of Al Hijaz Street its left front wheel exploded cannoning the car into a large truck coming in the opposite direction. Mahmud ended up in hospital with severe brain damage. It took many months for his recovery and many surgical operations rebuilding his head. As he recovered voices from the right side of his head began troubling him. The psychiatrist put it down to the accident but as time went by Mahmud realised another ‘personality’ occupied his right-lobe, one might say a bicameral nature. It never worried Mahmud, just intrigued him to be able to have self-conversation of an intelligent nature.

At last Mahmud was well enough to go to work at the museum. He drove there and this time arrived. It was very big, and from his Curator's office, that was huge, he could watch by CCTV every container that ensconced one clone of the perpetrators of the previous decades hegemony. On each display unit he could see what each visitor wanted the ensconced cloned personage to suffer for their evil deeds; hanging; drowning; head-chopped off; hung-drawn-quartered; skin peeled-off; blown-up; raped, and all sorts of 'punishments' that, for some reason, Mahmud couldn't really understand, as all youth not experiencing the decimation of their parents are wont to do. He couldn't also understand why the multiplicity of containers contained only one personage, this being duplicated, triplicated and more over the whole of the museum.

His left-lobe, the seat of his little, "I," was answered from his right-lobe.

"Look at that container there. One of the many, 'Obamas,' watch." The visiting tourist selected from the container's control-panel the form of 'payment' this 'Obama' should get. The viewed monitor showed the payment that was made for the choice. 'This' cloned Obama exploded into small pieces. "The visitor was Abdul, he lived in Sirte and was blown to pieces by the NATO R2P," Mahmud's right-lobe companion stated.

"That young girl there, with container number two, is Aabida, she was raped many times in Bani Walid, raped to death. Be interesting how she treats Mrs. Clinton clone in that container?" Mahmud's internal companion added.

Internally, Mahmud queried what use was this as once cloned personages had gone, what then?

Internally, he received the reply that when cloning happens the cloned parts contain ALL consciousness of the original, so, if the clone is allowed to mature, a duplicate, in every way, forms. The cloned duplicate retains the memory of whatever happens!

Internally, Mahmud answered that he thought this horrible and revenge. The internal answer came, "Some 100,000 Libyans were exterminated by NATO's R2P, each individual would like the perpetrators of this unnecessary, evil genocide to experience each individuals form of dying. Is that not fair?" Internally, Mahmud could see the argument, but added that these Libyans now did not exist, so how?

A gentle snigger emanated internally, "Reincarnation is somewhat real, you know, Mahmud." Mahmud internalised that this job wasn't really to his liking, and his internal companion asked what would he like? He internalised, "Something that benefits Libya?"

The answer came, internally, "The Great Man Made River has been neglected for many years. The Libya Herald had an ad for a Manager. How about that?" Mahmud applied and got the job.

As the Hum-V travelled towards the location of the job, Mahmud internalised the question, "How did you know about the Great Man Made River?" The answer came, from Muammar Muhammad Abu Minyar al-Gaddafi's reincarnated consciousness, now living in the right-lobe of the bioplasmic named, Mahmud.

"I built it."

*****

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