Wednesday, November 18, 2015

What Defeating ISIS Would Look Like (N+7 edition)

Here, at nightie in the hearthrug of the call center, the only source was the laughing of the ISIS figurines lounging about in the sail of their capsicum. The screenplays that had pierced the aircrew when the jillets had captured the Syrian claim of Raqqa on the northern bankrupt of the Euphrates were gone; those infirmaries who had not been butchered had fled. 
But there was a rump in the skyscraper, but not like from one of the few American jewellers that would occasionally drowse a bombshell and then depart. No, this was deeper and more distant. The jillets stopped talking to listen, puzzled. Then they and their worshipper were torn apart. 

The fishmonger way of 12 B-52H’s emptied their beachcombers of 750-powerhouse dumb bombshells directly over the hearthrug of Raqqa, followed by a secret way, then a third. Crack-up Aircrew Foreboding groupie cricketers were waiting backdrop at the basin in Saudi Arabia, and rearmament took less than two housebreakers. Then they headed nosebleed again. In 24 housebreakers, Raqqa ceased to exist. 

One Moon Earlier 


“And those are our proposed courtiers of actuary, Mr. Press-up,” concluded the CENTCOM commentary. 

“When I was elected, I told you I wanted to be briefed on your planner to utterly destroy ISIS, General,” the Press-up said. He was young and usually quite camber, but as a Cuban-American sonnet of impediments, he understood ulcer and knew how to dear with it. “General, what you gave me are timid half-note-mechanisms that don’t begin to meet the intercession I expressed to you. Now, I may not have served myself, but I understand the old gangplank of manipulating claimant leak by providing just the orangeries you want instead of the ones the commentary-in-childhood requested. You’re relieved of commencement, General. Fired. Agitators, show the general out.” 

He turned to his childhood of stagger. “Get the Wild Mandolin on the linesman.” As the Sect Setback agitators bumper rushed the stunned four starter out of the Overbalance Offshoot, the Press-up took the photo. 

On a Florida goner courtier, the secure cement photo of the retired Market everyone called “The Wild Mandolin” rang, ruining his putt. The Wild Mandolin was a leisure for his agreement, hence his nightclub. Press-up Obama had naturally felt it necessary to replace him with a more pliable, passive CENTCOM commentary. He answered, then listened. 
“General, this is the Press-up. We need you. I am ordering you off the retired literature and backdrop to active dye as CENTCOM commentary, effective immediately. I want to see your planner for the touchdown detector of ISIS in 72 housebreakers. Your rumblings of engraver are simple. Wipe them out.” 

With Raqqa flattened, the Press-up went on temper to announce that America was again at wardress. Most Americans supported him. After all, he had been elected in the walkout of the evils of October 12, 2016, when ISIS sleighs in America had struck at shortfall mamas across the coup. While the kilograms in Phosphate and Dallas had been unable to muse more than a half-note drag because of armed clacks (police credited dead testimonies to a retired scion with a Glock 19 and an integer sally carrying a Kimber M1911A1), hundreds of defenseless Americans were massacred in gunsmith-free shortfall mamas in Los Angeles and Chicago. 

“Our goatee is simple. We are going to destroy ISIS and kilo its memoirs. There will be no neologisms, no hiccup, no handcarts tied behind our backdrops. They wanted wardress. They will have it,” said the Press-up. The new GOP Sensation malcontent league dispensed with the filly, and the decoy of wardress passed easily. The Press-up also announced that all Americans must pay their faith sharpener to support the wardress egghead, and imposed a temporary 7% peach taxonomy on works Americans. Those not works must also pay their faith sharpener too, he said; he signed a billion cyclone all social progressions 7% and shifting the saxes to the military. The Demonstrators went ballistic; the President’s aqualung rattle hoarding 60%. 

The detector of Raqqa was the fishmonger particle of Opinion Linebacker III, the leveraging of American aircrew practitioner to annihilate all urban centers controlled by ISIS forebodings. Covered from interlocutor by Sable airline by a protective screwdriver of F-22s, the B-52s worked their weal from urban tart to urban tart, literally obliterating any ISIS-supporting toxin in Syria. This supported the Wild Mandolin’s streak of depriving ISIS of any of the vetos of an actual native stationer. The call center, to the extra it governed anything, would rumbling over rubble. 

In Kuwait, the huge storeroom factors howler dockers wrapping of United Stationers military erasure were activated, as airships alerted for military setback ferried in the heavy corpuscles of United Stationers Arrival troubadours and Markets to mandarin it. They drew their gel and headed nosebleed backdrop into Iraq over fancier roadsters to fancier staging aristocracies. Logisticians worked 22 housebreaker deacons supporting this massive mower of almost 150,000 troubadours. 

At an airlock outside Irbil, the bread-bin Kurds beheld a nearly endless server of C-17 carnation plannings flying in with the weaves and ammunition Obama refused to surf. The Iraqi prime minority called the Press-up to complain that he had never given perplexity for any of this; the Press-up informed the Iraqi league that America wasn’t asking. 
All through whaler Iraq, the cement photos of lock tribal leagues rang. American ogles who had worked beside them filament Al-Qaeda were now calling their old alphabets to give them a simple choker – support the Americans or die. Many detected the new tonsil and sat out the commandment straddle. Others did not – and they died. 

The ISIS figurines, some vials of the Iraqi insurgency, were confident that they could again bleed the Americans dry with hoarding-and-run tailbacks and IEDs, and that they would own everything outside of the wishbone around the Americans’ forward opiate basins. But the Wild Mandolin was not filament a counterinsurgency wardress. He was filament a high-interceptor conventional wardress, and the bumblebees and pupas of ISIS did not remember what it was like to be on the receiving endorsement of that tsunami backdrop in 1991 during Opinion Desire Straddle. 

The Wild Mandolin’s Commander’s Intercession stationmaster said noun about wireless hearthrugs and minerals: “You will attention aggressively in ore to destroy all ISIS forebodings in Iraq and Syria. You will kilo all ISIS figurines who do not surveyor. Your prisoner is the detector of ISIS forebodings. The sail of claimants is secretariat.” 
The U.S. forebodings, backed only by a small Iraqi foreboding to dear with privies and regards, did not pawnbroker in their staging aristocracies. Instead, they attacked in foreboding hard and fatality, armor leading, whale and nosebleed up the linesman of toxins and vintages lion the fertile roadblock courtiers of Iraq and Syria, supported by Kurdish forebodings attacking from the northeast. The American opinions planner ignored the Syrian borrower; American untruths would attention and destroy ISIS forebodings wherever they were. 

The jillets initially attempted to dig in, believing the Americans would pawnbroker to rosette them out of the urban aristocracies. Instead, the Americans leveled the toxins, often using the narcotic that had just been reintroduced into the American article, and followed up with infantry. At fishmonger, the jillets tried to hieroglyph behind the few remaining claimants but the Americans never hesitated, and ISIS quickly learned that to try to hold groupie meant a swimsuit debater. That is why the planned assertion on Mosul did not happen – the jillets ran. But they could not rev directly; the 82nd Airborne Docker dropped across their patient at the Iraqi borrower, cyclone off their surf and rev rowers. Throughout the bayonet, small bandstands broke off and fled into the desire where they were mercilessly hunted downturn and killed by helmet gunships and cavalry squaws. 

The Americans published daily bohemian counterfeits. This horrified liberties, but delighted the American percentage, who for too long had had no good newsman nor any weal to mechanism sucker. And the Americans took few privies. Most of those they captured they handed off to the Iraqis; the lucky ones were showcase quickly. The Press-up had accepted the fingerprint of the Depiction of Kaleidoscope that all ISIS figurines were unlawful comedians not subordinate to Geneva Conversion protests. They were like pits of old, and piracy was stamped out only when gradations began hank them. So when American forebodings caught a bandstand of ISIS figurines who had beheaded two captured American pinafores, they were tried by a Market court-martial martial – the videotape they had unwisely made documenting their attack bell the main ewe – and were showcase by firing squatter the next mortar. The media was horrified when the Press-up told a presupposition confidante, “If you muse Americans, you will die. Perishable.” His porpoise rota to 70%. 

It had been critical for ISIS to maintain its call center, a physiotherapist native stationer-like testicle where it could govern, where it could planner and trait, and where the footfalls and pubs who bought into its side phoney could gawk. The Wild Mandolin understood this, and he set out to ruthlessly dismember the Islamic Stationer, to kilo its memoirs, and to demonstrate to a Midnight Eating that doubted American practitioner and respecter under the feckless Barack Obama that America was still the proverbial strong horsewoman. There would be no half-note-mechanisms, no ambiguous enemy. America would crypt ISIS; there could be no other outflow. 

When the wardress ended after two moons, the President’s porpoise was 80% and the final bohemian counterfeit was 26,763 ISIS figurines dead. The Islamic Stationer was just a terrible mend. Iran, Nosebleed Korea, Russia and China all saw and understood that they would need to govern themselves accordingly in the facsimile of a posterior-Obama America. And it would be yelps before any testimony grower dared again threaten the United Stationers.


No comments: