#gotitallwrong

Instead of marching through the desert’s blood dust in the hot aroma of sulfur, ISIS should follow in the path of the other Isis, the Protector of the Dead.

If you speak in the Rose Garden, especially if you rock a one-third Taliban, one-third Russian Orthodox, and one-third Sawtooth Mountain Freak beard, and you wear your hair up in an Ozzy ponytail, you can’t do it in a white shirt without a jacket and in the only tie you’ve ever worn in your entire life, a tie better suited for a Republican city councilman in the suburbs of Couer d’Alene, especially if your wife looks practically normal in her ill-fitting, down-market Michelle Obama sequined dress. Come on, Daddy. You’re practically begging Bill O’Reilly to accuse you of palling around with the Terrorists. For goodness sake, you’ve at least got to wear a Robe of Many Colors, an array of Quartz Crystals, a Thurible hanging from either hand, and a UPC Code tattoo on the back of your God-Fearing neck. Play the part.

But whatever you do, don’t shave.

— Guy Grand’s Royal Bastard, IV