Iowahawk scalps the mainstream media again, with a special guest commentary from the Big Guy in Iraq, Abu Musab for short, who reports on a mandatory weekend Al Qaeda corporate retreat: I Hate My Boss.

After lunch, the next round of stupidity: another one of those retarded “team building” activities. These consultants divided us into color-coded teams, and gave us big bags of styrofoam cups and tongue depressors. The idea was that we were supposed to compete to build the highest cup tower. What the f*ck this had to do with restoring the caliphate, I had no idea, but during the debrief the consultant finally said it was “an exercise to help you discover cooperation strategies.” Oh brilliant. Maybe you could have told me that before I decapitated those three idiots on the Blue Team.

Anyway, after tea break we shuffled back to the conference room for Session 3 (“Caliphate? Let’s Motivate!”) and I swear, that sh*t was so bad it made me wish I was back in the morning session. First up was this middle aged infidel chick Cindy, who droned about how she came to support the jihad after we killed her crusader kid. I mean, this is supposed to be inspirational? We finally get one kaffir mom on our side, and she turns out to be a lunatic hippie egomaniac who won’t shut up, and with a voice like nails on a chalkboard. Jeesh.

I guess the high point of the day is when the PR department showed some of our network media coverage from Satanland. That was hella cool, but then they had to follow it with fan mail from the some of the infidel websites, which was a complete buzz kill. Come on, man. Hitler had his Mussolini. The ‘Cong had their Khmer Rouge. Us? We get Michael Moore and a clown car of dipsh*ts from Kos and DU.

Nobody really said anything, but at this point I think everybody was kind of depressed. If anything, the mood got even worse at the “Reward and Recognition Dinner” that night. Due to budget cuts, they didn’t even have gift cards this year – just some cheesy ‘I (Heart) Jihad’ coffee cups and Successories posters. The after-dinner speaker? Good ol’ blowhard George Galloway, like always. I’d been through that movie before, so I sneaked out and went back to my hotel room. I thought about ordering some porn on SpectraVision, but that stuff ends up on your credit card and I’m already in the doghouse with Fatima and the other wives as it is.

Sorry to be such a downer again. You know it’s funny, but when I signed on with Al Qaeda I was as gung ho as any teenager at the Finsbury Park mosque. I was completely dazzled by Zawahiri’s bullsh*t about “Global Caliphate Platforms” and “paradise option programs.” But I’m telling you, when you’re out there in the field dealing with Team Satan, you become a cynic real fast. Just between you and me, I’m beginning to hate this job and hate my boss, and I would be updating my resume if it wasn’t for the benefits plan.