So, whaddya think was the last thing that went through his head before he kicked? I’m going with his sandals. Or maybe his shin bones. Because those missiles don’t fuck around.
Anyway, here’s a fitting eulogy, if you’re into such things. Oh, and sleep tight, Yasser.
Every time Yasser goes anywhere, he should look around, and decide what object is the last one he wants to see before he meets the 72 Virginians.