Terrorists treat their women like dogs. As a result, they have NO idea how viscous a nagging wife can be -especially a good old fashioned average "American Nagging Wife" (I don't include girlfriend nagging, just as viscious, because terrorists don't have girlfriends - that would imply courtship, and options for the women.)
You put a suspected terrorist in a room for one hour with a nagging American wife and they will be screaming; "Hey - no fair - I was supposed to get waterboarded, please kill me, please stop her! Okay, okay, the bomb maker is....."
Oh - and that's just your average run of the mill American nagging wife. For really hard cases we bring in a 50-year old wife, whose husband hasn't touched her in five years because she gained ninety pounds since the wedding, and all he hears after a sixteen hour day in the jewelry exchange is:
"Morris - you failure - you weak piece of shit. Where have you been? I'm late for mahjong - I should have married Abe. He's a doctor. He lives in Scarsdale. He still has hair..." You know the drill.
You put this vicious nagging woman in a room with Al Zaweirdi and he'll give you Osama's address and private telephone number in twenty minutes - maybe less.
Remember - these lucky dogs have NEVER been nagged by a woman. If a terrorist woman were to say even: "Mamood, I think maybe you should take a bath, it's been six months, whaddya think?" - By the morning, she would be in the town square trying to dodge an avalanche of stones - and that would be a relief after what Mamood would put her through - and the children.
How about: "Mamood, you stinky failure of a shit husband, you weak hunk of crap, why don't you DO something productive? Why don't we ever go out? Why don't you touch me, you worm? Where have you been? Your friends are all you care about. You eat too much, lose some weight. For God's sake get a raise, turn off the ball game, help with the children. What's wrong with you? See a psychiatrist!"
At this point Mamood would be writing down the location of every building in Sadr City with munitions in it - and then he'd eagerly rat out his son and his brothers. He'd then head off to the nearest bar to drown his sorrows with his fellow good ol' fashion hen-pecked buddies.
C'mon you CIA guys - give it a try - you know I'm right!
