When I heard the news, I was glad, happy, content, peaceful. Back in 2001 when this guy sent his boys to crash their planes on the tower and at DC I watched in terror, anguish, and frustration at the carnage. I saw people I thought were just papers floating down from the buildings. I imagined the horror and terror of those who realized they couldn't get out of the buildings that they knew jumping out and slowly watching the ground meet you was much better than collapsing on the floor of whatever building they were on and burning to death. I wasn't thinking in terms of Muslim or Christian, Asian or American or African, white, black, round-eyed, slit-eyed. I was just thinking PEOPLE. People who had people who loved them, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, nieces, in-laws, friends, mothers, fathers, just people going about their daily business of living, of worrying about whatever it is that was bothering them, people who were expected to come home to their families, or to birthday parties, or weddings, or hearings, people who expected to be home to their flats, apartments, RV's, or whatever it is that they go home to. Now they're dead. Osama bin Laden and his "martyrs" destroyed the lives of thousands of people. I felt angry, I didn't know who to lash out at. I see a woman in her Muslim dress and it takes all my effort not to get out of my car and just tear off that stupid dress and face-covering. I see a man with Middle Easter features and the same thing happens to me. I imagined things to do. It took a lot of effort not to go down to the level of these terrorists and hurt somebody whose only fault just about then was to be a Muslim. I pass by this mosque on my way to my church and feel so mad that this country their fellow Muslims so hated, would send its police to make sure they were unharmed in their going to and fro in worship, and I feel ashamed of myself at the thoughts in my mind, sitting there in my church, singing the songs of Zion. That very day, I wanted to go to any recruiting center and say: ENLIST ME, GIVE ME A GUN, TRAIN ME, SEND ME. But, I was over 50. Not even a citizen. I felt violated, just like many Americans. I felt dared, wanted to fight, ready to fight. But who to fight ? And so, from then and the years that followed, that frustration stayed within me, a simmering anger, fed all the more by the sight and news of Palestinians and Egyptians and others dancing and exchanging gifts because bin Laden had the boldness to send in his troops AT THE VERY HEART of capitalist America, never mind that they MURDERED innocents, which very well included their own fellow Muslims. I felt angrier, and angrier, watching the news of suicide bombers blowing themselves and MURDERING more innocents in Israel, and Spain, and London. I felt nauseated at natural-born Americans fighting their own people, murdering them, because they have converted to Islam and felt more loyalty towards a religion than a country and people who nurtured them since birth. I wanted my hands around the neck of the New York bomber, a naturalized US citizen who SWORE AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO THESE UNITED STATES. Oh, what contemptible filth. I watched aghast as a mother who lost her son who proudly went to serve his country turned against her own president, and government. I couldn't believe the news coming out of Fort Bliss. Of an army major shooting fellow soldiers because his mind was poisoned by the same filth that poisoned bin Laden's mind, and the minds of his minions, and of many other Muslims here in this country, and in other parts of the world. And now bin Laden is dead. How did I feel ? Like somebody with a great weight lifted off his shoulder, who can once more leave his home and feel the sun shining on him and smell the fragrance of flowers. Last night, for the first time in many years, I slept with a smile, with the feeling akin to a husband who just had a satisfyingly intimate relationship with his wife. I REJOICE at his death, I am happy he is dead, I do not, will not, and cannot feel compassion for those he leaves behind. Justice is served. This country and its people, citizens and residents, have been avenged. Honor is restored. And, as usual, the hypocrites, the wet blankets, the tongue-clucking, head-shaking, arm-folding critics of the circle I move around in, those who fancy themselves holier, gentler, more sensitive, than others, pipe in with their pseudo-pious pronouncements of how so unchristian, how so un-Christlike, it was to rejoice over the death of one who brought so much sorrow and pain into American households as well as those of other nations, of how one is supposed to love their enemies because that is what Christ said to do. I don't know what the term means: Love your enemies. I know Christ said that, but exactly what did He mean. Which enemies are these ? Theological enemies ? Military enemies ? Racial enemies ? Petty enemies ? How do you, as a Christian soldier, love your enemy ? Do you, like the Seals that took down the filth named bin Laden, shoot him on the forehead, and say, "Sorry, but, I love you, bro" ? How do you, a physically stronger one, for example, drive that bayonet into the chest of your enemy as you and he wrestle with each other, who will surely kill you if he can overpower you, and still love him? Do you look him in the eye and say, "I love you with the love of Christ, I'm a Christian. Sorry to do this, but it's you or I" ?. There has to be an explanation to that phrase, but in all honesty, I do not believe it has anything to do with enemies like bin Laden and the kind of war that he wages, in which our men and women have to fight. I can only fall back into Christ. No, that wasn't an error in English. I meant "into", not "fall back on". I cannot do, given the flesh I live in, what is commanded, that is why He had to fulfill every iota of the law, because I am unable to, and I must hide once more in the cleft of the Rock that is mightier than I. When I think of the young Muslim man, or woman, who will continue to strap bombs onto their bodies, so they can blow up people just going about their business, how do I love the likes of bin Laden and those who plant hatred into the hearts of these young Muslim men and women who end their lives, and others, for a cause that exists only in their minds, and a religion as empty in its soteriology as Islam ? I can't. I can only respond in hate to their kind. And when they are cut down, my response is : joy. I'm happy bin Laden is dead. And will be happy everytime a known terrorist leader is killed: the leader, not the follower. For the follower, I feel sadness. Him or her I can love. Him or her I can feel sadness for because he or she is as much a victim of those who call themselves leaders. But the leader ? Forget about it.