I've never felt truly comfortable celebrating a death, but today I'll make an exception. May Musab al-Zarqawi rest in pieces. The bottom of my shoe is too good for him.
He wasn't a "worthy" enemy. He was an efficient, insane coward. I'll trust that he believed in his perverse vision, but so do serial killers, rapists and child molesters. He was without honor, without a country, without conscience ... and now, without most of his parts connected.
I abhor that American soldiers would commit any atrocity, and I wish fervently that justice is done in Haditha. But let's not lose sight of the kind of enemy we face. We should strive beyond human endurance to avoid being like them, but we mustn't let their inhumanity engulf our sensitivity. Zarqawi and his ilk yearn to kill every American man, woman and child and are unbound by any rules of engagement. Our prosecution of this war simply cannot be decent at every turn.
The explosive death of Musab al-Zarqawi, the terrorist, is good news. It eviscerated him, but it's unlikely to eviscerate the radical Islamist movement, even if we scrape Osama and his lieutenants from the face of the Earth, too.
But, gosh, today feels better without Musab to kick around.