Fort

I like forts. I was really good at building them and stocking them with dirt clods and throwing them when I was but a wee 909er. So when, on the way back from the bike shop, I saw a sign for a historic fort, I couldn't pass it up. Overlooking the Arabian Gulf, it was a sprawling array of moats, tunnels and living quarters - and lots of steps. It was well over 100 degrees, but a dry heat today so not bad. Not a sign in sight. I even asked the military guy posted there what the story was on this place. He didn't know. I asked him who built it and when. He didn't know. I asked him what the name of this fort is. He didn't know. In the small village right outside the fort's gate, they spoke English, but no one knew what the hell the fort was doing there. WTF.

When I was driving out, I saw a huge sign that said the site was a designated "United Nations World Heritage Site." Then it all became clear. Remembering ole' Bob Barr's fight against UN world domination, I could see what he was talking about, in that clearly the one-worldists had duped the natives by dangling cash and seized this land (a military base no-less) to establish a beachhead for further UN land grabs. Further, it was clear that the UN had erased the memories of those at the site and, I am sure, "re-educated" them in one of their camps to want universal healthcare and open borders.

I had to look the place up later to find that it was a 16th century Portuguese fort. Then I popped in my "Red Dawn" DVD and screamed "Wolverines!!!!!" from my flat window.