be careful where you clique
Maybe you’ve heard of ilich ramirez sanchez, aka carlos the jackal. maybe you haven’t… that’s ok too.
I don’t want to go into a full biography of this dude, not here. not now. briefly, other than being a collector of exotic optic frames, he was one of the earliest international poster-boy terrorists- and i speak in the modern sense of the word.
Yet, more often than not, Carlos was a bumbling, clumsy, failed terrorist.
This guy did kill people, there’s no getting around it- He was known to blow up a train car or two. He threw grenades into crowded Parisian cafes. He shot up some well connected French police officers, but what really put him on the map was his 1975, wild west hold-up of an OPEC meeting in Vienna in which he took 11 hostages and then demanded a prime-time airing of a pro-Palestininan informercial on the national network. Austrian TV would never be the same.
Mr Sanchez Ramirez got away with his ransom, an emmy and a free flight to Algeria but somehow he lost all the loot en route…. and that kind of sums things up for old Carlos the botcher.
Carlos was born in Venezuela as ilich ramirez sanchez. His father named him ilich because his father was a Venezuelan Marxist. All of daddy’s ties couldn’t keep young ilich in school. Even after all the strings were pulled and the young jackal was enrolled in Moscow at Patrice Lumumba University, he got kicked out.
Note that Lumumba University, today known as the People’s Friendship University of Russia, was a stooge training camp during the Cold War used to rear the up and coming comrades from foreign lands- an equivalent to the School of the Americas where the U.S. invested good money into the education of people like Manuel Noriega.
So anyways… young Ilich was really down and out after getting the boot from school. He thought about joining a dixieland jazz band but decided to commit his life to the liberation of palestine instead. To do that he’d need a new look and a new name… Carlos.
Carlos bought some shades. Carlos got a plaid tie and took some pictures of himself and applied to the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. The PFLP, which is today the second major portion of the PLO, is and was considered a terrorist organization because every so often they blow something or someone up. The party, if you will, was started by George Habash while he was a medical student. Habash and the rest of his family lost the right to their property when the neighborhood was ethnically cleansed in the 1948 birth of Israel. Habash finished school in Lebanon and proceeded to make a flag for his Marxist socialist liberation party which pretty sums up the main goal in a Communist-Prince sort of way.
Cult and Paste in no way approves of the PFLP’s violent methods or tactics, but does kind of like the flag, especially if it was instead hoisted lengthwise and colored green… like so
Introducing the new and improved eco-friendly non violent artists formerly known as the PFLP.
So Carlos rolls with the PFLP for a while, killing, playing the local lotto, thinking big and ordering room service…. He tries to blow up Radio Free Europe in Munich. Fails. He tries to blow up a French nuclear power station. Fails. But that doesn’t stop the jackal myth. Every time a bomb goes off or people are taken hostage, Carlos calls into the local Lite Rock Radio Station and takes responsibility. His claims and disclaims have now put him on the radar of Interpol- MI5, The DST, Mossad, the CIA- all convinced he’s a Soviet spy. The Soviets think it’s hilarious but they’re looking into it. Some police come after him. He kills them. Cop Killer.
Now Carlos is drawing a lot of heat from the international wanted posters, and he’s not really putting out any good terror work. He’s washed up. He keeps getting deported… Hungary, Jordan, Syria… finally he ends up in Sudan in the early 90’s and this is where things take a turn for the absurd.
With so many years on the run, Carlos has developed varicose veins…. on his scrotum. As you may or may not know, the veins of your circulatory system are responsible for transporting deoxygenated blood back to your lungs. Veins aren’t muscular, They have a lot of elasticity.so much so… that they require valves to kind of “work” the blood back to the heart. Sometimes these valves malfunction and you end up with traffic jams called varicosities.
Carlos has traffic jams in his scrotal sac. Now I can’t say whether it was a genetic predisposition, perhaps a latent, untreated venereal disease, or just another wild and crazy CIA secret plot to bust up a terrorist network. Maybe Carlos was in pain. Maybe he was just vain. Whatever it was… He went for an operation and when he woke up his world was turned upside down.
Imagine your post operative horror…
THE BLUNDERING JACKAL AND HIS UROLOGICAL DOWNFALL:
a two act play for 4 characters
SCENE I (CURTAIN OPENS on the scene… Carlos spread eagle on a bed in a bungalow in a scooby dooed Sudanese vacation resort. Carlos is in a lucid state coming off the anesthesia, he discovers he’s tied to a bed and his family jewels are wrapped up in a melon sized turban… the sound of the door being broken down…
(ENTER PERSONAL BODY GUARDS from stage left, guns in tow and a sedative in large, shiny syringe… standing over the bed)
BODY GUARD I: Listen Carlos we’re really sorry but the French want us to turn you in and… well they’re paying us double,
BODY GUARD II: Yeah
CARLOS: WHAAAAA? Sunglasses! Rosebud!
BODY GUARD I: Carlos, really man, my wife has a baby on the way and i could use the money…You can’t go on like this. Check yourself.
SYRINGE: well HAHAHAHAHAH, this is gonna HAHAHA hurt us a lot more than you, and just hold still so I can get my HAHAHA needle in….”
(Camera swings to syringe belly dancing as Carlos fades out… FADE TO BLACK)
Intermission. Run Carlos’s Infomercial from the 1975 OPEC thingy
ACT II- (Curtain rises on a sunny French courtyard jail and camera slowly crops in on a high barred window with Carlos wrapped in a blanket hugging the bars. Some Edith Piaf music echoes in the distance)
CARLOS: Do you know who i am? I’m carlos. carlos the jackal. I want my sunglasses! AUGRRRRHHH!
Carlos is now slowly losing his mind as he serves a life sentence in the scenic Clairvaux Prison. A prison that may or may not still have a functional guillotine.
Sucks to be Carlos.
Well… to end on a bright note, it’s not all that bad in French prisons. I mean there’s free health care and i think that covers minimal cosmetic stuff. Mr. Sanchez has reportedly converted to Islam and is a regular pen-pal with another Venezuelan compatriot mr. hugo chavez. Hugo the Chav committed a real faux paux at a recent OPEC summit when he called Carlos, “El Chacal”, a real amigo.