At approximately 15:00 GMT FEB. 14th some where in Southern Somalia, I surrendered. The hateful and unrelenting enemy who waged a sustained campaign overwhelmed the last sector of territory I held. I looked up and saw the last prime territory overrun and it looked back with a blank stare.
My lieutenant reconfirmed my suspicions and informed me that I indeed lost the war and to accept my fate. It was hard but my lieutenant had seen many of these defeats from the cursed, unforgiving enemy that attacked many men, some young, and others old. This cruel and nefarious villain had beaten back many of the tools I had deployed at every stage. One by one, they failed. I went from accommodation, to deception and now I am forced into acceptance:
I HAVE A BIDAAR.
Dear FAH
Accept your fate, you will not win against this enemy. You simply delay the defeat hopefully to a time when it will cost you little. My bidar had a nick name, AFGHANISTAN, and was a cruel son of a bitch that hit me at in my late 20z and I fought that son of a bitch for nearly a decade. I used propecia, rogaine, clove oil etc. My lieutenant, my barber, found creative ways of minimizing the bidaar's appearance, weekly hair cuts, fades etc.
So Adeer, make sure you take advantage of the time you have a full set of hair: get married, go out with the nicest chicks, get the good jobs, and take lots of photos for your FB (for use when your head shines like an 8 Ball).
