In 1993, as a warmup for the World Cup soccer tournament to be played the following summer in the United States, I spent 13 days in Qatar. I did not like Qatar much and, after nearly two weeks, I was ready to swim home. There was something uncomfortably curious about the whole place. It seemed that the only real work the Qataris did was hiring Filipino kids to do the real work. They took us out into the desert to watch the camel races. The jockeys were all teenage boys or younger. I found this odd. Then, later, upon further research, I found this horrifying.
This, of course, was before the United States turned Qatar into an aircraft carrier. And it was decades before the Qataris decided to sublet a greedy bastard we elected president, who then launched a war of choice, setting loose every chicken that had been looking for a roost. |
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