“My brother is extremely religious since his troubled youth,” says his sister. “He’s not crazy.”

And so ends the story of Gary Brooks Faulkner – or perhaps it is only the beginning. Coined by the media as “The Rocky Mountain Rambo,” Faulker has been waging nearly a decade of solo clandestine war against Osama bin Laden, traveling numerous times throughout Pakistan, learning their culture, making connections, gaining intel on the 9/11 mastermind’s whereabouts, while doing his best to blend in with the locale. Unfortunately, his mission came to a premature end the other day when suspicious Pakistani officials arrested him after finding in his possession of a handgun, a sword, night-vision goggles, a small amount of hashish, and numerous books on Christianity when trying to enter the country.

Faulkner feared no terrorists on his search for the 9/11 mastermind. Trained in the ancient martial art of Hapkido, he was prepared to take on any terrorist who got in the way of his goal: taking down the man who tried to take down America.

“The fact that he’s been over there six times and has not received a scratch tells me that somebody’s looking after him,” said Scott Faulker, another sibling. “[Gary] could blend in with the local population and go places that our military cannot go. We [the US government] have relationships with the Pakistani government: ‘OK. You can go in this region or you can’t go in that region,’ whereas my brother could go about willy-nilly. He had a long beard. He looked like Taliban. When he wore his robe, he looked like Taliban. The only way you could tell he was not was when he spoke.”

I wouldn’t go as far as saying that he “looked Taliban” – rather, on first glance, one might think he was headed willy-nilly to a Grateful Dead concert. Hell, he even brought some hashish. Who in their mind would bother a Deadhead? I have one qualm though: one might think that speaking the native tongue fluently would be essential to tracking down the most wanted man in the world. Besides, as I understand it, Islamic extremists don’t take very kindly to westerners.

“Who do you work for?” the masked extremist asks, slapping Gary across the face.

“I work for, like, God, man… and Mohammad is his bitch.”

“Ajmal – get the camera and machete. Now.”

“Right on, bro.”

Really though, I whole-heartedly support Mr. Faulker’s ambitions. Much like the man he was hunting, his kidneys are failing him and according to his sister, they have only 9% function, meaning he needs kidney dialysis three times a week. All he wanted, she said, was “to do one last thing for his country before he died.” We sit here sipping on our appletinis, watching bad reality TV, expecting the military to do all of the dirty work, while dying Gary is sword-fighting and flying side kicking his way to bin Laden one terrorist at a time. He didn’t even rely on the crutch of military experiences, although, as his sister put it: “He does come from a family of hunters.”

And as Gary put it: “God is with me, and I am confident I will be successful in killing him.”

I think we all have a little something to learn from Mr. Faulker.

Sources: 1, 2

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