I always think islamic state when I see that gesture.
This got me thinking, and more importantly, sperging, on a topic I know a teeny bit about. Sam doesn't have to fight imaginary internet enemies through the courts via her
Death Note coloring book. She can fight
real enemies, Russian ones, for the glory of Islam! She could be featured in the public Red Notices from Interpol, wanted by Russia, for "participation in the activity of a terrorist organization" and or "an illegal armed formation." Let's see how this could have gone for her had she made
better different decisions earlier in life.
Now, this is an option she might have qualified for in her youth. Ksenia here started out plain Jane, er, Masha, but with some hair dye and some makeup, she's pinup art for recruitment! Literally: she's charged with participation, as well as "public appeals for extremist activity and public justification of terrorism." And she's from Sakha Republic, aka Yakutia, aka the coldest inhabited place on earth. Podunk Indiana need not have been a limiting factor!
(All shitposting aside, I left out the photo where this young woman is clearly sitting on a bed, and almost certainly naked--the photo is thankfully cut off. That's too disturbing, and I don't care if this girl joined willingly; these people are monsters.)
Where was I? Sam didn't have to go into PR, though she does have that printer nowadays. She could have just been a young woman getting in on the ground floor of a good thing. Well, she'd have needed to wear formal attire first. But look, guns! We saw that one video with the handgun and weed, and her letter to the guy at the firing range...she loves guns! And in a transformation not unlike Sailor Moon, she'd get some very useful attire to cover 85% of her face and 100% of her fat. And hair.
What? I'm
helping!
But I suppose we should be more realistic. Had Sam fought for Islam earlier on, it would have looked something like Irada here. Built for comfort, not for speed, despite the adidas go-faster stripes:
Okay, enough dreaming of past, non-existent glories. Sam's older, wiser, well, older anyway, and she has that pricey dayplanner and her three-ring binder of printed out pages from the internet. Surely that means she can leave the Islamic mail room and enter the upper eschelons, wherein she catches a charge for "Organization of activity of the terrorist organization and participation in activity of such organization." Organization! Surely Sam's got this. Were she a little different, it might look like these women. We have options of dowdy, portly, and multi chinned, or (finally!) thinner, but monkey-handed, brandishing a Kalashnikov. Either way, 404 lips not found:
But I need to face facts. Sam would look like Ashura here, jowly, red face sheened with oil, Kahlo-esque unibrow, still visible greased hair. But in my fantasy, apparently she has a thicker and more intact hairline, so I'm throwing her a bone there:
Finally, she needs a steadfast companion (not lover, sorry Sam, Mohammad forbids your kind of love, both nose-to-puss and BBC). Yaba could also join! I couldn't find anyone in the right age range as fat as her (that's reserved for the babushka crowd, aka Sam). So imagine Fatima (I shit you not) here on the left, with the eyes of the other two, and maybe Irada's headscarf. You'll catch my drift. Yaba can see fighting on two fronts, so that should be useful; just hand her an emotional support Nintendo DS and send her on.
By the power of Greyskull For the glory of Dagestan, ladies!
