Mo Gadfly, please

   I know I should save this until Christmas (because it's such a gift), but as it is Thanksgiving today's bit involves a man I am most thankful for — Muammar Gaddafi {aka Muammar Abu Minyar al-Gaddafi or Muammar Qaddafi or Moammar Ghadafi, et al}.
   Any spelling you like, I think of him as Mo Gadfly (As in: "Mo Gadfly, please").
  It appears the Libyan leader's most recent foray into Rome was an unabashed attempt to convert a bevy of [hand-picked] beauties to Islam.
  It seems Mo (in town for the UN food summit of all things) made the trip from Tripoli with a bit more in mind than how to feed the starving wretches back home.
  On a Sunday evening, he had a couple hundred fetching femmes fetched for a two-hour sales pitch on the benefits of being subservient to all.
  Sharing his blissful vision of a world where he can dress as snappily as he desires, but females are only allowed eyelets [so they can gaze winsomely as his presence] in full-body robes, the Gadfly assured the girls he was not anti-women.
   Ah, the joys of myopic narcissism. It comes in so handy, especially when hordes of your countrymen risk life and limb to float away on whatever they can find because whatever the outcome it is better than living in Libya.
  Incidentally, his "captive" audience wasn't offered even a glass of water during his lengthy presentation: just $75, a copy of the Koran and a helluva story to share at their next cocktail party.