YOUR TERRORISM IS VERY IMPORTANT TO US. PLEASE HOLD.

With our cable, phone and internet service temporarily out for the second time in as many days, I’ve become quite familiar with Time-Warner Cable’s automated helpline. It’s one of the wonders of the modern age, holding a conversation with a machine that understands about 20% of what you’re saying.

It’s even become part of a society that, for all intents and purposes, is based squarely in the 7^th century. Given your emotional state these days, the headline on the NBC News site will either make you laugh or give up all hope of life:

 ISIS Has Help Desk for Terrorists Staffed Around the Clock

Like you couldn’t hate them any more than you do already. If it’s anything like what I’ve encountered, it probably runs like this:

Hello, and welcome to the ISIS Service Hotline. Para continuar en español , pulse cinco. This call may be monitored or recorded for any apostate conversation. Our service is voice activated, or if you want to enter the information on your keypad, press the star key, followed by 666. If you know your imam's extension, enter it now. Or you can tell me your problem, like, “My suicide vest doesn’t fit” or “How do I behead a fat person with a thick neck?” Now, how may I help you?

The ISIS helpdesk's faceless bastards.

What’s astonishing is that my service was knocked out nearly a dozen times this past summer, thanks to nearby construction, yet no Western government has bothered to cut the cord of history’s biggest death cult. Leave it the uber-hackers Anonymous to get the job done, however. I'd  feel safer with any of those guys as president than the current dolts we've got running now.

At the very least, you’d think someone in Washington could prank-call the hotline with personally insulting remarks. I do it from time to time when I feel like picking up a call from scammers telling me that my laptop is infected, or that I’ve just won a free cruise to the Caribbean. Sometimes I just scream loudly into the receiver before clicking off. Don’t tell me I don’t know how to have fun.

I’d be happy to volunteer to serve my country by calling the ISIS hotline with inane comments. “Your sister tells me I’m a better lay than you are.” “Hey, wanna come over to my place on for some barbecued pork? You bring the beer.” “Tell you mother to stop coming around here. My goats don't like blowjobs from anyone other than your brother."

But you know what the sad part is? They probably offer better service than Time-Warner.

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