Whither Arafat?

I was so glad when Yasser Arafat finally died that I haven't given much thought to what's become of him since; fortunately, I can rely on others in the blogosphere to do my thinking for me. Back in November, it seemed James Lileks might be on the right track -- "I am content to know he is not in Hell. Nope. Arafat did not go to Hell. He boards the ferry, yes; he makes it halfway across the River Styx, yes. Then the ferry blows up. Ten times a day for eternity. For a start." Then, on June 7, he had another lead -- "If there is a hell, Arafat is being blown up and disassembled – with hot staples – every 27 seconds."

Now the speculation can end. Laurence Simon, of This Blog Is Full Of Crap and 100 Words or Les Nessman fame, has located the erstwhile terrorist. He's been reincarnated as a squirrel and yes, he's still nuts:

He was gone.

And then he was back.

Yasser looked around.

No Paradise. No seventy-two virgins. No throne of Allah.

"What is this madness?" he wanted to say.

It came out as: "Chitter!"