I am a JADi

Look, I don't know how I got here, and I certainly don't belong here. But the waterboarding was completely uncalled for, in my opinion. That was hurtful.

I have become reasonably friendly with Joe. He's one of my jailers. A bit obtuse, but not sadistic, like some of the others I could name, if I ever get out of here.

"What's your gripe?" asks Joe. "You're a confessed devotee of jihad. What did you expect?"

"That's JAD," I correct him, yet again, "not jihad. They're entirely different animals. 'JAD' is an acronym for 'Joint Application Development.'"

"You're making that up," says Joe.

"I'm not," I insist. "JAD sessions go on for days. People alternately drone or argue ... or argue and drone ... about obscure minutiae. Could I make that up?"

"Yes," says Joe. "If it's so dreadful, how come you're a ... JADi, as you call it?"

"I didn't say it was dreadful," I object. "Did I say it was dreadful? I'm a geek. We love that stuff: the glamor, the raw power, the intellectual challenge, the epic struggle, the mind-numbing boredom!"

"That sounds kind of like war," says Joe.

"Well, ... I guess," I reply hesitantly. "In a way ..."

"Religious experience?" he asks.

"Well, ... a bit," I admit.

"So how is it different from jihad?" he ah-has triumphantly.

"Ah, ha yourself," I reply. "In JAD, there is never a winner."