Radioactive Terror Zombie

I know I write a lot about zombies on ye olde blogge (and in general) but the danger that we are all feeling about the possibility of Japanese radiation resurrecting a sort of a glowing Mer-sama bin Laden raises a question that I think we're all wondering:

How did Osama bin Laden become such a pussy?

(Bet that didn't go where you were expecting, huh?) 

I mean, revolutionaries are supposed to die AWESOMELY.  It's part of their whole mystique.  It's why we still wear Che shirts today.  Robespierre got guillotined face-up with a missing jaw.  Nat Turner was hanged, flayed, beheaded, and quartered.  Spartacus was crucified with 6000 of his dudes.

And then there's this asshole.  First of all, he was supposed to be living in a cave and turning down Pepsi because it was "too American."  Turns out, nah, he was living in the Pakistani equivalent of the Upper East Side, in a million dollar bungalow.  What a pussy.  Then, he grabs one of his wives and uses her as a human shield.  THEN he takes one bullet in the eye and goes down.

Zip.  That's it.  No mystique.  No awesome last words.  Lived like a king for a while, hid behind a woman, then one shot and he's down.  I mean, hell, even Trotsky took an ice axe to the head and lived for like, two days.  I can explain that in no other way except that the ice axe must have dinged off his enormous brass testicles.

Speaking of which, can you imagine what kind of dire straits Stalin must have been when he sent a dude with a climbing tool to kill his biggest enemy?  I'm going to imagine it went something like this:

MOLOTOV:  Uh, General Secretary?
STALIN:  Ah, Molotov.  Is Trotsky dead?
MOLOTOV:  Uh...no, General Secretary.

(silence)

STALIN:  What happened?
MOLOTOV:  Well, first we sent a highly-trained Russian Special Forces operative to set a bomb and blow Trotsky up.
STALIN:  And...?
MOLOTOV:  Trotsky caught him.
STALIN:  Uh huh.
MOLOTOV:  Then we sent a pretty solid Ukrainian soldier with a gun to shoot Trotsky.
STALIN:  How'd that go?
MOLOTOV:  He caught him, too.
STALIN:  Hmm.  Then what?
MOLOTOV:  Well, then we sent this drunk Estonian with a knife.
STALIN:  That didn't go well, huh?
MOLOTOV:  Well, he caught him, too, General Secretary.
STALIN:  All right, listen, here's like fifty rubles.  It's all I've got on me.  Go find, like, the next Mexican guy you see holding something sharp and tell him to go kill Trotsky.
MOLOTOV:  Yes, Comrade General Secretary!