Bin Laden wording 'indicator' of upcoming attack: monitor

WASHINGTON (AFP) – Osama bin Laden's word choice in the latest audio message attributed to him is seen as a "possible indicator" of an upcoming attack by his Al-Qaeda network, a US monitoring group warned Sunday.

IntelCenter, a US group that monitors Islamist websites, also said that manner of the release and the content of the message showed it was "credible" that it was a new release from the Saudi extremist.

"The Osama bin Laden audio message released to Al-Jazeera on 24 January 2010 contains specific language used by bin Laden in his statements in advance of attacks," IntelCenter said in a statement.

The group said it considered the language "a possible indicator of an upcoming attack" in the next 12 months.

"This phrase, 'Peace be upon those who follow guidance,' appears at the beginning and end of messages released in advance of attacks that are designed to provide warning to Al-Qaeda's enemies that they need to change their ways or they will be attacked," the group said.

In a statement carried by Al-Jazeera television, bin Laden praised the Nigerian man who allegedly tried to blow up a US airliner approaching Detroit on Christmas Day.

He warned the United States that, "God willing, our attacks against you will continue as long as you maintain your support to Israel."

IntelCenter said the audio statement "appears to be exactly what it purports to be, an audio message from bin Laden."

"The manner of release, content of message and other factors indicate it is a credible and new release from bin Laden," it said.

The center said similar language attributed to bin Laden was made in a March 19 2008 condemnation of cartoons depicting the Prophet Mohammed which was followed by an attack on the Danish Embassy in Islamabad on June 2, 2008.

So what comes after that...?.

Et Dona Ferentes (Beware of Greeks bearing gifts) IN EXTENDED observation of the ways and works of man, From the Four-mile Radius roughly to the Plains of Hindustan: I have drunk with mixed assemblies, seen the racial ruction rise, And the men of half Creation damning half Creation's eyes. I have watched them in their tantrums, all that Pentecostal crew, French, Italian, Arab, Spaniard, Dutch and Greek, and Russ and Jew, Celt and savage, buff and ochre, cream and yellow, mauve and white, But it never really mattered till the English grew polite; Till the men with polished toppers, till the men in long frock-coats, Till the men who do not duel, till the men who war with votes, Till the breed that take their pleasures as Saint Lawrence took his grid, Began to "beg your pardon" and—the knowing croupier hid. Then the bandsmen with their fiddles, and the girls that bring the beer, Felt the psychological moment, left the lit Casino clear; But the uninstructed alien, from the Teuton to the Gaul, Was entrapped, once more, my country, by that suave, deceptive drawl. As it was in ancient Suez or 'neath wilder, milder skies, I "observe with apprehension" how the racial ructions rise; And with keener apprehension, if I read the times aright, Hear the old Casino order: "Watch your man, but be polite. “Keep your temper. Never answer (that was why they spat and swore). Don't hit first, but move together (there's no hurry) to the door. Back to back, and facing outward while the linguist tells 'em how — `Nous sommes allong ar notre batteau, nous ne voulong pas un row.'" So the hard, pent rage ate inward, till some idiot went too far... "Let 'em have it!" and they had it, and the same was merry war — Fist, umbrella, cane, decanter, lamp and beer-mug, chair and boot — Till behind the fleeing legions rose the long, hoarse yell for loot. Then the oil-cloth with its numbers, like a banner fluttered free; Then the grand piano cantered, on three castors, down the quay; White, and breathing through their nostrils, silent, systematic, swift — They removed, effaced, abolished all that man could heave or lift. Oh, my country, bless the training that from cot to castle runs — The pitfall of the stranger but the bulwark of thy sons — Measured speech and ordered action, sluggish soul and unperturbed, Till we wake our Island-Devil—nowise cool for being curbed! When the heir of all the ages "has the honour to remain," When he will not hear an insult, though men make it ne'er so plain, When his lips are schooled to meekness, when his back is bowed to blows — Well the keen aas-vogels know it—well the waiting jackal knows. Build on the flanks of Etna where the sullen smoke-puffs float — Or bathe in tropic waters where the lean fin dogs the boat — Cock the gun that is not loaded, cook the frozen dynamite — But oh, beware my Country, when my Country grows polite!

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