An open letter from Saddam Hussein
February 17, 2003 ~ 9:06 p.m.
Howdy all! It�s me�Saddam Hussein! Your hero, the spirit that guides your life, your love interest. Kiss my picture.Please? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry bomb on top? Ah, c�mon, you know you want to!
So, yeah�I just want to say, thank you all for sticking up for me in a big way yesterday. All you fine folks in London, Rome, New York, Melbourne. Just � everywhere. Excuse me. I think I need a tissue. Can you feel the love? I sure can. As one of your American actresses once exclaimed, �You like me! You really like me!� Then she ended up playing the wife of a dutiful son of Islam in that flick �Not Without My Daughter� who abandons her husband of the faith and runs back to America, taking her daughter with her. For this, I am declaring a fatwa on Sally Field�s head. You don�t mind, do you? Of course you don�t! The great Saddam speaks and you shall obey! Just ask my own countrymen.
I mean�really! Can you imagine anyone going through so much turmoil and trouble just to rescue their daughter? I mean, a son I could understand, but a girl? What an insane notion! I swear, I will never totally understand you Westerners. You won�t find any of that wasteful sappiness in Iraq, I tell you!
You Americans sure are a funny race of people. You never really outgrow that child�s game of yours�the one called �Simon Says.� Perfect training for you people, though. In so many ways, you�re just like my fellow Iraqis. You let your government tell you what to do, never taking a step unless they tell you to, always following obediently. Pay a 40% tax rate? Who cares, right? Forced to wear a seat belt? Small fry. That�s simply good training for when they come to get your guns so you can�t protect yourselves. And you�ll give in. You know you will. You�ll kiss every square inch of ATF ass as they march out your kicked-in door. America, �the great nation.� Oooh, I�m scaaareeed! You let yourselves get pushed around. You don�t challenge, nor do you question anymore. I like that. The game has changed. It�s no longer �Simon Says.� It�s �SADDAM says.� Boo!
But hey, I love you. I really do. Yesterday brought tears to my eyes. Tariq Aziz ran into the bedroom�and just between you and me, I do wish he�d knock! �and said, �Praise Allah, Master! They�re marching and shouting and pooping right in the middle of the street. And all in your name! These � these Westerners!� My faithful little Tariq. Don�t let his harsh, robot-like delivery on the television news fool you. He�s really a puppy dog. But he just won�t wear that friendship ring I gave him!
So you�re all probably wondering how it is that I speak such good colloquial English. Well, I was interested in learning it�you can�t hope to take over the world without it�but I had good lessons from all the sympathy that poured in from good-hearted Americans and other Westerners when I lost the Gulf War. I�ve chatted long and hard with a lot of you. And basically, your encouragement, combined with the fact that I was left to my own devices for 12 years shows me just how admired I really am.
As for Hans Blix and his gang? Feh! Pussy cats, the whole lot of �em. They don�t frighten me. Mind you, they act tough. They�ll sit around in my palatial gardens drinking mint tea all day, but they still won�t give me back my Hello Kitty cell phone. (Hey, if you�re gonna be evil, I say go the whole nine yards!) Grrr! Apparently, it represents a �security risk.� But they don�t know about all the weapons of mass destruction the French and German embassies are hiding for me. Oops! Forget I said that. Nah, on second thought, don�t forget I said that. You don�t care, do you? Nope. I thought not.
And all those wonderful protests in my honor yesterday just further convinces me that no-one ever seriously cared about Kuwait. Those nogoodnick traitors, scum of the earth! They must die. DIE! DIE!!! BBBBBBLLLLLARRRRRGGGHH! Sorry, I throw up every time I think of them. How dare they reject my plea for Brotherhood? Vladimir Putin didn�t!
But seriously, folks. You Americans still must die. You are not among the chosen. I�m sorry, but that�s just the way it is. Besides, Mohammed promised me a juicy spanking once I reach paradise if I kill you all. You understand how it is.
Well, gotta go. You don�t honestly think I can sit around all day chatting with the likes of infidels like you, now do you? I promised Osama the oil delivery for his cave by the end of today. And I still have yet to answer that lovely letter of solidarity from Robert Mugabe. And what�s more, the bedsheets really need washing, they are beginning to smell something awful. Damn goats.
Baaaa!
With love
(till death do you part),
Saddam
� M.E.M.
|
[Sign My Guestbook]
[View My Guestbook]
|
Copyright � 2001-2007 by M.E. Manning. All material is written by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise by use of footnotes or bylines. Do not copy or redistribute without my permission.
AMERICA FOR TRUE AMERICANS!