Sand Castles

Raise your hand if you'd like to see Saddam Hussein smacked around with a gym sock full of wingnuts and dog crap. I'm no war-monger (I try not to be monger of any kind) but I don't understand why we have to mumbly-dick around?

Here it is in a shell--SCUD-boy over there is nuttier than a pecan pie, he has a bunch of nasty weapons, and he wants to see us all clutching our throats with foam coming out of our ears. Me? I'm with Bush. I think it's time to blow on this guy's soup. Screw the U.N.

I was tempted to say "screw Jessica Lange" but there's a woman in St. George who's got her face all pinched-up over the Boneman. Evidently, she's decided that my little jokes are ruining southern Utah and she's been going through the Local Book trying to stamp me out one phonecall at a time.

If you hear from the Bone Lady, put in a good word for me and accept my apology. If you are the Bone Lady and you're reading this, I don't blame you for what you're doing, but my wife does, so you'd better watch out. She thinks you need to get a life, and what's more--she thinks I need to get a life too.

If you were watching television you probably didn't catch President Bush's speech about going to war. I did happen to catch most of it on the radio, though and I'm convinced--we've gotta put the smack down on Hussein before he gets crazy with the mustard gas and the whole country gets Saddamized. That's just me, though, I have kids.

Bush spent a lot of time talking about all of Hussein's unspeakable atrocities--some so wrong I can't commit them to print. He also informed me that as a safety precaution "old Sod" has a bunch of look-alikes running around Baghdad and that he's forced to sleep in a different Palace every night. I guess he has 25 of these Sand Castles, which boast everything from Miniature Golf to Weapons Manufacturing--and all come equipped with pools full of dolphins that he likes to swim among.

To be honest, I'm a little disappointed in dolphins. If they're so damned smart, why don't they take him out? You'd think that the CIA could slip a "trained" dolphin in the pool that could get up a head-of -steam, nail him in the nuts and smack him under. Problem solved! They're marine animals, you'd think the Marines would have a "Dolphin Squad." The Navy trains Seals?

Better yet, now that we've caught those "serial snipers," I say we fly their crazy asses over to Baghdad. They seem like brave enough guys? We could make it part of the plea bargain deal--nail Saddam and you get life--in Iraq. Hell--they could continue their little family sniper business over there--call it "Son of a Bitch and Son."

I've listened to enough liberal point of view to believe that it's very possible that attacking Iraq will prove to be a mistake, but you can't fault Bush--Hussein tried to kill his dad? If he tried to kill my dad, you better believe I'd be out for blood. I'm crazy like that--I'd get myself shot before I made it out of Utah.

But for heaven's sake, if we're going to get this guy, let's get him--enough with the broadcast warnings. If you're an Iraqi "who's sane" get the hell out of Baghdad. Bail outta there and be ready to duck.

The justification they're giving for all this congressional crap is to make sure that everybody understands why we might have to put our boys in harms way. I guess there's a point here, but if I'm one of "our boys" on the way to Baghdad, I'd prefer that everyone in the world didn't know I was coming. Maybe I'm "old school," but I still think there's something to be said for "the element of surprise."

Why don't we just leave a message on his machine? Beep. "Hello? Saddam? Are you there? Anyway, this is America and, uh, we were just wondering if we might schedule a convenient time to come over and kill you? We'll try you on your cell."

The other day I got to thinking about Hussein and I realized that I had no idea whether or not he was married. My guess is no. No married man could get away with all his crap. Saddam's wife would be all about:

"Well isn't this typical? We finally get a night together in the same Palace, and instead of spending time with me, off you go to swim with your precious fish--whom, by the way, smell much better than you. And I'm tellin' ya, I'm sick and tired of going around with your stupid look-alikes! The only one I ever liked you had shot. And now every one of them is scared and smelly. They all make me sick. Oh and by the way, I found those torture-videos in your sock drawer, and guess what--Sicko? I chucked, Ôem. I chucked Ôem all, you freak'n freak."

Anyway, I guess you heard something about the election Iraq held a few weeks ago. According to Iraqi sources Saddam eked out a narrow victory by the margin of 11 million to 0. True, Hussein was the only candidate on the ballot, but, at the end of the day, it was his political acumen that told the story. He had a killer slogan: "A vote for Saddam is a vote for not being tortured and shot." It must've struck a chord with the voters.

I read somewhere on the internet that the actual vote was 11 million to 1. It turns out that an Iraqi smart-ass known as "The Sandman," wrote-in Idi Amin as a joke. Election officials were amused by the ballot, but none attended the burial.

I think the reason I have such a tough time understanding why we have to mince around about all this, is because I watch too many movies. Maybe what we need is another actor in the White House? He'd know what to do:
Act 1: Brad Pitt slips into Baghdad undercover.
Act 2: Pitt seduces Matta Hari, and gains access to Saddam's inner circle.
Act 3: Pitt blasts his way through alot of mindless lackeys (in self-defense) ventilates Hussein and jumps from a burning building onto a rope-ladder hanging form a chopper.
Epilogue: The music swells, the credits roll and we go home.

Home is where the Bone is, whether the Bone-lady likes it or not.