|
Ace In The Hole This all started with Osama being wanted dead or alive. But as it turns out, a Baathist in hand is worth two in the bush. Gotta give your props to GW for not keeping Saddam’s capture a secret until, say, late October 2004. I’m sure it crossed Karl Rove’s mind. But the point is moot. Christmas came early this year and next. Do you hear what I hear? That was the sound of GW getting reelected. He won’t need hanging chads this time. Calibrate those Diebold machines on the up and up. Jeb can go to bed early. They may even count the black vote this time. All those redistricting shenanigans in Texas seem like overkill now. This isn’t Giants-Eagles, 1978. Strictly four downs and run out the clock. There aren’t enough no-bid contracts and defense spending overcharges in the world to blow this one. Every daughter, niece, and cousin can get busted for illegal purchase of OxyContin with electoral votes to spare. An eleventh hour revelation that the Commander-in-Chief himself once smoked crack will net him Vermont. It was hard to get away from the news on Sunday. My local classic rock station kept playing “We Are The Champions,” “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” and that Guns N’ Roses song that goes “now you’re messin’ with a son-of-a-bitch.” I never pictured the ace of spades as looking so homeless. Or palace-less. I’ve given loose change to better groomed men in the Union Square subway station. With no dry cleaning service, those tacky jumpsuits were the first thing to go. You have to feel for a guy down to his last $750,000. Turns out Hitler had more courage, a superior sense of timing, a neater mustache, a snazzier crib, and better company. Give it up for Mrs. Hussein—she was a hell of a lot smarter than Eva Braun. In the end, Hussein--AK-47s and all--went like a bureaucrat. There was more violence this weekend in Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown’s house. The first hours after the capture were a bit puzzling. Why were they inspecting Saddam for lice? They should have been inspecting lice for Saddam. We’ve looked everywhere for those WMDs. Apparently the only place left was the dictator’s mouth. I kept hoping for Detective Andy Sipowicz to step in there and slap him around. I’ll bet you Saddam’s one phone call was not to Osama bin Laden. One thing is certain—Uday and Qusay won’t be coming down to the precinct to help dad make bail. Most of us are relieved Saddam was caught over there rather than over here. Over here, the arresting officer would blow a couple of Arabic conjugations while Mirandizing the suspect, and he’d be back on the street in 24 hours. Ron Kuby would counsel the evil dictator, with Johnny Cochran and Alan Dershowitz rounding out the dream team. Saddam would become just another guest on the Larry King-Hannity & Colmes-Chris Matthews circuit and butt heads from time to time with Ann Coulter. How long before he’d be spotted on the links with Robert Durst? By April, Saddam would have fallen behind Kobe Bryant, Laci Peterson, and Jonbenet Ramsey in the ratings. And then, inevitably, there would be Saddam’s pilgrimage to meet the Dalai Lama. Fortunately, it looks like Saddam is about to be extradited from Baathist Iraq to free Iraq. You have to hope the Iraqis have the same sense of drama and efficiency as the Italians when Mussolini was caught. Only this time, we want it on Pay-Per-View. But may we have a moment of sober reflection before we tar and feather General Wesley Clark? There is still a lot of work left to be done. Some of us believe that not only must we stay in Iraq, but that we should continue to look for Saddam body doubles, wherever they may be—shopping malls, used car lots, the set of Joe Wicked Despot, wherever. Each capture will make the world a slightly better place and be worth at least a dozen points on the NASDAQ. Zero is the answer. The question is how many prisoners did we take on December 13 responsible for 9/11? So much for the theory that Saddam was running the resistance. The only thing running down in that hole was his stool. There wasn’t enough light down there to play a game of Dungeons and Dragons. Sure I’m ecstatic, regardless of the political circumstances. I was happy when Paul Costellano was hit without ever becoming a huge John Gotti fan. Yes, the next 72 hours or so are going to be like a victorious homecoming party at a suspended frat house. But when the boys are done hog-tying Howard Dean, then what? You see, everyone is entitled to a little mistake. If we’re so exulted now, exactly who did we kill when we flattened that restaurant in Baghdad back in April? Well, whoever you were, sorry. Click here to rant back. |