Your twin daughters might a little problem with the alcohol, while my sons might go too far with the torturing and killing and such. But, they're still our children and, despite any faults they might have, we still love them, right?

By the way, I understand you don't want me to light the oil fields on fire this time. Like you said, they aren't really mine, they belong to the Iraqi people. I'm sure, years ago when you lived in Texas, you told the people there pretty much the same thing about "your" oil fields. But I can't make any promises. We have to make this "war" look good - if for no other reason than to give CNN, 'Time' and 'Newsweek' some nice photo-ops - so I'll have to do what I have to do, you know?

Well, I better wrap this letter up. My aides are all a-titter about getting me into a secret bunker. For some reason, they've been extremely nervous as of late. I know I can be hard on them at times, which generally makes for a nervous staff, but I think it's more than just that. I could be wrong, I suppose. But, then, I rarely am, so...

Write back, and give me the rest of the details on our pre-arranged 'surrender agreement'. Which day of the war was I suppose to let myself get captured, again? I don't have my calendar in front of me; I think I might've left it at one of the palaces. I'd send somebody to retrieve it later this week but, by then, the palace probably won't be there anymore. So let me know. I'd hate for us to screw up this "war" thing this late in the game, after all the months of careful planning we've both put into it. Just remember my two requests:

No tricks, a la having a soldier "accidentally" kill me in a so-called "firefight". I'm trusting you here, George.

Also, I want better prison accommodations than Manuel Noriega got.

Well, I must be going. Once again, thanks for this "war". I'm only one man and, even with a good-sized army, I can only kill so many of my own people each day. So many enemies, so little time. You know what I'm saying! So, thanks for bringing in your country's fancy killing machines and doing my job for me. I won't forget it, George. I owe you — big time!

Your pal,

Saddam Hussein"

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