I fell asleep last night with the news on low, graphics of weapons and troop movements and the lay of the land, gradually fading into fitful dreams of “surgical strikes”: the most vivid dream was of a tiny missile coming through Saddam Hussein’s bathroom window, blowing his toothbrush out of his hand as he held it to his mouth. This wasn’t the “real” Saddam, but the stiff caricature of South Park.
As he stood mouth agape, staring at his molten toothbrush on the bathroom floor, another missile came through the window and neatly blew his head off – no other damage, just that repulsive jaunty smile, with the Neapolitan mustache and the businessman’s fedora laying sideways on the floor. Now that would be a “surgical strike.” Would that it was so easy, neat and clean. Ifear for Iraqi civilians but i want their “leadership” dead.