Sunday, March 30, 2003

We're actually fighting a blubber-gut, lascivious lunatic and I, for the life of me, don't understand why we haven't simply blown his head off. One shot. One kill! I really am concerned that Bush '43 has gone off the rails and now exists in the 'Twilight Zone' dimensions where he's having conversations with his 'selves,' most of whom he doesn't know and has never met before.
Rules of war be damned! We should be inserting special forces people - professional killers who can hit the eye of a gnat from 500 yards with the appropriate rifle - into the population of Baghdad. And with our superior technology and humint (human intelligence) provide those teams with Saddam's location. And with haste and precision we should have one or more of those teams cap Saddam's butt (well, actually blow his head off ...) along with his despicable sons, especially Ouday.
So my biggest problems right now are financial burdens, anxiety from my dealings with D, and stress from workplace pressure.
Given the problems the soldiers in Iraq are facing, my little 'burps' seem neglible at best.
But I can whine if I want to and sometimes do. I wish I could make things right between me D and me and my workplace, but I can't. I just don't have the code.
So I wish you all well, particularly you soldiers who are trying to live another day in the environment of Iraq. Between the warfare, the terror acts and the nasty weather, I imagine you have many more problems than I today. So I wish you divine protection (whatever divinity you choose) and safe return home.
Life's a bitch sometimes, and today, for me, it is. With that, I bid you fondue.