Au Revoir, Mon Saddam, Au Revoir

The big fella bit it last night, and I can't lie, one lone tear dropped out of my right eye. I knew the man well. I used romp with him back in the 80s and joined his family for barbecues in the 90s. Saddam wasn't merely a dictator, he was a chubby man with a thick bushy moustache who was exceptional at Spades. (Yeah right, like I'd try to beat him, LOL!)

But alas, Saddam had outlived his usefulness to the US. He knew it was just a matter of time, and that's why he commissioned a body double to take over the country back in 2002 after he read the US Defense Department's National Security Strategy document. He fled to the small Caribbean island of Tortola, where I'd visit him with Mads and we'd party with Usay and Quday. But he was a shell of the man he was. He tried having a waiter at a night club killed for improperly mixing his margarita, and found that that kind of behavior doesn't fly in country one doesn't rule with an Iron Fist.

So against my advice, he went back, and the rest is history... or is it? Was that crazy man that I saw in that kangaroo court the man I once knew? It didn't seem like it. The only thing this Saddam imposter had in common with the former dictator was their love of Doritos (I once finished off a bag at his place in Tortola, and then feared for my life while he stormed about looking for another one.).

It makes me wonder, if I make a trip down to Tortola, will I see the ol' dicatator sipping margaritas on a beach chair while reminiscing about genocides from an era gone by? He once told me he was very hurt when he found out the US was selling weapons to the Iranians. He said he felt like Stalin when Hitler invaded.

Au revoir, mon Saddam, au revoir.