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Thursday, March 20, 2003 Page: 9A
Dear Saddam,
Guess what? He wasn’t bluffing.
If you look to your south, you will see the deadliest fighting force ever
assembled.
We have six aircraft carriers in the seas around your sandbox, and heavy
bombers stationed within easy reach. Our troops are massing on your border.
Did you see those leaflets we’ve been dropping, encouraging your citizens
to rise up against you, and urging your soldiers to shoot you in the back?
Those could have been bombs falling.
And do you remember those missiles and bombers that destroyed your country
during Desert Storm? Those tanks, helicopters and fighter jets that laid waste
to your artillery, tanks, trucks and troops? Guess what? We’ve got better ones
now.
We’ve got better soldiers too. Better-equipped, better-trained, and in
abundance. There are about 300,000 of them, mostly Americans, and they’re
coming to get you.
It should be obvious to you by now that we don’t care what other countries
think, or what the pope thinks, or what our own peace protesters think. And we
don’t care if your fanatical friends mount terrorists attacks in response. It
has been determined that we will take on terrorists and terrorism everywhere,
and it has been determined that we’re starting with you.
Realistically, you have no chance. Your soldiers surrender faster than your
good friends, the French.
Sure, you can sabotage your nation’s future by setting oil wells on fire.
But that won’t stop our armies.
And you can provoke Israel, and try to widen the conflict, and then Israel
will bomb you too.
Or you can use chemical or biological weapons against us, but that will
turn the entire world against you.
Every scenario results in your death. Except the one in which president
lets you run.
Alternative not very appealing
It’s a sweet deal. I suggest you take it.
You should be captured, tried and executed like the mass murderer you are.
But Bush is offering to let you off the hook like his old man did, only this
time you don’t get to keep your country.
So gather up your money and that cousin you married and those inbred
children of yours. Grab those torture videos you like, and a case of your
Scotch, and put on your cowboy hat, and get out of town.
Save us a lot of trouble, and your people a lot of suffering.
Buy yourself a ranch somewhere, and amuse yourself by torturing livestock
for the rest of your life. Or die.
It’s not too late to stop it. Even after it starts, you can throw up a
white flag, and I bet our tanks will stop at Baghdad.
You just don’t understand the West – the wild, wild West – as well as you
think. Maybe you’ve watched too many movies in which the sheriff shot the gun
out of the bad guy’s hand.
Believe me, John Wayne was a pussycat compared to Sheriff Bush and the
posse he’s sending.
You’re messing with a real cowboy this time, a trigger-happy Texan, and
he’s not aiming for your hand. I reckon you should ride off into the sunset.
The alternative is a bellyful of lead.
Call Jones at 829-7215 or e-mail caseyj@leader.net.