They’re dancing in the streets. They’re pulling down statues. Stripping hospitals.
They’re looting. Everything’s great. Everything’s been stolen. Nothing works.
It’s a whole new ballpark. It’s Tommy Franks. It’s Ballpark Franks.
Saddam’s in Syria. Saddam’s in drag. It’s April. It’s August. Black September.
A red alert. Mellow yellow. Blue on blue. Everything’s cool.
Everything’s lousy. We’re outta water. Where’s the beef. What’s your beef.
Stealing fridges, toilets, tires, bath tubs. Stripping light bulbs. Robbing neighbors. America’s in for the long term, counting the days, cutting our losses.
Humanitarian aid is flowing in, stuck in the harbor, rotting on the docks.
It’s anthrax, smallpox, Saddam in a drum. He’s cowering in a tunnel. It’s his
triple. Howdy Doody. Ted Koppel. Don1t go away. We love you. We hate you.
The President’s out in front, back in Crawford, looking to the future. It’s a historic moment, a glorious victory, another Vietnam. Let’s ask a retired general. Let’s ask
Ari Fleisher. Why now. Why not now. It’s Terrik Azziz. A Chinese disease.
A roadmap to peace. The Highway to Hell. Are you happy. Are you sad.
We want freedom. We want jobs. We want free hand jobs. Let’s hear from Peter.
Let’s hear from Wolf. Let’s hear from Peter and the Wolf.
There’s a power vacuum. A new sheriff in town. There’s a sheriff in town with
a new vacuum cleaner. Terrific. We1ll be right back. Stole my microphone.
Iraq should be rebuilt by the world community, by the United Nations, by
innovative market measures, by the coalition of the willing, by Halliburton and
Bechtel. What’re you thinking. What’re you feeling. It’s getting closer.
It’s chaos, anarchy, a crisis. Need a police state. What’s Bush’s number.
The new government will be based on elected officials, a tribal council, recycled aristocrats, American stooges. Remarkable. Hugs and kisses. Loot’s on the ground.
Iraq will be an oasis of freedom, a bottomless pit, one huge pawn shop.
Everyone’s stealing together. Good for business. Good for America.
Here’s Paula. There’s Abdullah. Over to Mohammed. He’s been arrested.
Iraq’s a rich ethnic mosaic, a human rainbow, a stinking cesspool torn apart by racial hatred. More in a moment. The Marines are calm and rational.
They’re paranoid and trigger-happy. She’s praising Allah. He’s praying to Jesus.
Looks bad. Looks great. Instant Coverage. Breaking News. The same old crap.
They’re a great people. They’re fencing their loot. They’re burning our flag.
It’s under control. We’re surrounded. Taking incoming. Think I’m hit.
Sunset. Sunrise. 2:17 A.M. Back to Paula. Over to Heidi. Back to Paula.
They’re stealing televisions. TV shopping. The American way.
WALLACE GAGNE lives in Tokyo. He can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org