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Friday 1st August


I have been honored to give the eulogy at Qusay and Uday's joint funeral service. A nervous audience sits in the cool shadows of the mosque breathlessly looking around. Their father sits in the 7th row wearing a Yoda mask and a turban, attracting no notice. I look out at the crowd and begin. "These boys were so good! Ask the family on Musri street who received a refrigerator, a generator and a new roof at their true moment of need. Yes, their 12-year old twins were taken as love slaves for the brothers and, no argument here, were found later in a barrel of acid, but this formerly destitute family can now keep milk for up to ten days before it goes bad." The Yoda mask nodded, impressed. "These were sons of Allah, who kept his word the way they kept their own..." the eyes in the Yoda mask looked sideways to see what his fellow worshippers made of this. "They shared their whisky, porn, coke, horse, you name it, with their bodyguards, slaves and toadies eagerly. I'll never forget the time Uday lent his human ear collection to Habitat for Humanity's travelling museum so that others could have homes." A single cough, and nothing more, told me that the bird was hovering nearby and that I should think about wrapping it up. "Let us say goodbye, then, to these recently reconstructed lumps of clay. Let us decry the use of silver bullets by the United States Army, and by all means let's stop using garlic as a weapon." Everyone shot their Kalashnikovs up in the air as a punctuation mark and I skipped out of there just before the dome fell in, Yoda on my heel.







The Daily Probe is updated every Tuesday
or whenever we damn well feel like it.

Copyright 2001-2004 / All Rights Reserved
No use allowed without prior permission.


The Daily Probe is updated every Tuesday
or whenever we damn well feel like it.

Copyright 2001-2004 / All Rights Reserved
No use allowed without prior permission.