Maybe he’s pining for the fjords?
There’s gotta be a secret bar in Europe or someplace, doubtless called Ziegler’s, where all the press secretaries and information ministers drown their sorrows and trade stories of the crap they’re told to say. Imagine Mike McCurry buying Al Sahaf a beer and consoling him, telling him that there is life after the information ministry and hey, life could be worse, he could have had to come up with 20 synonyms for “blow job.” Meanwhile, Ari Fleischer keeps badering him for hints on how to keep a straight face.
“Chemical” seems like a weird kind of nickname, doesn’t it?
“Hey, here comes Chemical. Hey Chemical, what do you say?”
I bet all his buds just called him “Kimo.”
Well, if BB was in that building they just hit, this thread won’t have any more material to make fun of. Dammit.
Chemical Ali’s dead!
No, no, no, no, he’s outside looking in.
Speaking of Jerry Springer, BB advises Iraqis in the CNN link provided earlier to “check themselves.” I choose to believe he followed up with a warning that they may end up “wrecking themselves.”
No, no, no! He wants all Iraqi’s to “turn their head and cough!”
I thought (very un-PC) this insult was pretty darn funny.
Excellent work. I hereby appoint you my minister for comedy war tactics.
But humerous as laser guided lumps of cement are, it really has to be anvils for the full comedy effect. Or pianos or safes of course.
Now, how’s the tiptoe tank tracks coming along?
Yesterday, someone on Imus in the Morning remarked that ultimately, Brig. General Vince Brooks himself is going to end up hauling the guy off, who will of course still be insisting that there are no U.S. troops in Baghdad. 
A thousand fleas are nothing. It’s “may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits.”
So the Iraqi Information Minister invited me to drop by for a bit of tea. I was surprised to say the least. I have no idea how he got my phone number. In fact, I had almost hung up on him thinking he was a telemarketer trying to sell me window blinds. I’ve never understood them, the telemarketers I mean. Why would I buy blinds over the phone? I can’t even see what they look like. And it’s not like I’m sitting around my house at 6 PM thinking, “You know, if only someone would call me and ask if I need any window blinds. I’d totally jump on that chance.”
Where was I? Oh yeah, Sahhaf, the Iraqi Information Minister, and his invitation for some tea.
“Isn’t there a war on?” I asked apprehensively.
“War?” Sahhaf asked, “Oh that little tiff. It’s no problem really.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw US tanks rolling into Bagdad on TV,” I countered.
“Just Hollywood special effects,” he assured me. “Look, if there was a war on, don’t you think I’d know?”
Well, that made sense. So I got on priceline and found that tickets to the Middle East were really cheap. I mean, why isn’t anyone taking advantage of these deals? So, it was no big deal for me to fly down for the afternoon.
I’ll admit, the landing was a little rough. Mostly because we didn’t land. The air crew made some excuse about tanks being on the runway. They handed me a parachute and a small bad of complimentary peanuts and shoved me out over Bagdad.
I ate the peanuts on the way down. They were stale. Man, airline food sucks.
You know, despite the Iraqi information Minister’s assurances, I got the distinct feeling there was indeed a war going on. There was smoke everywhere, bodies were lying in the street, people with large caliber weapons were shooting at each other. All in all, it was a lot like LA.
I had a bit of trouble getting to the restaurant we had agreed to meet at but I found that if I ran down the street screaming “They’re right behind me!” folks tended to get out of my way. Than, there was the trouble of actually finding the restaurant. I walked around a bit staring at the address I had written down, but saw no sign of the place anywhere. I just happened to look down and spotted Sahhaf holding a teacup and sitting in what looked like a sixty foot crater.
“Hello my friend!” he shouted at me. “Come on in!”
It must have been one of those hip places that featured underground rock bands. I stumbled down the hole getting fairly filthy in the process. They’d never allow this kind of place in the States, they’d be sued by the first patron that stubbed his toe.
I settled in on a chair that was cleverly made to look like a rock. Sahhaf handed me a teacup.
“How was your flight?” He asked.
“Kinda rough,” I replied. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude. But this teacup is empty.”
“No it isn’t!” insisted the Minister. “Foreigners often make that mistake. Iraqi tea is so succulent that it is nearly invisible!”
I tried sipping the invisible tea.
“Tastes kind of airy,” I complained.
Sahhaf mistook it as a compliment. “Isn’t it wonderful!”
At that moment a huge explosion knocked me off my rock.
“What the hell was that!” I exclaimed.
The Iraqi Minister stumbled to his feet. “Um… a firecracker. Iraqis are celebrating their recent victory over the US. They’re not suppose to set them off within the city limits but you know how we Iraqis like to celebrate!”
“I wasn’t aware they made 2000 pound firecrackers! Are you sure we’re safe here?”
“Absolutely, the war is nowhere near here! The Americans have been slaughtered like baby seals!” insisted Sahhaf.
What seemed like a firefight with heavy machineguns broke out down the street.
“And that would be…?” I asked
“Um… a movie! Yes, we are filming a movie depicting our glorious triumph!”
“Gee that’s swell.” I replied.
An M1a1 rolled by our hole.
“Listen,” I said. “I gotta run. I know these guys so I’m going to hitch a ride. Thanks for the invite!”
“Oh yes, aren’t those SUVs wonderful! Tell your friends I said hi and come back soon!”
He seemed like a nice enough guy, quite off his rocker though. I felt a little bad for ducking out so soon and I didn’t really know the tank crew, but they let me hitch a ride. We shot our way over to one of Saddam’s palaces which seemed to have plenty of vacancies. I would have headed right for the airport, but I could tell by the burning Iraqi vehicles that the commute was going to be a real pain in the ass.
So anyway, that’s my story and it’s just as true as an Iraqi TV news report.
:ivylass wipes away a tear:
That was beautiful, Blackclaw. Did he offer you any crumpets or cucumber sandwiches with your tea?
Well, I have to say that I trust “Baghdad Bob” (love the name!) more than Ari Fleischer.
“Do you think we did right – splitting one brain between the two of them?”
Closed captioned for the hard-of-thinking: This is not an anti-Bush statement; this is an anti-Fleischer statement. The man just makes my skin crawl, and I have a Pavlovian reflex to change the channel on the TV everytime I see his odious and smarmy face. “Baghdad Bob” I find less repellant.
And I know that “Beltway Bob” (err, I mean Ari Fleischer) is a more credible source than his namesake. But still…:dubious:
Pardon my ignorance, but where does the name Baghdad Bob come from?
Rayne Man: "Perhaps he is living in a parallel universe and, in his world, the airport is still in Iraqi hands and the US troops are a hundred miles away and going south. "
Perhaps so, and we should get the UN weapons inspectors to go find the real airport.
Sadly no and I was so distraught with the sad state of the tea and all, I didn’t think to ask.
Does anyone else want to see this guy captured and put on trial. Watching his defense would be a damn riot.
I am telling you there is no such law that you are talking to me about!
This is no court, it is a collection of rascals and losers who should be beaten with a shoe
Pure comedy gold
Hey isn’t that what Milosovec claimed at the International Criminal Court?
As for the subject of the OP, this guy is pure poetry in motion, he’s going to be the next big, wait for it…
Rapper and MC!
Look at the enemy on the run
spanked their asses and took their guns
We obliterated their tanks
and left them vanquised on the Euprate’s banks
A hip a hop, we’re kicking their ass and we don’t stop!
*
It just came to me. He is the reincarnation of Fred Rogers.
I bet that the next time he holds a press conference he will break out into song–
“It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood…”
I bet he wears a sweater too.