Michael Z. Williamson
  • The Very Secret Diaries of The War in Iraq

    The Very Secret Diary of George Bush:

    Jan 5: It took me a while to figure out why the pencil wasn't making any marks. Then Rumsfeld caught me trying to write in this, took the pencil from me, and said "the pink thing on the end is the eraser... you use the other end to write with." V. glad of Rumsfeld. One of those who thinks for me.

    Feb 1: Used eraser to rub out several sections of 1st, 2nd, 4th and 5th Amendments. Tom Ridge was there. Tom v. happy.

    Feb 11: Am TIRED of being called a cowboy! Can't find my hat or special boots, so it doesn't count. V. annoyed.

    Feb 15: Another day of making faces in mirror ruined by press conference.

    March 12: Condi Rice explaining to me about pending war with Iraq. V. hard to understand. Drew comparison to WWI. Something about Archie Duke shooting an ostrich because he was hungry. Confused. Must ask Rummy for advice.

    March 15: Told Tommy Franks to go ahead and run war. Had thought about running it myself. After all, was officer and pilot for 6 weeks. Tommy used many big words, though. Either he knows what he's talking about or he doesn't. Either way, let him take blame. Just what is a "Giant Mongolian Clusterf%$k" and what does it have to do with invading Iraq?

    March 20: Made speeches, waved several more units off to war. Must admit I like the F-16. Prettiest aircraft. Much prettier than my old F-102.

    Day 1 of war: Started war. Go me! Intelligence says Saddam is thinking of firing missiles. That would be stupid. SAMs will kill them if he tries it.

    Day 3: Saw video today. F-117 great at night. A-10 great on tanks. F-16 great in the air. Still the prettiest, too. Why don't I get models to move around on a 3D terrain map they way they always show in the movies?

    Day 5: Troops taken prisoner. Hadn't expected that. Hope to have them back soon. Remember in Nat Guard when we'd go drinking in Mexico and get arrested. Usually a $20 fixed it.

    Day 6: Saddam launched more missiles. SAMs killed them. Stupid dictator.

    Day 7: Tommy Franks was wrong. Mongolia not involved. Turkey, Syria and Iran thinking about it, though.

    Day 8: Troops have named captured airport after me. So proud. Beat Dad at being historical figure.

    Day 9: Lessee...Camps Exxon, Shell, Mobil, Sunoco and Gasamerica. Running out of names. Better ask Tony what ideas he has. Damn troops too efficient.

    Day 11: Some of our prisoners recovered. SEALs went it. Tommy Franks said something about $20 worth of ammo. Sounds like a good deal. Didn't know Iraqis bartered. Still: always trust the SEALs in a bar fight.

    © 2003, Michael Z. Williamson and Morgen Kirby. All rights reserved.



    The Very Secret Diary of General Tommy Franks:

    March 15: Bush really doesn't get it. Seems to equate his 6 weeks of beer drinking with military service. Heck, Gore and Quayle have more experience. Jackass. Told him it would be a Giant Mongolian Clusterf%$k. He just smiled and nodded. Dweeb.

    March 17: Considering putting troops in Media Center armed with M-60s. Any journalist who asks a stupid question will be riddled. Likely against some international law, though.

    March 18: Screw patience. I'm going to kill someone. Unfortunately journalists are staying out of reach. V. annoying.

    March 19: Screw Iraq, let's invade France. Dominique whatever-his-name-is is a jackass. Who the hell names a boy "Dominique"?

    March 20: So, we're going to do it. Told laundry to put heavy starch on my briefs. Got to feel sharp to look sharp!

    Day 1 of war: With CIA help, launched F-117s to nail Saddam's sons and bag dad, too. Go, me! Baghdad, get it? Air Force Combat Control Team reports SCUDs in southern Iraq. Only an idiot would launch them. SAMs will kill them.

    Later: Hussein is an idiot. Well, we knew that.

    Day 2: Bush whining about wanting 3D models and terrain maps. Managed to placate him with Army Men computer game. Should be entertaining when he figures out how to open the box.

    Day 3: Aussie SAS v. impressive. Should consider some joint exercises and encourage CCT and SEALs to adopt some of their techniques. Not that calling everyone "mate" thing, though.

    Day 4: Not only France, but would like to hold mass execution of journalists. Idiots. Underwear getting slack. Must get more starch from PX. Would using journalists as dumb warheads be against the Hague Convention?

    Day 5: Are ALL Aussies named "Bruce"?

    Day 6: Am suspecting French complicity extends to providing military training. The gross incompetence, cowardice and stupidity on this battlefield have "Frog" written all over them. Germany had Paris three times in last 135 years. Should've just let them keep it.

    Day 7: Royal Marines have v. sharp uniform. Good outfit. Should send them some complimentary starch. Am pretty sure they'll appreciate it and not crack jokes.

    Day 8: Some French journalist keeps offering me "Francs" for info. It's a running joke. Him only one finding it funny. Thinking of changing name to "Deutchmark" just to piss him off.

    Day 10: "War a failure" my ass! Where the #$&^ were these journalists during The Hundred Years War? Underwear update: Stiff and sharp.

    Day 11: Poland's GROM commandoes are kicking ass all over the battlefield, from what I'm told. Asked what exactly it is they're doing. Apparently, even I don't have the clearance to know. Hope to find out soon. Perhaps when they're done here they can help with France?

    Day 12: Am suspecting Rumsfeld is deaf AND stupid. Iraq, North Korea, now Syria and Iran acting up. More than we can handle at once. Will be v. annoyed if we have to fight all of them. Will interfere with plans to conquer France.

    Day 13: Hah! Time to gloat and work on new slogans. "US Army: Even our 19 year old supply clerks can kick your ass!" Not bad. Am debating issuing slogan t-shirts. "Army of one, and that one a woman!" Heck, should at least have one made up for PFC Lynch. Bigger balls on that teenager than on the Iraqi creeps who "interrogated" her.

    Day 15: Definitely need more starch in underwear. Must tell laundry. Thinking of calling Saddam and telling him PFC Lynch's mother Samantha would like a few words with him. Bet he'd wet pants.

    Later: Won bet.

    © 2003, Michael Z. Williamson and Morgen Kirby. All rights reserved.





    The Very Secret Diary of Saddam Hussein:

    Day 1 of war: Still not king. Moustache looks ruggedly Middle Eastern in a Hollywood sort of way. Glad of Hollywood to provide fashion tips as Bad Guy.

    Day 1 update: V. loud outside. Curse the US Air Force. V. hurt. Damned smart bombs. Must be a traitor somewhere. Will conduct more inquisitions. Make note to restock inquisition room, as frogs and rubber wetsuits running low.

    Day 2: V. surprised at news. Thought French were not involved in this war.

    Later: Advisors tell me those aren't the French, those are our troops surrendering. Damn. Son died. Told him he should lay off catamites. "Will give them up for Ramadan" he said. Stupid kid. Where is next son? Next son also dead. Damned Stealth fighters. Not nearly as pretty as F-16. V. dangerous, though. addendum: must remember not to launch SCUDs at Americans. SAMs will kill them if I try it.

    Day 3: CNN surprisingly unhelpful. Will give them the boot. Peter Arnett much better reporter.

    Day 4: How I detest this Bush. Last Bush v. reasonable. I kicked his ass. Didn't I? Note to self: F-16 v. pretty aircraft. Must try to get some on next deal.

    Day 5: Still hurt. Moustache looks manly, however. Still not king. Pretty uniform v. mussed. Being cared for by Information Minister Mohammad Saeed Sahaf. Nice man. Hard to find good lackeys these days. Was easier before I had them purged. Launched SCUDs at Kuwait. SAMs killed them. Sigh.

    Day 6: Shouldn't have hired Nixon's makeup artist. Infidel pig. I look like a corpse. Note: I only look like a corpse, right? Not sure. Memory v. hazy. Sahaf tucked me back into bed.

    Day 7: Have become lost. Don't remember which palace I was supposed to sleep in tonight. Incessant bombing is v. hard on nerves. Have lost stuffed camel. Woe. Sahaf a bit annoying. Keeps giving me sponge baths. Had bath in April. Why this fuss? Moustache looks good, however. Launched Silkworm at mall. Hit. Go me!

    Day 8: Moved to new, deeper shelter. PGMs V. powerful. Constant shaking. Not king yet.

    Day 8, night: Finally found bed. Thought was wife in it, in v. good mood. Too late, found it was Sahaf. Thought wife had learned new tricks and thinned mustache.

    Day 9: Wife caught Sahaf sneaking out in her nightgown. V. angry. Chased him down hallway. Most entertaining.

    Later: She came for me next. V. difficult to explain, in light of incident with Peter Arnett last week. Moustache update: ruffled.

    Day 10: Allah! Is everyone in this shelter except me gay? Not sure about me. Still not king.

    Day 12: Note to self: Don't annoy US Marines. M-4 carbine up nostril v. painful. Taken prisoner. Doesn’t bode well for my odds of being king.

    Day 13: Marine guard v. handsome. Strong shoulders and rugged moustache. Sahaf looked perturbed, tried to slip into cell. Marine chased him off.

    Day 14: Have secretly fallen in love with Gunny. Must not confess. He is an infidel. Woe is me. His name is Sam.

    © 2003, Michael Z. Williamson and Morgen Kirby. All rights reserved.




    Very Secret Diary of a SCUD-B:

    Day 1: I have the greatest enthusiasm for our mission. Ready to launch. Go, me!

    Day 2: Dead. Stupid war. Stupid Patriot. Stupid interception mission.

    © 2003, Michael Z. Williamson and Morgen Kirby. All rights reserved.

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