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Beware the Evil Dewars

Ó 2003 Bob Payne

The denial, the lies, the hidden, sordid past: All this sickened Saddam. The man had standards, after all. He had let it slide until now, but it was time — past time — to bring out the truth and reveal George Boosh for what he was and what he still is.

It was time to demand that Boosh come clean: He must fully admit the extent of his past and present misuse of alcohol. George Boosh had, he was sure, taken up with the Evil Dewars. (And possibly other whiskey brands.) In the wrong hands, George Boosh's hands for one, these were weapons of mass consumption. If he didn’t come clean, Saddam resolved grimly, Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) had better step in, or he — Saddam — would take the matter in hand.

There was no time to lose. The Christmas-New Year season was already past. The few overlooked, empty bottles in hiding would soon be thrown out. If we were going to catch Boosh sneaking out to the curb at 5 a.m. on trash day, this was the time to strike.

Yes, he realized that everyone else thought President Boosh was a reformed alcoholic who hadn't touched a drop since he was 40. But Saddam saw the signs, even if others did not. He had long been a supporter of AA. You know how those devout Muslims (and Muslim politicians) are.

But a "unilateral intervention" by Saddam, that stuck in the craw of AA leaders. (It is a scientific fact that alcoholics develop tiny craws, that remain with them for the rest of their lives.) If we're going to have an intervention with the subject, they argued, we should follow established procedures, after proper consultation and a vote. What good is confrontation without conversion? Where's the love without the group hug? Besides, before doing anything drastic, they argued, inspections at the White House could first be worked out. Maybe they'd even time one to coincide with the upcoming Bruce Springsteen performance in the State Dining Room and see The Boss.

Inspections! What would that prove? Bottles could be hidden anywhere and emptied or moved around at a moment's notice. Even if you could get access to the President's "palace," you could search for a month and find nothing. Do you think, argued Saddam angrily to the visiting AA official, that you'll find his secret stashes? He probably has them hidden in the Lincoln bust in the Oval Office. As for other evidence of use, this is a nation which can makes laser-guided bombs. Do you really believe they'd be stumped on developing a super-strength mint?

No, he would not give Boosh more time. He would not give up his option for direct, immediate action. He would not get bogged down in an inspection debate when the facts were clear, at least to him and to Boosh himself. This had to come from Boosh’s heart. There had to be a change of thinking and habit, a personal regime change. He would press for a full and complete confession of his current alcohol usage right now. If it was humiliating to his enemy, all the better.

And if President Boosh continued to play his little game, Saddam smiled thinly, he would threaten to detonate his portable nuclear device in New York. ("Wait! I almost forgot! I can't admit having such weapons!") Well then, he would warn of his mighty arsenal of chemical weapons artillery shells. ("Am I crazy?! That won't work either. What good is a mass weapon if I can't threaten to use it!") Maybe he would just hint at it. No, never mind! He had an equally potent weapon. He would destroy Boosh and his lackeys if he did not immediately comply. He would…

= = =

"Your Excellency, …sir…." The slender thirty-ish aide to President Hussein gently shook his shoulder. "You asked me to wake you from your nap at four-thirty."

Saddam woke with a start. Although groggy, he quickly realized, It was only a dream. Today is the day. The ultimatum said he until today to agree to go into exile. He had accepted. In an hour he would be making his public announcement.

His hands trembled, just slightly. "Ali, open my private cabinet over there in the corner and pour me a scotch. Make it a double. The key is on top."

Ali was momentarily puzzled, but walked over and opened up the cabinet. There was an array of finest scotch and bourbon. "Which one?"

"Better make it the Dewars."

Having been advised by friends and spouse alike not to quit his day job, Bob Payne practices intellectual property law in Monterey, California, and writes a humor column for The Carmel Pine Cone.  For more hilarious political humor, please visit him at bobpayne.com.