Saddam challenged Bush to a debate, and he readily accepted. The start of the Bush-Saddam debate was quite rocky, with Saddam making objections to the format early on.

"Bush has a bat!" Saddam exclaimed, "No one said he could bring a baseball bat!"

"Uh-uh," Bush responded, "I said I was going to wear a cowboy hat and carry a baseball bat for the debate, and you said it was okay."

"I remember agreeing to the cowboy hat... but not the bat. You're going to use that to break my kneecaps!"

"That's crazy talk! You're a crazy dictator! All that comes out of your mouth is crazy." Bush then started up an electric razor.

"Now he's got a electric shaver!" Saddam yelled, "He's going to break my knee caps and then shave off my mustache as a trophy!"

"You really should be named Crazy McCrazy, you crazy dictator," Bush responded indignantly, "When you talk, all you do is heap crazy upon crazy."

"In Saddam's defense, President Bush," piped in the debate's moderator, Jim Lehrer, "You do have a box labeled 'Trophy Saddam Mustache' sitting next to you, and you did just open it as if you’re anticipating placing a trophy Saddam mustache inside it."

"That box is just a good luck charm I was given by my father. Can't we get on with the debate?"

"Okay. You get the first opening statement, President Saddam."

"Fine." Saddam pulled out some index cards. "You imperialist Yankee scum, why do you oppress - AHH! MY KNEECAPS!"

In other war news, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld appears to be growing more and more impatient with the delays over an attack on Iraq. Close associates describe his anger as "great" and his wrath as "terrible".

"These are pictures of happy Iraqis," Rumsfeld said as he showed some slides of an Iraqi family sitting down for dinner and smiling children playing in the streets. "Do you know what happy Iraqis mean?" Rumsfeld asked the clueless reporters. He paused a moment so they could stare back at him like deer trapped in headlights. "It means THEY ARE NOT BEING BOMBED!" He put up new slides of the ceiling collapsing on the family and children running from explosions in terror. "These are artists renderings of what the Iraqis should look like. These are pictures of glorious war."

"Isn't one of the reasons for war with Iraq to help the Iraqi people?" ventured one of the reporters.

"WHAT!" Rumsfeld yelled, "That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Who gave you such a idiotic notion?" He then pointed an accusing finger at National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice. "Was it you?"

"Oh, come on, Donald," Rice sighed, "I was just telling you this morning how much I hate Iraqi children."

"I know. It must have been the nancy-boy Colin Powell." Rumsfeld shook his fist in the air. "He wants to do nothing but coddled the enemy. Do you know he approved bombing of just one of the five orphanages I had on my list? If he were here, I could just strangle him!" He then eyed the reporter you asked the question. "Maybe I'll just strangle you instead!" He grabbed the reporter by the neck, but dropped him after a second. "It's just not the same."

"Why are you so anxious to get to war?" asked a frustrated reporter, "Don't you worry about all the uncertainties?"

Rumsfeld rolled his eyes. "Everything is an uncertainty. How can I be certain this gun is loaded?" He then pulled out his luger and shot the reporter. "Guess it was loaded... but can I be certain it's still loaded?" He looked at the reporter lying on the ground. "Hey, I asked you a question! For pete's sake, reporters these days don't know how to take a bullet. I once saw Teddy Roosevelt shoot a reporter five times, and the guy still came back with a follow up question."

Rumsfeld's eyes grew distant. "Of course, we were all tougher back then, because, at any moment, a press conference could be broken up by a Mongol horde. I remember that's how my eighth birthday party ended, everyone fleeing as sword wielding Mongols cut at our party hats. After a horse hoof destroyed my cake before I even got to blow out the candles, I vowed that day I would see all the Mongols dead." A small tear fell from his eye. "Ah, the innocence of youth." Rumsfeld then regained his composition. "Any other questions?"

"You scare me," remarked a reporter.

"That's not a question, but very perceptive of you. Now, I believe Dr. Rice had some new hardware to tell you about."

On screen appeared a giant mech armed to the teeth. Also, an American flag was prominently painted on its front. "We call this our War Machine," Rice explained, "It stands at about ten stories tall. You'll notice we've drawn a hapless foreigner about to be crushed by its foot to give it scale. Its function will be to smash through villages, crushing buildings as it blares 'God Bless America' on its giant speakers. This is all part of our effort to make lesser cultures fear America in the same way they would fear the gods."

"Who would drive such a monstrosity?"

"No one. It has a programmed AI to make sure it only attacks the enemy."

"Are you sure it won't some day turn against us?" asked a reporter, looking frightened.

"The two programmers who hacked out the code over a weekend long programming marathon assured me that would never happen." Rice smiled for a moment, but then heard a beeping sound. She pulled a PDA out of her pocket and looked at the screen. "Apparently the War Machine has gone berserk and destroyed most of Massachusetts. Those programmers better pay me back for the box of chocolate donuts I gave them."

"Actually, I told the War Machine to do that," Rumsfeld said, "I hate Massachusetts. So did it get all the Kennedys?"

Rice checked the PDA. "No, it says here that Ted Kennedy escaped."

"We'll have to take him down ourselves. Get me my Ted Kennedy gun."

Rice opened the gun cabinet that Rumsfeld always had on hand at his press conferences. She pulled out a large rifle. "Is this it?"

"No! That little thing is an elephant gun. I need something that can bring down a Ted Kennedy."

She then took out an even larger rifle and handed it to Rumsfeld. "Here you go."

Rumsfeld smiled. "The hunt is on."

In unrelated news, Ted Kennedy, his natural habitat destroyed, is roaming the countryside confused and angry. Reports are that he's ransacking households, looking for food to consume and money to steal for liberal boondoggles. One area man reported that his liquor cabinet was completed decimated. Police warn that Ted Kennedy is crazed and extremely liberal and that no one should accept a ride home from him under any circumstances.

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In My World
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