Beating Around the Bush by Art Buchwald Read Free Book Online Page A

would never live in a bunker.”
    “Hussein has a son named Uday who is a terrible man. Does he have a double, too?”
    “Yes, but we don’t know if the real Uday is a drunk driver or chases Iraqi girls.”

    “He does both. Question: If there are so many Saddam impersonators and we don’t know who the real one is, does that mean we have to carpet-bomb Baghdad?”
    “That’s probably one of Bush’s major options.”
    Just then the bus pulled up. As we got on, the bus driver, who knew Langley very well, said, “Watch your step.”

I Hate Saddam
    I HAVE A CONFESSION to make. I hate Saddam Hussein. I hate him more than anyone in the world.
    I hate him even more than Washington does.
    It was a shock to read in Newsweek that Washington didn’t always hate Saddam Hussein.
    According to State Department reports just released, a secretary of defense, who shall remain nameless, went over to Baghdad as a special envoy in 1983 for President Reagan. His mission was to sell Hussein biological weapons so Iraq could poison the hell out of Iran, which at that time was the United States’ worst enemy.
    The secretary persuaded Hussein to buy 2,200 gallons of anthrax spores, which were shipped from Manassas, Va.; 5,300 gallons of deadly botulinum, which could be loaded into war-heads; and hundreds of gallons of germs that could be used to make gas gangrene.
    When Saddam Hussein was losing the war against Iran, the United States also supplied him with tanks, helicopters and other military equipment.

    I played no part in any of this. Unlike Washington, I hated Hussein long before he got into a war with Iran. I didn’t come late into the Hating Game because every time I saw him on TV, I suspected him of one day turning against us.
    The other day a diplomat friend defended the secretary for not hating Saddam at that time, and even for shaking his hand in the Iraqi capital. He said, “It’s one thing to hate a dictator all the time, but it’s another if you’re trying to help one dictator to beat another dictator.”
    He said, “The fact that you support one side one day and the other side the next day is what real diplomacy is all about. That was Henry Kissinger’s specialty. Suppose Iran had defeated Iraq? Don’t you think the Iranians would try to build weapons of mass destruction?”
    I said, “But what about all the tanks, helicopters and missiles we gave Iraq? Won’t they be used against us if we go to war now?”
    “If they dare use that equipment, they will get a bloody nose from the secretary of defense. It’s hard for him to explain to the Pentagon why he had his picture taken in 1983 with Saddam Hussein.”
    My diplomat friend said, “This isn’t the first time the Americans have changed enemies. Stalin was our friend during World War II, and after the war he became our mortal enemy.
    “After we beat Germany and Japan, we gave them all the equipment needed to make automobiles. And even now we’re urging American tourists to go to Vietnam.”
    “So what do we do now?” I asked.
    He said, “Our plan is to bomb Baghdad in a preemptive strike and force Iraq to surrender. But after the war we’re not going to help them make automobiles. The United States is no longer going to be known as Mr. Nice Guy.”

To Lose One’s Center
    ON SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, I lost my center. That is, the world as I knew it crashed in on me, as it did for everyone else in America.
    Before that day, I had dreams for my children and grandchildren. I felt safe.
    Anything bad that happened was in the movies. Hollywood provided me with all my thrills and fears.
    After 9/11, it took me a week to deal with the shock. I knew that I wasn’t watching a movie. This was the real thing.
    The TV screen became my information center.
    Over and over they played the hijacked planes crashing into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and somewhere in Pennsylvania. I saw frightened people running in the streets. I heard the wild guesses on how many people