Wrongness in the form of Saddam's blog
Here's some excerpts:
Well, I've almost used up all my Scuds, which is actually pretty good, since I didn't have any to begin with. HA HA HA!!!! Anyway, I better stock up for what promises to be a long seige. I'm going to head over to my favorite store for supplies.

They're bombing me again. I can wait them out, though. Sooner or later, they're bound to run out of bombs.
This whole situation points out the fundamental problem with democracy: Every few years they have these things called elections.
That is not fair to dictators like me.

:: Sunday, March 23, 2003 ::
My son Uday is not looking too good. I have had propped him up in a chair in the corner ever since we dug him out from under the 50 tons of collapsed concrete and steel. I had to use a bicycle pump to reinflate his body, which actually worked better than I expected. But now he just sits there. I talk to him, but he won't answer.
One of my cabinet aids, Abdullah, said that's because Uday has been dead since that initial missile strike Thursday morning. I thanked Abdullah for volunteering his opinion, then shot him. I don't need negative vibes like that. Not at a time like this.
On the bright side, I have been informed that we have captured some POW's. See? I'm feeling better already.

:: Saddam "No Nukes Here" Hussein 8:56 PM [+] ::

That last bombing raid caused my son Uday to fall out of his chair. I had to lift him back up and duct tape him in place. Granted, he's still dead, but I think he's getting better.

I asked Uday earlier to clean up some of the debris lying around the bunker, but has he? No! He just stays in that chair, slumped against the wall. If it weren't for the duct tape holding him upright, he'd be srawled all over the floor. Sometimes I wonder if he is truly a product of my loins, or if his mother cheated on me. I would ask her, but I can't remember which of my wives bore him.
He's always been a little lazy, but this is ridiculous. I can't help but feel he is taking unfair advantage of this whole being dead thing.