a poem for the troops and those who suffered

BEFORE I BEGIN, I should explain: this isn't going to make you cry. So toughen up and read!

You thought you'd get a white Christmas;
instead you're in Tikrit.
You spend your day in sand and heat;
jihadis give you shit.

I've got a thought to comfort you--
When all is said and done:
It matters that we got Saddam,
SO NOW LET'S HAVE SOME FUN!

Let's fuck him up just like they would
in Cell Block 84:
We'll dress him in a miniskirt
and paint him like a whore!

Let's drop him off a building's roof
and let his bones heal wrong!
Let's stick hot pokers up his ass
and make him sing a song!

Let's put him in a room with Kurds
and leave him there a while!
We'll let them cut holes in his cheeks
and widen out his smile.

Let's stick a glass rod up his dick
just like some fellas did,
then snap that rod while it's inside!
Result: a bloody squid!

Let's take the fucker on a trip
through every ring of hell.
Let's make him feel his people's pain
so that he'll listen well.

And in the end, when it's all done,
when every finger's plucked,
let's give Saddam some viruses
and TELL him that he's fucked.

Yes, I know your duty's tough,
be happy when I say:
WE STUFFED SOME MICE UP SADDAM'S ASS
AND WE'RE FILMING TODAY!

Written in honor of all the armed services, American and otherwise, pulling duty in Iraq and elsewhere in the world as they fight against terrorism; and in honor of the people wronged by Saddam, all of whom deserve at least one whack at his shins and teeth with an aluminum baseball bat.

All I want for Christmas? Saddam's mustache. And the upper lip it's on.

_