I am almost beginning to feel sorry for the American occupiers. They work so very hard at finding me, yet they always keep coming up empty. Sure, they come across clues that I had just been somewhere mere hours before--dirty laundry, empty gum wrappers, puddles of chewing tobacco spit, mustache clippings, crinkled Dixie Chicks posters with unidentifiable stains on them, used condoms--but never me, myself, or I!! I imagine it must be quite frustrating!! If they weren't in my country illegally, tearing my sh*t up, and making an unbelievable mess of things, I might just be willing to shed a tear for them.

Did I just say that? I must be getting soft in my old age. Um, I mean, my young age. I'm only 39. Really. What? You don't believe me? Maybe you'd like to come over here and correct me to my face? Oh, wait.... you'd have to find me first!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!! You silly infidel ninnies do amuse me at times.

Granted, they did find my sons, but those idiots deserved to be found. What in Allah's name were they doing cruising around Mosul in a frikkin' BMW, for Christ's sakes!?! I mean, for Mohammad's sakes!?! Most people in this country ride mules and camels, and they're laying rubber up and down crowded city streets in a finely crafted expensive German driving machine, trying to pick up chicks!?! No wonder they were recognized!

Now me, I blend right in with this '73 Chevy Vega. And the constant cloud of smoke spewing out the tail pipe serves to further obscure my true whereabouts.

Anyway, the Americans have searching for me all day long in Tikrit and coming up empty. Oh well. Such is life when you're part of an unwelcome illegal occupying force.

----------Dana Summers, Orlando Sentinel