NBC has fired Peter Arnett for his comments on Iraqi TV. What a shame. He was only telling the truth. Isn't that what a journalist is supposed to do?

Petey and I are good friends. He came by the bunker just last week. And he's such a nice guy! He complimented Uday on his appearance, telling my son he looked good for someone who's been dead a week.

Afterwards the three of us went out for pizza. NBC may not know this, but Petey charged it to his corporate American Express card. Bet the bigwigs in New York are going to be MAJORLY pissed when they find out they paid for my dinner!!

Overall the tab really wasn't that much, since Uday didn't seem to have much of an appetite. He just sat there.

Good thing we left the restaurant when we did. It wasn't even ten minutes when a Tomahawk leveled the entire block.

Anyway, I spoke to Petey a little while ago. He's applying for a job at Al-Jazeera.

I'm writing his letter of recommendation.

The invaders remain stuck about 60 Kilometers outside Baghdad. They should not be surprised. This city has long been known for having the worst traffic in Iraq. Between sandstorms, car crashes, jackknifed tractor trailers, rubbernecking delays, mating camels, and downed Hueys, it's always something.

There have been a number of proposals over the years to widen the Baghdad Beltway, but they are always met by opposition from various nomadic Bedouin tribes screaming "Not In My Back Yard!!" Well, hell, they're nomads!! The whole damn desert is their backyard, for crying out loud! Move somewhere else!

I try to gas them, but by then they've always wandered off to somewhere else.

My longtime Deputy Prime Minister Tariq Aziz and I just finished up an all night meeting. We have been discussing the current progress of the war, its likely outcome, and our future prospects. We also tried to contact UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, but international phone calls are difficult when one is forced to communicate using tin cans and string. Anyway, I personally feel the UN is worthless and we should go it alone. Tariq, on the other hand, feels that the cooperation of other nations is essential for success.

But the real question is, just how long will our forces have to occupy a postwar United States? It will undoubtedly end up being an open ended commitment, depending on how long it takes autocracy to take root in that troubled nation.

We will probably put Republican Guard forces in charge of areas east of the Mississippi River, while units from the Fedayeen Militia will have responsibility for areas to the west. Our seat of government will be in San Francisco, which is already a bastion of support for us.

One sticking point: No one wants New Jersey.

On the way out the door, Tariq suggested that I bury Uday, who remains dead and is beginning to smell just a bit.

Now, if it had been anyone else making such a suggestion, I would have shot them on the spot. But Tariq and I go back a long time, and he is among my most trusted advisors and loyal friends. His judgement is impeccable. I fully appreciate the fact that he would disagree with me only if he were 100% certain of his position.

In light of all that, I decided to merely pistol whip him until he screamed like a camel in heat. Then I pistol whipped him some more.

Just finished watching a Pentagon news briefing on CNN. Two things struck me about it. First, it's obvious that the infidel leaders are frantically trying to put the best spin possible on the fact that we are are winning. Yes, it's true that the invading forces from the depths of Hell have established air supremacy, but the last time I looked, Baghdad was not located somewhere up in the atmosphere. It is down here on the ground. And we control the ground. Granted, it is shaking a lot under the constant pummeling by those 1000 and 2000 pound bombs, but it is still ours.

Secondly, that Victoria Clarke is one hot babe.

Good news and bad news: The good news is that one of my missiles got through to Kuwait City and hit a shopping mall. The bad news is that I was aiming for the Target.... Get it? Aiming for the Target!! HA, HA, HA!

Who says brutal despots can't have a sense of humor?

The Mother of All Battles is almost upon us, and Momma is one big, mean, nasty, foul-tempered woman.

Kind of like a really pissed off Queen Latifah.

Now the Americans are complaining that the war is not going according to their plan. Gee, I'm sorry, I must have lost my copy of the script. This is not Kuwait we are defending this time around. It is our own soil. Even my son Uday is vowing to fight on, and he's been dead since last week. My people may hate me, but they don't particularly care for invaders either.

Besides, I told them the reason you were coming here was to steal their children's internal organs for use in transplants.

Thankfully, dawn is upon us. It has been a long night. I have been unable to communicate with my commanders in the field since yesterday evening because smoke signals don't seem to work when it's pitch black outside. Plus, it has just occurred to me that none of us speaks Navajo.

Word has gotten out that our brave, loyal, dedicated troops are kicking in doors and forcing all males to take up arms. This is another example of the vicious propaganda put out by the western media, which everyone knows is a puppet of the Pentagon, which everyone knows is controlled by the international zionist conspiracy. The truth is that while males over the age of six are being ENCOURAGED to fight on behalf of Iraq, it is NOT by any means compulsory! Potential recruits are given a choice: Join the valiant struggle to repel the invaders, or my security forces will shoot your entire family, your neighbors, the people in your email address book, your goats, and that cute little puppy you bought the kids because they absolutely promised to take care it themselves but of course don't.

So as you can see, it's complete freedom of choice!

With the sandstorms having passed, tonight's bombing has been incessant. They have destroyed three more of my palaces, bringing the total to 57. What a waste of fine architecture, marble, and solid gold toilet seats.... I know what you're thinking, but don't worry: They have built in warmers. I mean, what do you think I am? Some kind of savage? Anyway, I don't know how I'm going to explain all this to my insurance company.

After I discovered that my phone calls were being monitered by the unlawful invaders threatening to install democracy in Iraq, thereby spoiling my fun, I decided to communicate with my military commanders by way of carrier pigeon. Well, that hasn't worked out too well, either. Apparently the troops are so hungry that they end up eating the birds without bothering to read my orders. As a result, I will now be issuing my commands by way of smoke signals. That should be easy enough. God knows we have enough smoke around here. Oh, and if you're wondering, there has been no change in Uday's condition.

Those bastards just knocked Iraqi TV off the air again. Right in the middle of my favorite show, Buffy the Invading Infidel Horde Slayer. She was just getting ready to stake their leader, General Spike.

I also ended up missing Sand Trek: The Next Generation.

Maybe I'll check with Salam Pax to see if he taped either of the shows. He lives just down the street from my bunker and has a satellite dish.

President Bush has announced that his war will cost at least $75 Billion. WOW!!!! I am quite flattered that he is spending all that money on me.

I hope he's not going to expect anything in return. I mean, yeah, sure, I can be a flirt at times, but that's just talk. I'm really not THAT kind of despot.

Uday is still dead.

I have just received word that the citizens of Basra are revolting.

So what? This is nothing new. Those Shi'ite muslims have never been particularly fond of bathing.

Thank Allah my computer is up and running. I just read in the online edition of USAToday that Delta Force commandos have tapped into my phone line! Good thing the Americans have a free press or I would never have found out! I shall begin using carrier pigeons to communicate with my subordinates.

I used to complain that AOL sucks, but to their credit, I still have internet access. It's slow as molasses in a January sandstorm, but at least it's working.

I'm tempted to email North Korea's Kim Jong-il for reinforcements, but he'd probably just go off into one of his nonsensical rants again. I think the Syphillis is beginning to effect his mind.

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.

Here's a story that says there are a number of websites taking bets on when I'll die. Careful what you wager. In fact, if I were you, I'd start taking bets on how long it will take for the INVADERS to surrender to ME.

There is an old saying, "It ain't over till the fat lady sings." And she's in Baghdad at this very moment clearing her throat.

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.

Once I emerge triumphant from the current brouhaha, I'm going to need a new cabinet. Most of the members of the old one are still buried in the rubble of my command bunker. And since it's obvious that it was a highly placed spy that gave away my location last Thursday morning, I'll have to execute not only the surviving cabinet members, but everyone else I know. Then I'll execute everyone they know, and then I'll execute everyone THEY know. It's kind of a three degrees of Kevin Bacon thing, if you know what I mean.

Consequently, I remain on the lookout for new, potential cabinet ministers. Prior experience is not necessary, since I'll be making all the decisions myself. What is required, however, is a shared hatred of the United States, its system of government, and all that its flag represents.

That's why I tuned in to the Academy Awards show last night. Where else can one find a greater concentration of America bashers than in Hollywood? Outside of Paris, I mean.

And I was not disappointed! The man who most caught my attention was Michael Moore when he won for best documentary. Okay, that's a stupid category, and the man looks like a homeless goat, but I found his acceptance speech both moving and inspirational. He referred to Bush as a "fictional President" and called the current conflict a "fictional war." From where I'm cowering, it doesn't look TOO fictional at the moment, but it's the thought that counts. By the time he finished, I was openly weeping tears of joy. I don't normally show such emotion in front of my closest aids, but they'll soon be dead, so who cares?

When the time comes to rebuild Iraq, I shall name Mr. Moore my Minister of Propaganda. Of course, he will have to shave and get a haircut first.....