A Nation on Foreign Drugs words from Saddam Hussein’s Testimony

I swear during those first few weeks of the war in March, I was on the edge man. I was running from underground bunkers to friends houses in desperate fear, jittery as hell. That’s when I resorted to crack. See I had been on ecstasy leading up to the war. I was acting as this whole thing was a non-stop dance party. My brigade and I attended all night raves in Baghdad, Najaf and Um-Qasar. The summer of ‘02, those were the best days of my life. What I was telling the international community, especially my buddy George, was vague to say the least. My conversations were a charade. I had been partying on ex for about a year all over Iraq before the war started so of course I’d be delusional and nonsensical. I mean c’mon I knew I had no WMDs, hardly any army and not many true civilian supporters rallying behind me. In my right mind do you think I’d challenge those Texas, steak eaters to a duel? Trust me I’ve tried before. My country men, them bastards! They were just jealous of the paparazzi shots, in Extra, Extra Iraq, of me out and about, with numerous men and women hanging off me like appendages. I was a wonder of the world; the Hanging Garden of Saddam. We took Saddam bomb shots all night long and is was on me too. Hell we were drinking off American money and trust me there’s no better way. Soon though, those threats became reality. See, on ex, life is a fantasy. So when the bombs came over Baghdad my battle ship sunk. Reality struck. When inside the bunkers, we had no legit ‘shine. We had no ex, no good pine in the dash, nothing. So my generals and I resorted to lacing our Afghani opium with what would end up killing me. We began to run out of the opium, so we bolstered it with some crack that those damn Iranians gave us for free. Never, ever take free crack. Unbeknownst to me it was American Crack – the worst, shittiest drug out there. Those Iranians wanted us to suffer. I had no American money left so I resorted to being a crack head whore. It ripped us apart; my party member loyalists began to fall victim to the crack attack. They were killed, strung out or even became so desperate they ventured out for a fix during the day and were caught by U.S. forces. I remember in November of 2003 beginning to become extremely desperate. I’d sell myself for smallest rock possible. We had to make runs to the Iranian border and I’d pleasure Shiites any which way. You’d think they’d be satisfied with 6 wives and their cousins, but no, not the least bit. I even resorted to looting my mansions and sold some Iraqi artifacts in order to get high. I had no care in the world. Eventually I was so unaware of what was going on I fell victim. Hearing reports of U.S. forces closing in on me, I hid in a spider hole for 18 hours. Man I was bugging out, I hadn’t taken a hit for 3 days and had been up all through that time as well. I was caught. My addiction to American crack caused a ripple effect. Soon Iraq crumbled. I had done so much for this nation. I created the Iraqi party scene, which was the best spectacle, this side of the Tigris. It was a fuse between Euro raves and Middle East hookah parties. The bloody, ego driven Americans wanted to obliterate my legacy on my Iraq. They destroyed what’s left of the Iraqi dance/club scene. Late night tipping in Tikrit, La Bamba-ing in Basara and Krumping in Kirkuk was no longer possible. The Americans burned all my recordings of my ground breaking dances – the Najafi Knee Jerk and the Basara Bounce. The world will never know. They are cutting me off. My final words to the whole world and especially the poor, down trodden U.S. citizens and disenfranchised youth: AMERICAN CRACK KILLS!