Saturday, December 18, 2004

Back to the S**t (with apologies to Millie Jackson)

Yes, I'm back in Iraq. Now it's cold and sometimes rainy, so the craplakes are overfed with rainwater, keeping them from even slightly evaporating off of the streets. The folk in the northeastern part of Sadr City are still surly, ignorant, and filthy, but they have apparently calmed down - slightly - since I left in late November. Right now they are in the midst of a remembrance celebration for Mohammed Sadiq al-Sadr, killed by Saddam in 1999, and father to Muqtada al-Sadr ("Mookie"), the doughy, monkey-brained spiritual "leader" of the bands of Shia criminals that plant bombs in the road and beat up women for patronizing beauty salons. Perhaps I'm being a tad too oblique: I loathe Mookie, and if I had the chance I'd feed his writhing, pudgy body to hungry feral pigs. His "resistance" has fairly well destroyed what little the people of Sadr City had, and it has kept US-led reconstruction efforts from proceeding at an acceptable pace. Of course, although the majority of his hysterical, hyperventilating followers live in squalor so profound that even Sally Struthers would run out of tears if she witnessed them, Mookie himself doesn't even live in the city that bears his name. Too nasty, I guess.