[CLUE-Talk] Charlie Daniels comments, article about Saddam's sons.

[Kevin Cullis]

David,

I don't believe every word that comes out of anyone's mouth/article
since there is truth on both sides of any issue, but I am always
searching for the Truth.  So for that matter, I believe most of it and
because I'm sure it has happened I use was Reagan said: Trust, but
verify.

Kevin

On Sun, 2003-03-23 at 10:59, David Willson wrote:
> Kevin,
> 
> This is an interesting article, and I am tempted to believe every word
> of it, but before I do, is there any supporting evidence or outside
> corroboration of these facts?
> 
> David
> 
> On Wed, 2003-03-19 at 23:43, Kevin Cullis wrote:
> > As we begin to see the Iraq conflict begin, I found this and thought I'd
> > pass it on to you.
> > 
> > http://www.charliedaniels.com/soapbox/03/242.html
> > 
> > You know, the liberals may be right, we may be protecting the oil in the
> > Middle East.  But let me ask one question: if Saddam had not been
> > stopped by the first Gulf War and had gained control over 40% of the
> > worlds oil (Kuwait and Sadia Arabia), what do you think he would have
> > done controlling this amount of the world's oil supply?  Given it away
> > to poor countries?  Sold it to help the Iragie people? 
> > 
> > I think not!!  He would have sold it to gain more weapons to control
> > even more of the world's oil.
> > 
> > Read this article about Saddam's sons in the magazine Maxim:
> > 
> > ---------------------------------------
> > 
> > Blood Brothers
> > 
> > Torture, rape, and mass murder are the family businesses. Saddam Hussein
> > taught his sons well. Now the boys are eager to prove to the world that
> > Dad was just a lightweight.
> > 
> > Maxim, September 2001
> > 
> > By Gil Reavil
> > 
> > Dave Cogan
> > 
> > A coming-of-age party is a touching occasion observed in almost every
> > world culture. Some kids get a Camaro for their sweet 16, while others
> > get a gold watch or a fat envelope of cash.
> > 
> > The sons of Saddam Hussein, the Iraqi dictator, got Beretta pistols,
> > full clips, and a sitting duck.
> > 
> > The execution chamber deep in the bowels of al-Nihayyah (Palace of the
> > End) was an ancient room that stank of blood, shit, and fear. Inside, a
> > middle-aged man stood swaying and trembling. In 1979, Saddam Hussein
> > arrested dozens of Iraqi politicians during his bid for absolute power.
> > The public servant in the basement had been tortured for days, his
> > fingernails plucked out with pliers.
> > 
> > The heavy iron door clanked open, and in walked a squad of Mukhabarat,
> > Saddam’s secret police. With them were two skinny teenagers trying to
> > look tough as nails. Anyone moved to chuckle, however, would have been
> > well advised to consider the two guns the boys were holding in front of
> > them.
> > 
> > “Ustav, ustav!” exclaimed the guards, shouting “master” to the two
> > adolescents. Suddenly, the prisoner knew the boys’ identities. His
> > stomach churned with dread. These were the sons of Saddam Hussein: Uday,
> > 15, tall for his age, with bulged-out eyes and protruding teeth; and
> > Qusay, 13, smaller, but the image of his father at the same age.
> > 
> > As an official read a list of crimes, the boys raised their guns and
> > took aim. Before the politician could utter a word, their first shots
> > slammed into his torso, throwing him against the wall. The police escort
> > then drew their own weapons and fired. As dozens of bullets riddled the
> > body, it jerked spastically. The boys kept firing until the body was
> > nothing more than a bloody lump and some tatters of cloth.
> > 
> > Uday, glassy-eyed and giggling moronically, was transfixed by the
> > mangled corpse and continued pulling the trigger on his empty gun.
> > Qusay, eerily calm as if his pulse had not risen above a resting rate,
> > turned to the guard next to him. He asked in a whisper, “Do you have any
> > more bullets?”
> > 
> > The Lion and His Cubs
> > Saddam Hussein is our generation’s Adolf Hitler. In the 22 years since
> > he took total control of this ancient land of 22 million people, he’s
> > conducted a war with Iran, invaded Kuwait, and waged a genocidal
> > campaign against his own people. Saddam’s reign of terror, however, may
> > be coming to a close.
> > 
> > Last year Asharq al-Awsata, an Arab newspaper, reported that the Iraqi
> > leader is terminally ill with lymph cancer. Like Hitler, Saddam has
> > killed every real or imagined rival. Who could possibly succeed one of
> > the most feared men on earth?
> > 
> > The two men maneuvering to rule Iraq are virtually unknown outside the
> > Middle East. They are the two brothers who underwent their bloody rite
> > of passage more than 20 years ago. Uday (“you-die”), 37, and Qusay
> > (“coo-sigh”) 34, are scions of a criminal enterprise masquerading as
> > government. In Iraq it’s called the Issaba. In Sicily it’s called the
> > Mafia. Uday and Qusay are the sons of its don of dons.
> > 
> > Using exclusive interviews with former cohorts, Maxim has pieced
> > together an inside portrait of the two men who are competing to rule
> > Iraq. Their deadly, escalating battle for power may have catastrophic
> > consequences—not just for the Iraqis but for every person on the planet.
> > World leaders are just beginning to glean the truth. The sons of Saddam,
> > they fear, may turn out to be far more dangerous than their notorious
> > father.
> > 
> > The Boys From Tikrit
> > The roughly shorn sheep, its feet tied with cord, sensed what was
> > coming. Its bleating turned into a continuous wail. Eight-year-old Uday
> > glanced around the arid countryside, hoping the screams wouldn’t alert
> > the shepherd. Uday motioned to his playmate to grab hold of the sheep’s
> > head and twist to strangle the animal’s cries.
> > 
> > First Uday made deep cuts in the tendons of the legs and along the back.
> > He took his time with the genitals before disemboweling the sheep,
> > slowly pulling out its intestines, watching the terror and pain in the
> > animal’s eyes. His technique had been improving. He could sometimes make
> > the session last an hour before putting out the eyes and finally
> > slashing the throat. Later he told friends that “the blood really
> > interested me.”
> > 
> > Tikrit, where Uday and Qusay were born, is 100 miles northwest of
> > Baghdad, not far from Al Awja, the tiny village where Saddam was born in
> > 1937. It is a former Roman outpost and reportedly the birthplace of the
> > legendary Muslim warrior Saladin. It is a region renowned for violence.
> > A favorite saying in Tikrit, particularly by Saddam’s clan, the Albu
> > Nasir, is “Kill him and end his news.”
> > 
> > As a boy Saddam Hussein roamed these filthy streets with an iron pipe he
> > used to fend off his enemies. An accomplished and charismatic street
> > thug, his gifts were encouraged by Albu Nasir elders. It was decided to
> > groom him for future power.
> > 
> > Saddam rose through the ranks of the Pan-Arab Ba’ath party and in 1968
> > engineered a coup that made him number two behind President al-Bakr. He
> > then built up a police state that forced al-Bakr into retirement in
> > 1979. Hussein “accepted” the presidency and announced the discovery of a
> > plot. Not surprisingly, the plotters turned out to be Saddam’s enemies
> > and competitors. All were quickly eliminated.
> > 
> > Although he fawned over his three daughters, Saddam was determined that
> > his sons be the inheritors of his rule. From an early age, the brothers
> > underwent training. Sitting enthralled in front of the TV like normal
> > kids watching cartoons, the brothers watched torture videos of the Iraqi
> > police “disciplining” dissidents: forcing a victim’s jaw open until it
> > broke, injecting water under the skin until it ripped. On special
> > occasions, the boys were even allowed to watch the rape videos, used for
> > official blackmail.
> > 
> > It was a bright Baghdad day in the late ’70s when a black Porsche 928
> > roared into the courtyard of the exclusive, all-boys Baghdad School.
> > Behind the wheel was 14-year-old Uday, one foot on the dash, a Cuban
> > cigar in his mouth, and a trashy, peroxide blonde draped across his lap.
> > When he stepped out of the car, his outfit of jeans and a T-shirt
> > contrasted sharply with the jacket-and-tie uniforms worn by the other
> > boys. Though Qusay was delivered by Mercedes limousine every morning, he
> > copied his brother’s attire, though he often topped his outfit off with
> > a crown of laurel leaves.
> > 
> > Uday dragged his girlfriend into his math class. The professor was
> > outraged at this lack of decorum but could say nothing. He’d heard about
> > the elderly professor who gave Uday a low mark and the next day was
> > dragged out of class by the teenager’s bodyguards and beaten with
> > cricket bats.
> > 
> > The professor started the class. Within a minute, Uday was up, walking
> > his girlfriend to the door. “For the offense of boring me,” Uday warned
> > the teacher as he reached the door, “when I become the ruler of Iraq,
> > I’m going to have you shot.”
> > 
> > The Party Animal
> > By 1984 disturbing stories of the 20-year-old Uday’s violent behavior
> > were leaking out from his inner circle. There was the time Uday made a
> > group of gypsy singers stand in a line, drop their pants, and sing while
> > he fired a machine gun over their heads until they urinated from fear.
> > Others whispered of the time Uday and his cronies had ridden to the
> > resort town of Habanniya on their BMW 1000 motorcycles, abducted a
> > newlywed off the street, and raped her. Afterward the disgraced girl
> > threw herself from the seventh-floor balcony of Uday’s hotel room and
> > died at her husband’s feet. When he cursed Uday, he was arrested for
> > treason and executed.
> > 
> > Uday was spinning out of control. There was no mistaking him in the
> > clubs and hotels of the city. The muscular six-foot psychopath with the
> > Miami Vice stubble favored gold-rimmed, mirrored Ray-Bans, seven-inch
> > Cuban Montecristos, and jewel-encrusted Rolex watches.
> > 
> > It was the look he was sporting on a crisp, dry winter day in 1987 when
> > he drove around the campus of the University of Baghdad looking for
> > action. He caught sight of Nahle Sabet, a pretty architecture student
> > from a respected middle-class Christian family he’d noticed when he
> > occasionally attended classes. He cruised past her slowly now, honking,
> > trying to get her attention. She refused to even look in his direction.
> > 
> > Two days later Sabet was a few blocks from her family’s home in a
> > Baghdad suburb when a Mercedes sedan screeched to a halt on the sidewalk
> > in front of her. Two men in dark suits got out and identified themselves
> > as secret police. They told her she was wanted at headquarters for
> > questioning and led her into the car.
> > 
> > Headquarters turned out to be a farm Uday owned several miles from
> > Baghdad. The frightened girl was hustled into a drawing room, where Uday
> > sat at an antique desk. “You’re very lucky,” he said. “I’ve chosen you
> > as my new girlfriend.”
> > 
> > “You’re insane,” Sabet stammered. “I want to go home!”
> > 
> > “Strip her,” Uday ordered his guards. The burly men pounced on her and
> > ripped at her clothes until she was cowering naked on the floor. Uday
> > towered over her, unrolling his favorite wire cable. “First I will beat
> > you. Then, if you’re good, I’ll allow you to please myself and my men.”
> > 
> > It took Uday and his men almost three months to break Sabet’s spirit.
> > Then Uday tired of her. Her face was ruined; her body was a mass of
> > bruises. He had the guards take her out to the kennels where he kept his
> > attack dogs—Rottweilers, Dobermans, and great danes. He’d told the
> > keepers several days before to stop feeding them.
> > 
> > Nahle Sabet was then smeared with honey and tossed into the kennels,
> > where all evidence of the crime disappeared.
> > 
> > Qusay the Snake
> > Fittingly, The Godfather is the Hussein family’s favorite movie. In real
> > life Qusay seemed content to play Michael to Uday’s Sonny. The more
> > outrageous Uday became, the more Qusay kept to the shadows. “In Iraq we
> > call him the Snake,” says Entifadh Qanbar, who once partied with the
> > same crowd as the brothers. “He never comes out of his hole.” But
> > Saddam, impatient with his older son, began slowly giving Qusay various
> > security assignments, expanding his role as he demonstrated his
> > competence and ruthlessness.
> > 
> > Through it all Saddam took great care to keep his sons out of harm’s way
> > during Iraq’s bloody war with Iran from 1980 to 1988. Uday and Qusay
> > were considered far too valuable to be risked in the brutal conflict
> > that cost Iraq 600,000 casualties. The closest either of them ever got
> > to the fighting was a staged event in 1982 in which Uday and Saddam
> > toured the front. Saddam asked for volunteers to lead an attack. Uday
> > immediately volunteered, jumped into a waiting helicopter, and took off,
> > rockets firing. Unfortunately, he mistakenly fired on and injured a
> > number of his own troops.
> > 
> > Qusay, on the other hand, always seemed too careful to make mistakes.
> > Uday watched jealously as his younger brother climbed the ranks of the
> > Iraqi hierarchy. Uday kept himself busy running Iraq’s Olympic committee
> > and its national soccer team, where he penalized poor play by publicly
> > shaving the players’ heads. He also used the 10-story Olympic
> > headquarters as a personal clubhouse to front his lucrative black-market
> > business in cigarettes, whiskey, and currency.
> > 
> > In the fall of 1985, Adnan Khairallah, Saddam’s cousin and one of the
> > army’s most popular generals, called up Qusay and asked if he’d like to
> > go duck hunting at his private camp near the Tigris River. With Qusay’s
> > star rising, the general was eager to cultivate the younger man’s favor.
> > 
> > The caravan of Mercedes and army trucks arrived at the general’s camp
> > before dawn. Leaving their vehicles parked among the small town of silk
> > tents with their priceless Persian carpets, Adnan, Qusay, and their
> > retinue trekked out into the marshes to wait for the ducks.
> > 
> > When the hunting party was several hundred yards away from the camp,
> > they heard a great roar. Flying toward them was not a flock of fowl but
> > a helicopter, its runners customized to hold rocket launchers. At the
> > helm was Uday.
> > 
> > Uday banked his helicopter and, with the rising sun at his back, dived
> > on the island and fired his missiles at the general’s tents. Two
> > fireballs mushroomed from the camp. “He was laughing and was happy,”
> > Abbas Jenabi, a former Uday aide, recalls. “He even destroyed some of
> > their cars.”
> > 
> > Despite such provocations, the brothers maintained an unwavering public
> > image: confident Uday and his adoring younger brother. Privately, the
> > relationship was developing into something else: a bitter rivalry. One
> > that turned more dangerous with each new day.
> > 
> > Disrespecting the Pig Roast
> > There is an idyllic garden island in the middle of the Tigris River
> > called the Mother of Pigs. After taking power, Saddam reserved its use
> > for members of his inner circle. Saddam’s food taster and head procurer,
> > Kamel Hannah Jajo, had one of the most elegant villas. Unfortunately for
> > him, his next door neighbor was Uday Hussein.
> > 
> > In November 1988, Jajo threw a party on the island and invited the cream
> > of Baghdad society. The guest of honor was the wife of Egyptian
> > president Hosni Mubarak.
> > 
> > Qusay was invited. Uday, pointedly, was not.
> > 
> > All night Uday brooded, listening to the party only yards away. He
> > downed tumbler after tumbler of Cognac and whiskey while fiddling with a
> > battery-powered knife called a Magic Wand. When Jajo shot his AK-47 into
> > the air—a form of celebration commonly known as “Arab fireworks”—Uday
> > had had enough.
> > 
> > “Tell that son of a whore to stop!” he ordered his guards.
> > 
> > They returned with Jajo’s reply. “He says he takes orders only from the
> > president.”
> > 
> > Enraged, Uday charged into the party next door, waving the Magic Wand.
> > Jajo stood on a table, gun in hand.
> > 
> > “Get down!” Uday screamed.
> > 
> > “I obey only the president,” the old man repeated.
> > 
> > Uday went berserk, slashing the man’s throat with the electric blade.
> > Jajo crumpled. Uday took out his pistol and shot his father’s aide in
> > the chest, killing him instantly.
> > 
> > Uday immediately realized he had crossed the line. He ran back to his
> > house and locked himself in the bathroom. His bodyguards ran after him
> > and pounded on the door, begging him to come out. Terrified, Uday
> > swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. When the guards broke through the
> > doors, Uday threw up the pills all over their shoes.
> > 
> > Saddam hurried to the scene from the palace in slippers. The dictator
> > confronted the woozy, cowering Uday in his upstairs bedroom. “If you’re
> > found guilty of murder,” Saddam promised, “you will die like any other
> > criminal.”
> > 
> > Investigators, sensing Saddam’s anger subsiding, found Uday innocent of
> > the charges. Saddam ordered Uday to Switzerland until the scandal died
> > down.
> > 
> > Saddam had had enough. He ordered Qusay to investigate Uday’s shady
> > business dealings. It was exactly the break Qusay had been waiting for.
> > “Qusay is a very cruel person,” says Amatzia Baram, an Iraq specialist
> > at the University of Haifa. “For years he’s been gearing himself to
> > become number one.”
> > 
> > Qusay peeled away the layers of Uday’s corruption. Its true depths came
> > to light when Saddam toured Uday’s garages in a multistory fortress. As
> > Saddam strolled the immaculate, polished concrete-floor rooms, he found
> > a fleet of 30 Mercedes, plus Ferraris, Lamborghini Countachs, silver
> > Maserati turbos, Jaguars, and dozens of Porsches. The centerpiece of the
> > fleet was a Mercedes 500 fitted with a huge Rolls-Royce engine.
> > 
> > Saddam turned to his retinue. “Torch them,” he commanded. As Saddam
> > strolled to his waiting motorcade, his son Uday’s priceless toys
> > exploded inside the garage.
> > 
> > In exile, Uday held his own. One night at a disco, he grabbed at a
> > woman,, causing her boyfriend to intervene. Uday pulled out his gun and
> > threatened to kill him. Cash smoothed Uday’s indiscretions, but the
> > Swiss wanted the Iraqi gone. A plane was dispatched by Dad to bring the
> > errant son home.
> > 
> > Uday mistakenly assumed all had been forgiven.
> > 
> > Blood in the Sand
> > In January 1991, the largest invasion force since World War II assembled
> > in the Arabian desert to drive the Iraqi army from Kuwait. Saddam had
> > been systematically looting the gulf emirate since invading it the
> > previous August. Though the main prize was Kuwait’s multibillion-dollar
> > oil industry, the Hussein family also divided up the country’s other
> > material wealth. Uday sent his teams to steal every luxury car that
> > could be found and brought to his farm. He later made $125 million from
> > their resale.
> > 
> > The party didn’t last long. When the U.S. and allied forces began
> > bombing Baghdad, the Husseins became scarce. Saddam and Qusay slept in a
> > different palace every night. Uday moved to his farm, far from the
> > danger of stray bombs.
> > 
> > By mid-March Saddam’s million-man army had been crushed. It was
> > anticipated by the U.S. that defeat would topple Saddam and his rule.
> > Though revolts broke out throughout the country, Saddam and Qusay’s
> > secret police crushed all dissension. Instead of weakening the regime,
> > Saddam was able to spin the defeat into a great anti-American crusade.
> > 
> > After the Gulf War ended, the U.N. dispatched inspectors to Iraq to
> > assess the extent of Iraq’s advanced weapons development. Saddam
> > appointed Qusay chief of concealment.
> > 
> > But Uday couldn’t help butting in. Early in 1996, he drove a
> > metallic-gold 928 Porsche past a barracks of the Special Republican
> > Guards. At that moment weapons inspector Scott Ritter, a former U.S.
> > Marine, was standing curbside, preparing to lead his team inside. Uday
> > roared past Ritter, screeched to a halt, and backed up until he was
> > beside him.
> > 
> > “I’m alpha dog. I don’t put up with that stuff,” Ritter recalls. “So I’m
> > standing there, staring this car down. Then the window rolls open, and
> > there’s this idiot wearing these mirror sunglasses.”
> > 
> > The two men glared silently at each other. Uday revved the engine.
> > Ritter refused to blink.
> > 
> > Uday laid down rubber.
> > 
> > The inspection team monitored all communications and later unscrambled
> > Uday shouting on the phone about a “crow,” the name the Iraqis had for
> > the weapons inspectors. “This goddamn crow is humiliating Iraq!” he
> > screamed. “He embarrassed me in front of my soldiers! I want his ass. I
> > want him gone!”
> > 
> > That night Uday’s security goons made their move to kidnap Ritter.
> > Luckily, they were not only inept but also drunk. As they stepped from
> > their SUV, one of them shot himself in the leg with his automatic
> > weapon. His partner attacked the wrong vehicle, drawing his gun on a
> > group of terrified Iraqi citizens.
> > 
> > Uday’s attempt at foreign relations became a popular joke in the bazaars
> > and cafés of Baghdad. Worse than with all his previous transgressions,
> > he was now an embarrassment to his clan. This line no self-respecting
> > Iraqi could cross and survive.
> > 
> > You Die, Uday
> > The Tigris River makes a lazy S through downtown Baghdad. At the western
> > end of the S lies the Mansour district. On Thursday evening, December
> > 12, 1996, three groups of idlers carrying sports bags waited at an
> > intersection. Just before 7:30, they saw the two white Mercedes led by
> > Uday’s Porsche.
> > 
> > Uday had been on a roll. Months earlier Uday’s brothers-in-law, Saddam
> > and Hussein Kamel, had defected with their families to Jordan. Pardoned
> > by Saddam and nagged relentlessly by their wives, the brothers finally
> > consented to return to Iraq if their safety would be guaranteed.
> > However, no sooner had they crossed the border than Uday separated his
> > sisters from the two traitors and had the two men confined at their
> > family home in Baghdad. Hours later Uday and a unit of Iraqi Special
> > Forces attacked the Kamel house, killing the two brothers, their father,
> > their sister, and her three children.
> > 
> > The convoy slowed at the T intersection with Baghdad International
> > Street. The “idlers” yanked AK-47s from inside their sports bags. The
> > intersection exploded with gunfire. The gunmen, from a shadowy Muslim
> > group named al-Nahdah—“the Awakening”—had tracked Uday’s movements for
> > weeks. The gunmen sprayed bullets at all three cars.
> > 
> > One of the assailants saw Uday crouching underneath the dashboard and
> > let loose a barrage at the Porsche. Although the bulletproof sides of
> > the car deflected some of the fire, Uday was hit eight times. Another
> > gunman ran up to administer the coup de grâce, but his rifle jammed.
> > 
> > As the members of al-Nahdah melted from the streets, the most hated man
> > in Iraq lay bleeding. Rushed to the hospital and operated upon by
> > Cuban-trained doctors, Uday barely survived, temporarily paralyzed from
> > the waist down and impotent. While he was still unconscious, dark rumors
> > began to sweep the upper ranks of the military that Qusay, or even
> > Saddam, might have ordered the hit.
> > 
> > When Uday woke from surgery, he found his entire family waiting by his
> > bed. Saddam was furious. One by one, he pointed out the greed and
> > incompetence of family members threatening his regime. Finally, he
> > turned to Uday. “And what kind of man are you? Are you a politician, a
> > traitor, a people’s leader, or a playboy?”
> > 
> > The only person that Saddam did not criticize was Qusay. The once
> > adoring brothers now stared at each other with undisguised hatred. One
> > of them would have to go.
> > 
> > Murder on a Grand Scale
> > Early on the morning of April 26, 1998, Iraq’s largest prison went on
> > alert. Saddam’s troops took up positions outside the towering walls of
> > Abu Ghraib, a lockup for 15,000 men. Qusay Hussein was en route for an
> > unscheduled inspection.
> > 
> > As the armored convoy wheeled through the prison gates, Captain Khaled
> > Aziz al-Jenabi, a 20-year veteran in the secret police agency, the
> > Mukhabarat, sat in his cramped office. “I was supposed to be on vacation
> > this week,” he muttered to a colleague. He reluctantly went outside to
> > meet the VIPs.
> > 
> > The 33-year-old Qusay stepped from the armored limousine into the bright
> > sunlight dressed in starched military fatigues and dark aviator
> > sunglasses. He wasted no time. “We must do something about the political
> > ward. It is far beyond capacity,” Qusay said to Colonel Hassan al-Amiri
> > as Captain al-Jenabi and others stood by. “I want the prisoners executed
> > by the end of the day tomorrow.”
> > 
> > Knowing that questioning Qusay was grounds for arrest, torture, even
> > death, the warden tried to stall the prince. “We don’t have the
> > facilities for such a job, or the manpower,” he said, unable to believe
> > they were being forced to massacre more than 2,000 political prisoners.
> > 
> > Qusay was unmoved: “Start at 6 a.m. Work all day; you can get it done.
> > I’ll leave a squad of my own men to assist you.”
> > 
> > At daybreak the horror began. Faced with death, the prisoners screamed
> > and cried and shit themselves with dread. The guards selected 10 men at
> > a time and beat them down the stone steps into the execution room, a
> > long hall lined with sandbags. The condemned were tied to poles, and
> > cloth bags were pulled over their heads. Some said a final prayer to
> > Allah for their souls.
> > 
> > A guard stepped to the first man and shot him once in the skull. He
> > stepped down the line to the next and did the same. The bags over the
> > men’s heads kept blood and brain matter from spraying everyone. In an
> > adjoining building, five gallows stood. As soon as the nooses were
> > looped around a man’s neck, he’d be kicked off the platform. As the next
> > group was led in, some of the previous victims were still jerking and
> > kicking.
> > 
> > Qusay instructed his guards to make sure every guard and officer in the
> > prison got blood on his hands.
> > 
> > It was more than a mass murder—it was a mass initiation. “This is like a
> > criminal family,” says Frank Anderson, a former CIA chief of the Near
> > East?South Asia desk. “The way one establishes bona fides is by
> > participating in a crime. Everybody in that country who has any
> > political power has been implicated in the crime.”
> > 
> > The Dictator and the Beachball
> > Qusay is now the second most powerful man in Iraq. No longer in Uday’s
> > shadow, he has gained authority and confidence. The battle between
> > brothers continues to escalate.
> > 
> > Uday struck back where he knew it would hurt Qusay the most. Just as he
> > had lusted for Porsche 928s, Uday knew Qusay had a passion for
> > thoroughbreds. “Uday went to Qusay’s farm, had poison put in the food,
> > and threw it to the horses,” says former Uday aide Abbas Jenabi. “He
> > killed two of the best racehorses in the world.”
> > 
> > But the game has moved beyond sibling rivalry: Qusay has bigger battles
> > on his mind. Since the end of the Gulf War, Iraq has been hamstrung by a
> > U.S.-led embargo and occasional sorties by allied air forces enforcing
> > no-fly zones or bombing factories where it is suspected that teams of
> > Iraqi scientists are building weapons of mass destruction.
> > 
> > Despite a massive air raid in the opening days of the new Bush
> > administration, it is believed that Qusay has successfully concealed
> > Iraq’s weapons development. Hidden in secret locations are anthrax,
> > chemicals for nerve gases, and the ballistic missiles to deliver them.
> > 
> > Then there is the “beachball,” an Iraqi euphemism for the biggest prize:
> > a nuclear weapon. Naturally, Saddam and Qusay occupy two chairs on the
> > country’s nuclear commission. In this role the probable future president
> > of Iraq occasionally summons Iraq’s top nuclear scientists to his
> > office, where he has them stand at attention before his desk. “So,
> > gentlemen,” Qusay asks politely but with deadly seriousness at the start
> > of every meeting. “When can you give us the beachball?”
> > 
> > -----------------------------------------
> > 
> > Warning: If you have kids, don't give them this link becasue of it's
> > content, but the article reveals some interesting info.  I apologize if
> > I offend others.
> > 
> > Source: http://www.maximonline.com/articles/article_4211.html
> > 
> > Glad to be an American defending the world from oppressive leaders,
> > 
> > Kevin
> > -- 
> > Kevin Cullis <kevincu at orci.com>
> > _______________________________________________
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> > CLUE-Talk at clue.denver.co.us
> > http://clue.denver.co.us/mailman/listinfo/clue-talk
> 
> 
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-- 
Kevin Cullis <kevincu at orci.com>