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  So much for all that.What a difference a fortnight makes. Today, as of press time, the war is all but over, with scattered forces offering about as much resistance as the French ambassador in Tim Burton's Mars Attacks! The Bush administration has all but declared victory, and why not? It's obviously all over but the shouting (and an indeterminate period of American occupation, ancient tribal rivalries, murder, assassination, chaos, and violent resistance/resentment on behalf of the Iraqi people). But, fuck all that political effluent. I'm not here to talk to you about the volatile dynamics of Middle East relations, at least not in a direct sense. No, instead let's talk porn. As I write this, we don't know if Saddam Hussein and his sons are alive or have been incinerated by the intense "decapitation" bombing U.S. forces commenced upon a supposed meeting place of the upper echelon of Iraqi leadership. But, judging by the condition of the family's mammoth Presidential Palace compound (all two miles of it), if they are alive and in exile, they sure didn't do a whole lot of packing ahead of time. If you factor in Saddam's arrogance, it seems likely that they figured they could hold onto their positions by the skin of their teeth. That palace may straddle the Tigris River, but by the looks of it, Saddam and his heirs might have been sailing down a different river—denial. Much has been made in the media about what soldiers have found in the Presidential Palace, but none have been as salacious in nature as the discoveries made in the area belonging to Hussein's son, Uday. Inside the compound resided "the biggest collection of naked women I'd ever seen," said Army Capt. Ed Ballanco, of Montville, N.J. "It looked like something at the Playboy Mansion."  Okay, first of all, that's just a stupid statement. Ballanco is referring to pictures of naked women, and why the hell would there be pictures of naked women at the Playboy Mansion when they would have actual naked women? Second, there's no attribution in this statement—for all we know, the army captain may have been raised in Salt Lake City, where looking at the relatively tame Maxim is a cardinal sin, for fuck's sake.Nevertheless, there's no doubt that Marines made some juicy finds in Uday's shagadelic swingin' bachelor pad. Roughly a million dollars' worth of liquor, wine, and heroin, for starters. Man, if that doesn't make you a hit with the girls, no matter the culture, nothing will. According to the Associated Press, there were bags and boxes of pills and medicines (ginseng sexual fortifiers, heartburn medication and Prozac) and an Accu-Rite HIV Antibodies Screening Test Kit in Uday's office. Clearly, the 39-year-old liked the finer things in life, and enjoyed having a good time. My favorite epiphany, though, was the discovery, among a virtual wallpaper of girls downloaded from the internet, of pictures of President Bush's 21-year-old daughters, Jenna and Barbara! I'm sure when this news got to Dubya he wanted to bring back the B-52s and drop some more bombs on the already-shattered compound. Now, I've mentioned before how much I'd love to bugger the daughters Bush, so you can imagine how much this made me laugh. Man, I could really develop a soft spot for this Uday guy, if it wasn't for the fact that while he was bangin' concubines and sippin' Dom his people were living in squalor, hoping to scrounge up enough for some falafel for their families.  And that's why I kind of have a problem with the way the media is portraying all of this. Basically, it's been reported as "Uday's palace of self-gratification," in an almost repressed, '50s-style tabloid manner.This bothers me because, I mean, if the government hated me (and surely it has every reason to), and dropped a few bombs on my Glen Park apartment, I shudder to think of how their findings of various dicey items would be reported. "Sex writer's torrid temple of titillation!" "Scribe's palace of porn revealed!" "Drugs, liquor fill editor's condom-filled compound!" Not that these headlines would be inaccurate, just… misleading.
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