An American Ex-Pat in... America.

If you’re hailing as a hero Edward Snowden, the “whistle-blower” who released a number of National Security Agency documents, revealing that the non-stop invasion of privacy enacted during the Bush administration has continued unabated during the Obama administration, then you simply can’t be a fan of Bradley Manning.

Here’s why: it’s the difference between leaking and hacking.

Based on his job with a contractor to the NSA, Snowden became privy to a surveillance program he believes violates the Constitutional rights of Americans. It’s a gross invasion of our privacy, with little in the way of oversight to make sure that such monitoring, done in the name of security, is not also used as a means of political persecution.

He selected a number of documents and chose to right a specific wrong. He, like Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers, like former Associate FBI director Mark “Deep Throat” Felt, engaged in leaking. (There’s a fallacy insofar as he “whistle-blew” something that was both legal and already within the public domain. Nonetheless, his theft of the paperwork is being deemed newsworthy for its scale and timeliness.)

Private Bradley Manning stole hundreds of thousands of State Department cables discovered accidentally. They did not fall within the purview of his routine duties, and he could never claim to have a functional knowledge of all of their contents, the way Snowden did.

He accessed a system way above his pay-grade, and used deception to remove the information from the computer network. This is hacking. (It doesn’t matter if hacking information was easy, and in his case, it was. If you steal a car because the keys were left in it, it’s still a crime.)

Manning had no specific knowledge of crimes contained in these files.

Or let’s say Manning did find crimes. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, the first 100 pages of cables were riddled with what he thought was crime. There is still no way he read 250 thousand of them and determined that they all supported criminal activity on the part of the State Department. 

No — Manning made his decision to steal the information based on the hacking world’s vague rationale, “If it’s secret, it must be bad.” And “information wants to be free.”

And perhaps the rationale is — if he did see crime in what he read — he could take a reasonable guess that there’s even more crime going on.

Manning allegedly turned that information over to Wikileaks, which document dumped the private State Department cables for everyone, including al Qaeda and nuke-aspiring thugs to see, online.

The cables revealed a great deal of diplomatic gossip, and some counter-intuitive private alliances (such as Pakistan approving more drone strikes, and Yemen agreeing to cover them up.) But even the New York Times and the Washington Post and the Guardian and all the news outlets who covered the leak reported that the cables revealed the basic competence of the U.S. diplomatic corps. (In fact, there was little in the way of revelation about Iraq and Afghanistan from the cables that those newspapers’ correspondents had not already spent years reporting on.)

Even Wikileaks founder Julian Assange admits that strongest reportage of alleged crimes and cover-ups contained deep within in the U.S. State Department cables came very, very much after the fact. In some cases, after years of journalism.

But — to hear their supporters tell it — Wikileaks and Bradley Manning are heroes! Because the ends justify the means. Assange’s argument is they Manning didn’t need to know about specific crimes being committed in advance to justify stealing all the cables: what we found out later makes it all worth while.

If you buy that argument, you should work for the NSA.

Their rationale? It doesn’t matter that if the NSA doesn’t have any knowledge ahead of time about specific terror plots by US citizens or the people they talk to, and it doesn’t matter they are monitoring everybody’s electronic communications with foreigners. They can take a reasonable guess that there’s crime going on. 

If they stop just one terrorist attack because of it, their thinking goes, then it was all worth while. They are, after all, trying to save lives.

The ends justify the means.

And hey — information wants to be free.

So, if the NSA scandal has you upset, applaud Snowden all you want. That’s leaking. Or, applaud Manning all you want. That’s hacking — and essentially the same as what the NSA did. So you’ve got to pick one.

Note to readers: my own observations regarding those who support both Manning and Snowden suggest that the argument is “the U.S. is an evil empire and no matter what anyone does to take it down a peg is justified.” I don’t buy it, not just because the means deployed are hypocritical, but because simply being destructive or indulging in trendy notions about “anarchy” are not an answer for how we move forward in a functioning society.

Fans of privacy issues, please post in the comments section what the new definition of privacy — for both individuals, and the affairs of government and diplomacy — should be. I am genuinely interested to hear. I am against the prosecution of journalists who deal with leakers.

I’m also keen to hear a comprehensive definition of “hacktivism,” which (while I sympathize with some of the issues taken on by groups like “Anonymous”) strikes me as opportunistic and wholly without accountability. 

This story was also published on The Huffington Post, with numerous comments from readers.   Below, I post my response to comments suggesting individuals have a right to privacy, but the government does not. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mp-nunan/you-cannot-heroworship-sn_b_3417561.html?&utm_hp_ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false#sb=548833b=facebook

The question of privacy vs. secrecy is precisely the issue.

All agencies of government are required to be transparent. They are accountable to us, the voters. 

However, that does not mean that they have no right to privacy, such as the State Department, when conducting the affairs of state.

Who wants to see North Korea nuke Japan? This is a valid concern to the Japanese. For that reason, the US, China, NK, SK, Japan and Russia have been engaged in the “Six Party talks” designed to get Pyongyang to drop the nuclear aggression. (Those talks are currently on hold.) 

What value is there in Bradley Manning revealing the back-room conversations between, for example, the US and China – and allowing Kim Jong Un to know their negotiating strategies ahead of time?

Let’s say there’s an Iranian dissident, who wants to leave the country with information regarding Tehran’s support for Syrian use of chemical weapons. Why would that person ever come forward, when he knows that some 23 year-old has decided to reveal his name to anyone with an internet connection?   (Wikileaks refused to redact the names of all diplomatic contacts. )

No, no – nevermind! Bradley Manning knows better. About everything! 

So yes – transparency is an essential part of democracy. As every individual is entitled to privacy, so too, are agencies of government – to a degree. To suggest otherwise is to be naïve about how the real world operates.

You might not be familiar with me, but I’m a rock. Well — I don’t like to brag, but I’m a boulder, really. Once, I was the tip of a mountain, but mostly I’ve been paved over. And — I didn’t ask for things to be this way — but, as rocks go, I’m a pretty damn significant one. I am the rock upon which the foundations of three major religions rest.

I usually try to avoid the conversation, because it gets awkward, fast. But what better time than Holy Week to bring this up?

I live in Jerusalem — which I know you’ve heard of. It’s the ancient city in Israel and/or Palestine - depending on your point of view. It’s holy to Christians, Jews and Muslims. All three have fought over Jerusalem over the centuries. In the modern era, it’s mostly been a conflict between Jews and Muslims.

This is where I come in.

You’ve probably heard about this one — Christians and Jews talk about it all the time. It was in the Old Testament and the Torah that Abraham was married to Sarah, who couldn’t conceive. That’s what we’d say now, but of course, in the Bible they prefer the term “barren.” In any case, God came along — and suddenly, Sarah was pregnant!

At long last, they had a son, named Isaac. Then to test him, God decided that Abraham would have to kill him. (God’s like that sometimes.) Abraham took Isaac outside of town — well, that was back when I was still a mountain, — and was about to kill him, when an angel said, Nevermind! God was just testing! There happened to be ram nearby, caught in some thorns, and the angel said it was OK to kill the ram instead.

Yeah, so — that mountain? That was me.

Even before that, God decided to give Moses the stone tablets that contained the Ten Commandments. You know, the Thou shalt not’s that still stir up so much controversy. Moses — what a star! To be chosen by God like that!

Moses and the Israelites spent 40 years wandering in the desert, in search of the Promised Land, carrying the tablets with them in a special golden trunk — the Ark of the Covenant.

Well, we all know — Moses died before making it to the Promised Land. But the Ark made it to a temple, the First Temple, built by King Solomon in Jerusalem. Which was built upon the tip of a mountain.

That tip of a mountain? Actually, it’s a rock now. A boulder, really. That was me.

That temple got knocked down, as did the Second Temple to follow. Raiders of the Lost Ark not withstanding, the Ark of the Covenant has never been found. (I swear to God I don’t know what happened to it! And no, I’ve never met Harrison Ford. I get asked that a lot.)

But to the Jewish people, you’ve got to understand — those temples, and the Third temple prophesied to be built upon the same site? To them, that’s of extraordinary religious significance.

To Christians, for whom the Ten Commandments still make up the backbone of morality? What a star for them, too.

Now let’s talk Islam. One day, the Prophet Mohammed was at home in Mecca when the Arch Angel Gabriel appeared, with a magic winged horse. First, they flew to Jerusalem. From there, Mohammed and the magic flying horse took off to the heavens and met God.

Of course, for that sort of flight, you need to get a good running start. Off the tip of a mountain. Off a conveniently-located boulder.

Can you believe it? It was the same rock! And yeah — that was me.

Mohammed — what a star! To be chosen by God like that! Understandably, Muslims think Jerusalem is of extraordinary religious significance. And so am I.

So yes, I have to say — I’m flattered that so much history is associated with me. Oftentimes, I’m overwhelmed by the faith and love of good people, whose interpretations of the Torah, the Bible and the Quran lead them to do unto others as they would like others to do unto themselves.

But the rest of it.

Thousands of terrorist attacks over the years, by those who believe Islam is being oppressed by the U.S. and other allies of Israel? And the military response to those? That’s all because of me. Thousands of air-strikes and attacks by Israel on Gaza and other Palestinian targets, not even necessarily part of the seven(!) individual wars and myriad mini-conflicts to wrack the region in the modern era?

That too, is all because of me.

Pick up a newspaper. Are you baffled by the talk of potential Israeli strikes on Iranian nuclear sites and how they link to question of the U.S. funding Syrian rebels?

Peel away enough layers, and that, too, is because of me.

With no exaggeration, humankind has literally spent centuries fighting over the same rock. I try not to get too bummed out about this, because I know it’s not my fault. But at the same time — I can’t help but feel partly to blame for a never-ending stream of tragedy.

I understand that we’re talking about tribal culture, with ancient scribes whose geographic understanding was limited by how far they could get on foot. And sure — in Jerusalem, I’m a convenient landmark. But did God really have to base elements of the foundation to every tradition of faith in the region on me??

Talk about a lack of imagination on the part of the Creator!

And Christianity doesn’t get away scott-free. The Crusades, anyone? Luckily, I’m not even the faintest bit round — here’s a photo. Otherwise it’d be just my luck to have been rolled in front of Christ’s tomb.

I know. I’m sorry. What’s more tacky than a celebrity complaining about the writers? But honestly, I’mexhausted. If it were up to me, I’d be no more than a molehill. I’d be a patch of sand — there’d be so much less responsibility.

It’s absurd. It’s the height of human folly.

Because in the end, I’m still just a rock.

Peace.

This piece also appears in The Huffington Post.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mp-nunan/a-holy-week-lament-by-the_b_2956626.html

This cartoon also running on: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mp-nunan/pope-craigslist-ad_b_2663146.html

Dear Mr. Vice President,

You’ve had a tough week or two, haven’t you? You’re doing the talk show rounds to promote your new book,The Future, about how democracy has been “hacked” by corporate interests. But all the interviewers want to talk about is the degree of hypocrisy with which you — a Nobel Laureate lauded for your efforts to end climate change — sold out to Big Oil, when you sold Current TV to Aljazeera, owned by the Emir of Qatar, an oil-producing state.

A cynic might say that degree of hypocrisy is best expressed by the figure $100 million, the amount you’re individually estimated to make from the deal.

Asked by the Matt Lauers, David Lettermans and Jon Stewarts of this world, if — in Stewart’s words — “Activist Al Gore” can coexist with “Mogul Al Gore,” you’ve defended the sale by pointing out that Aljazeera’s news coverage of climate change has exceeded that of any other news organization in the world, including the U.S. networks which didn’t even manage a single climate change question in the myriad debates of the last campaign.

Fair enough.

But, if I may make a suggestion, Mr. Vice President? You need to come out swinging.

Not only did the U.S. networks abdicate on the coverage of climate change, they have abdicated, to an enormous extent, coverage of international news — exactly what Aljazeera wants to bring to the U.S. through the Current TV purchase.

Aljazeera English has 21 news bureaus around the world, producing television news packages for a 24 hour news channel. They are rivaled only by BBC and CNN (the latter of which, as I’ve argued in the past,has abdicated doing journalism in favor of merely doing live television.)

NBC, CBS and ABC seem to limit much of their broadcast time largely to the reportage of “Chief Foreign Correspondent” Richard Engel, or “Chief Foreign Affairs” correspondent Lara Logan, or “Senior Foreign Affairs Correspondent” Martha Raddatz.

Engel, Logan and Raddatz are hard-working individuals, to be sure. But the very premise that a single individual (branded as a “personality”) is sufficient to cover every international news event shows how far the networks standards for foreign coverage have fallen. What they turn around is a drop in the ocean compared to the breath and depth of coverage of Aljazeera English or the BBC World Service.

Oh sure, sure — there’s an earthquake in Haiti, for example, and the networks will dispatch a Brian Williams — for a whole three days!

And let’s not forget, Ann Curry, formerly of NBC, used to score coverage of Sudan — mostly when she could arrange to tag along with George Clooney.

You get my point.

Aljazeera — refreshingly — refuses to indulge in the “tyranny of low expectations” that the U.S. news executives live by.

So if I may, Mr. Vice President, why don’t you tell Matt Lauer that you disagree with his network’s belief that that Americans are too stupid to want to know about international news?

And you could mention to Jon Stewart — who makes his living exposing the flaws in cable news — that bringing a credible new outlet for foreign affairs to an American audience represents an enormous step towards fixing the dysfunctional myopia that afflicts the U.S. media? (You know, his “fun house mirror.”)

The fact is the U.S. networks are full of staffers who’d love to work in foreign news bureaus, or who’d love to work for a news organization as dedicated to television journalism as Aljazeera English. Perhaps that’s why the Aljazeera America has received more than 8 thousand applications for 160 jobs (in the interest of full disclosure, including my own.)

One more thing. About that $100 million of hypocrisy.

Qatar is an Arab oil state surrounded by Arab oil states in a region largely known for autocracy, human rights abuses, the subjugation of women and an almost feudal power structure.

AlJazeera is far from perfect, and there is a gulf in the standards between English and Arabic programming. In many ways, it remains an on-going experiment. But it’s the first Middle Eastern nation to launch a 24-hour English news channel, allowing diverse groups to give voice to the concerns of their own communities — something far more progressive and, you can even say, democratic — than the region had been used to.

That’s something to be applauded — and perhaps why Aljazeera has been praised by none other thanHillary Clinton, and why it’s reportedly played at the U.S. State Department. Indeed, many media critics say Aljazeera hits its stride with its coverage of the Arab Spring.

Mr. Vice President, you’re welcome to remind people of all that, too.

This piece is also running in “The Huffington Post.” 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mp-nunan/open-letter-to-al-gore-re_b_2618170.html

They’ve become familiar refrains for those of us who have worked in failed states, those home to a downward spiral of violence and lawlessness  - often fueled by Islamic extremism. The word of the scripture is inviolable. We reject the authority of the central government. The entire world is against us in a giant anti-Muslim conspiracy.

I am a former foreign correspondent. I was based overseas for 17 years, covering politics – and extremist groups —  in Indonesia, India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, Sri Lanka, the Philippines and other spots.

Lately, however, I’ve noticed some eerie echoes of those extremist refrains much closer to home: in the statements by the National Rifle Association and gun-owning extremists, in the wake of the massacre of 26 children and teachers in Newtown, Connecticut in December 2012.

Within the NRA, there appear to be some who the Second Amendment as a quasi-divine right that is the only thing that stands between them and the destruction of an entire way of life.

Before we go on, two important caveats. First, unlike extremist groups, the NRA does not pro-actively carry out acts of violence or terrorism. There is no mandate to do so, and indeed, the NRA condemns such acts of violence, be it in Newtown, Virginia Tech, in a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. (The NRA’s condemnations of shooting incidents are sometimes convoluted, and are often paired with a defense of the Second Amendment. But random acts of violence are, in fact, condemned.)

Secondly, the NRA leadership may not represent the voices of many of its members – sportsmen and women and hunters, who would no sooner harm another human being than they’d feel compelled to use an AR-15 to shoot a deer.  

But there are undeniable similarities between the NRA and Islamic extremist groups, in both the pursuit of policy and in rhetoric.  These merit closer examination:

Those who blaspheme the Second Amendment shall be deported or executed

CNN’s Piers Morgan dared to suggest that the Second Amendment be repealed. The reaction was virulent: a petition was sent to the White House calling for Morgan, a  Brit, to be deported.  At least one death threat was also made to “Vanity Fair” writer Kurt Eichenwald, via Twitter, for suggesting much the same.

The absolute and fundamental rejection of any other ideology.

In reaction to Newtown, the NRA adopted a zero compromise approach to gun-control, in any form.  Not onenew regulation should come of the slaughter of 20 children, they say. It is, in fact is pushing for a further national “conversion” to their gun-owning ideology by promoting armed guards in schools. “The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun,” says NRA president Wayne LaPierre.

 An overwhelming reaction to any perceived threat to the “ideal” – the caliphate – even if the caliphate never existed.   In this case, a gun-owning caliphate.

As explained beautifully in Vanity Fair, the NRA impeded the passage of the  N.I.C.S. Improvement Amendments Act of 2007 -  legislation by Congress to block the sale of guns to the mentally ill, proposed after the Virginia Tech shooting.

Put simply, the NRA refused to allow the legal precedent to be set that would prevent any American citizen, no matter how deranged, from having access to firearms.  Access to guns is the only right that matters, and the US cannot withstand any dilution of the Second Amendment.

That’s because in the ideal world of the caliphate, in which the rule of the Koran, err, excuse me – the Second Amendment -  is law, its word shall be inviolable.

The refusal to recognize the authority of the central government.

If you’ve worked in foreign affairs, the phrase, “refusal to recognize the authority of the central government” is shorthand most often associated with warlords in Afghanistan, Sunni insurgents in Iraq, or any number of breakaway militant organizations the world over.

And yet, in reaction to President Obama’s announcement of a list of “executive actions” on gun control to go before Congress, state lawmakers in Wyoming, Mississippi and Texas vowed to block federal law. Some even threatened to arrest and imprison federal law officers trying to carry out gun control regulations.

(The reaction on the NRA channel, Fox News, predictably, went further.  It distorted the fact that those executive actions must go before Congress, instead branding President Obama as a self-appointed “king.”)

Basing one’s identity on a sense of victimization in a perpetual existential struggle.

Long before the Newtown shooting marked a slight shift in rhetoric, the NRA frequently cited President Obama’s total lack of action on gun-control as a devious plot to come after guns in his second term.  Watch Wayne LaPierre in September 2011 stating as much at a CPAC Conference here.  (If you find the LaPierre speech ripe for parody, you’re not alone: Stephen Colbert thought so, too.)

The convoluted logic fuels the notion that the NRA are underdogs in profound existential struggle, in their case, against the evils of government. It’s a fight fueled by patriotism. It’s a fight to defend our way of life. You can defend “America” against “tyranny.”

Don’t look now, but that sounds just like the global anti-Muslim conspiracy! How do extremist groups attract new members? With the same push-button emotional appeal: Join us, and you can belong to something bigger than yourself. It’s a fight fueled by faith. It’s a fight to defend our way of life. You can defend “Islam” against “the West.”

The Glorification of Martyrdom. Sort Of.

Again, the NRA does not support gun violence or carry it out.  They do, however, talk about “fighting to the death” with some frequency. “I’ll give you my gun when you take it from my cold, dead hands,” was popularized NRA president Charlton Heston in 2009.

He was merely echoing a sentiment pushed by NRA bumper-stickers that had been in circulation for years at the time.

In some ways, the United States appears to be at a critical juncture: do we move past the absolutism of our creation myth, which allows us to overthrow the government whenever the mood strikes us? And, as Second Amendment fundamentalists believe, every citizen must always have access to the most lethal ability to carry an insurrection out?

Or do we evolve into a future in which we have achieved a rule of law, resting upon a bedrock of civil rights, that allows us challenge, through non-violent means, any infringement upon those rights?

As the debate moves ahead, we owe it to ourselves to remember:  extremist political philosophies and tactics don’t exclusively belong to impoverished groups overseas. 

Do you feel as if you’ve spent the last 18 months, slowly succumbing to that tickle in your throat, the dull ache behind your eyes, which you didn’t want to admit you had? It’s just the sniffles, you said  - but even then, your voice cracked in a way that made you know the worse was still ahead.

Your mom told you to never to go outside in that kind of weather without a coat, but you thought, It’s only 2011 – what’s it matter if I read a few blogs? This is what being an informed citizen is about!  But before long you found yourself checking (and rechecking) Politico’s Twitter feed, you had signed up to play “270 to Win” to craft your own campaign strategy, all the while downing some Rachel Maddow every night just to help you sleep.

Your forehead felt hot – or maybe that was just the palm of your hand. After all, you couldn’t miss the Republican primaries! Mitt! Herman! Michelle! Rick Santorum-istan and T-Paw! “Oops” Perry and Moon Base Gingrich.  Watching them was like witnessing the opening a cosmic wormhole that let candidates club women over the head and drag them backwards by the hair through the women’s liberation movement and refight the Civil War  - Texans even talked secession - all at the same time.

Twelve debates in six months! That’s more than you see your parents. Good thing you didn’t. They would have sent you to bed.

It didn’t really matter whether you considered the day a win or not. The president comes out in support of gay marriage? The Supreme Court says ObamaCare stands? Dizzy with joy still means you feel dizzy.

You told yourself you felt fine. But really – you weren’t. Sure, you’d sneeze into the crook of your arm, like they teach little kids now; you cover your mouth when you cough. But still  - you noticed, your friends would back up a bit when they were talking to you. Someone even offered you a seat on the subway once.

It was full on, now – but you still didn’t want to call in sick.

Til the conventions finally did you in.

Clint Eastwood and the chair?  Lyin’ Paul Ryan being called out even by Fox News? The “Comeback Kid” came back! But you were bummed that the Democrats didn’t fix the balloon drop. Everyone likes balloons.

One presidential debate in, and you’re one with your sofa. With a sniffling, sneezing, coughing, achey I-wish-someone-would-come-home-just-to-pass-me-the-remote-because-I-dropped-it kind of lurgy.

You’re coughing so hard you think you might break a rib.

You’ve finally admitted you’re sick. The whole thing is sick – a gross distortion of once cherished democratic principles warped beyond the standard trifecta of greed, money, and power by ideological extremism, arcane electoral law, and a polarized media vacuum, lying atop newand highly-combustible tranches of money serving as catalyst to a toxic chemical reaction with integrity, truth, and fact so badly disfigured it’s unlikely they’ll ever be recognizable again.

On both sides.

Shit. It was the haze. The haze is what made you sick.

Maybe it would be easier if you just slept here. The cold tile on the bathroom floor actually feels kind of good. Besides, it doesn’t feel safe enough to go back to the bedroom.  There’s the vice presidential debate and two more presidential debates.

It looked like EtchasketchSandraflukeOsamaTaxes the last time you threw up. It tastes like Youdidn’tbuildthat if you belch.

Pain and nausea really do make time slow down.

My god, you never knew the birds started chirping this early.

Three weeks out. You allow yourself a flicker of hope that maybe the worst is over. The haze will start to clear. It’ll work its way out of your system, like Big Bird memes fading from Facebook. If you just drag your sorry ass through the next little while, you’ll start to feel better.

We’ll all start to feel better. 

After all, we can’t even be stupid enough to do this to ourselves again. Right?

This piece appeared in The Huffington Post, here.

From the BBC: The foundation of former U.S. President Ronald Reagan has expressed outrage after a vial said to have held a sample of his blood was put on sale in an online auction.

U.K.-based PFC Auctions says the blood was taken from Reagan after the failed 1981 assassination attempt against him.

The PFC website put the latest bid for the vial at £6,270 ($9,910) on Tuesday….

*********

Mitt Romney campaign headquarters. The candidate is in a meeting with a number of his aides, including advisers Eric Fehrnstrom and strategist Ed Gillespie. He’s displaying an intensely angry side of himself the public’s never seen.

“Goddammit, Eric, how’d it get out that there’s a vial of Reagan blood out there?” Romney storms. “I’ll fire the bastard who leaked it — and we all know I’m good at firing people!”

“Governor — “

“An auction? Can you imagine how dangerous this would be if it fell into Gingrich’s hands ahead of the convention? Bachmann’s?” Romney yells. “That blood can seal the presidency!”

“We’ve confirmed the blood is still in the U.K.,” Gillespie says. “Gingrich’s people are no closer to getting it than we are.”

Romney is fuming.

“With the Blood of Reagan, I could warn against the perils of Big Government spending, while raising the debt ceiling 18 times,” he says. “I could reform Social Security and Medicare without decimating them.”

Romney looks up. “I could be the national father figure everyone craves — not a guy from a Land’s End catalog.”

“Yes, Governor, we’re aware.”

“So why can’t I just give them a million dollars for it? For god’s sake, how many Super PACs do I have?”

“If word got out that you offered a million dollars for the Blood of Reagan, when the highest offer is under $10 thousand,” Fehrnstrom says, “you’d look as out of touch with the middle class as when you bet Rick Perry during the middle of a debate.”

“Is that so, Etch-a-Sketch?” Romney sneers. “I want that blood.”

“But what if there’s a trend? I’m not sure we want to risk having the Tea Party trying to dig up the Founding Fathers,” Gillespie says. “I mean — literally.”

“The Blood of Reagan means a landslide victory,” Romney says, sounding envious. “And invasions that only last a weekend!”

“But there’s something else,” Fehrnstrom says. He shifts uncomfortably. “It could turn you into a Democrat.”

“How so?”

“Well, Obama in many ways is just a 90’s era Republican — especially on defense. And he killed bin Laden. So you’ve got to play to the right of that,” Gillespie says. “Having you on both sides of every issue just hasn’t been working.”

Fehrnstrom nods. “With Santorum’s anti-women crusade, Tea Party fundamentalism and Boehner’s campaign of contrarianism, America’s been pulled so far to the right, that the Blood of Reagan would shift you left on the political spectrum — once and for all!”

“Is that really so bad, for the former governor of Massachusetts?” Romney looks momentarily thoughtful. “I mean, I hate having to disavow Romneycare.”

Fehrnstrom looks alarmed. “Think about it! The Blood of Reagan turns the Republican presidential candidate into a Democrat? You can’t do it! The party would finally collapse in on itself! The Republican narrative can’t take any more blows!”

The room goes quiet.

“What would it look like,” Romney asks softly, “if I turned Democrat?”

“It wouldn’t look too different,” the Gillespie says. “First, you’d hear yourself apologizing for attacking that gay kid, and supporting gay marriage.”

“But it wouldn’t be too bad,” Gillespie says. “You’d still have record numbers of lobbyists. Indefinite detentions. And you’d still have drones.”

Romney thinks for a moment. “But if Gingrich gets the blood? Before Tampa?”

“We spin it as a transparent attempt to manipulate the memory of a pillar of the Republican party, when being Republican meant bringing down Communism without firing a shot, it meant uniting the country during times of national tragedy, not dividing it, and it meant putting the public interest over political sabotage.”

“Besides, it could turn Gingrich into a Democrat, too,” says Gillespie, “just when he needs to get back on the lecture and punditry circuit. He hasn’t got the nerve.”

“What if we get the blood, but hold off on using it unless we really need to?” Romney asks. “Just so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Fehrnstrom exhales.

“We can do that,” he says. “We’ll send someone to the U.K. today. We don’t want the Obama people making a move.”

Romney speaks quietly, but with conviction. “I could really use that blood.”


Also running on The Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mp-nunan/mitt-romney-and-the-blood_b_1537184.html 

Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the latest installment of  “Who’s the Biggest Ass,” the contest that pits the behavior of defendants at war crime tribunals against each other and - against the validity of the tribunals themselves! I’m Jim Savage, and this is Bob Sisco.

BOB:   That’s right! And our next contest looks set to be a doozy!  It’s Serbian military commander Ratko Mladic at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia in the Hague….

JIM: …. versus Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, architect of the September 11th attacks on New York and Washington, and his four co-defendants arraigned at the military tribunal in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba!

JIM:  Before we begin, let’s go over the rules for our viewers new to “Who’s the Biggest Ass.”

BOB:  Here at WBA, we examine cases of international jurisprudence based on criteria including questions of due process, the validity and impartiality of the court itself, and the abominable behavior of defendants during the trial!  Because behaving like an ass is a point of pride for many!

JIM:  Remember, if you’re megalomaniacal enough to orchestrate the massacre of, for example, your nation’s ethnic or religious minorities, you’re unlikely to recognize the authority of the court!  

BOB: Our referees will reward the defendants points based on appalling behavior, but these points can be subtracted when questions of the court’s integrity and legitimacy come into play. Each defendant starts with 50 points.

JIM:  The winner is the defendant who’s less of an ass - although in cases like these, many defendants appear to be going for the opposite goal!

BOB:  Now let’s take a look - and right off the bat, 5 points awarded to Mladic as he walks into the courtroom as he gives a “thumbs-up” sign to Serbian supporters in the public gallery! 

JIM: All signs of arrogance are fair play for our refs at the WBA! But the refs are overlooking the insults hurled at Mladic as he walked in - including someone who called him a “vulture.”

BOB:   Let’s go to the charges that brought “the Butcher of Bosnia” to the dock.  He faces 11 charges including genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity - with a special focus on the massacre of 8 thousand Muslim men and boys in Srebenica in 1995 - in the single worst atrocity on European soil since World War II.

JIM:  That’s right  - and that was a UN designated “safe haven,” where Dutch peacekeepers oversaw what was arguably the worst systemic failure of the United Nations ever.

BOB:  And with friends like that, who needs….

JIM:  Oh no, you didn’t…!

BOB:  Alright, I’ll leave it alone! Let’s not forget Mladic’s role in the 44 month Siege of Sarajevo!  Look at this! Another 10 points to Mladic for drawing his finger across his throat in response to a Bosnian Muslim woman in the public gallery.

JIM: That’s a threat of execution if I ever saw one!

BOB:  I haven’t had this much fun since Saddam Hussein ranted at the court during his 2006 tribunal in Baghdad!

JIM: And what an end to that case!  A pre-dawn secret hanging as Iraqi executioners mocked and videotaped the defendant —  just hammering the ‘legitimacy’ score — resulting in a posthumous upset for Saddam!

BOB: It’s just too bad he couldn’t enjoy it.

JIM: We’re off to a rip-roaring start in the Hague, but let’s turn our attention now to Guantanamo Bay and the most awaited trial of the past decade!

JIM:  And it’s been chaos since the very beginning!

BOB:  First, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed was awarded 20 points off the bat for refusing to respond to judges’ questions - half of which were immediately subtracted because one of his co-defendants was wheeled into the courtroom in restraints, for no apparent reason! 

JIM:  And now - what’s this? Oh! Another 10 points to the defendants for standing up in the middle of proceedings to pray! 

BOB:  We can expect that to be a common theme throughout proceedings as the Islamic extremist defendants are expected to pray five times a day!

JIM:  Let’s watch now as the refs gather to discuss some points of due process… this could hit the courtroom hard…..

BOB:  …. This is the second time these defendants have been arraigned since 2008…. That’s already a long time since 9/11…..and the Feds couldn’t get it together to have a trial in New York City,  or to close Guantanamo as President Obama promised he’d do his first year in office….

JIM:  The refs have made their decision, ohmygod! It’s a staggering one at that!  Seventy-five points subtracted for a lack of due process, transparency, and access to clients by their lawyers!

BOB:  That’s got to make defense attorney Cheryl Bormann happy. As the sole female member of the defense team, she’s so committed to this trial, she’s wearing nearly a full burqa to appease her clients, and asking prosecutors to dress more conservatively.

JIM:  A move that our WBA refs have not figured out how to score!

BOB:  Wow.  I’m not sure military prosecutors can ever come from behind to beat a 75 point loss! The questionable integrity of the proceedings will overshadow any bad behavior by the defendants and any verdict that’s reached!

JIM:   That’s much less of a problem in the Hague, where the tribunal on the former Yugoslavia is seen as a infinitely more valid legal forum for the application of international law!

BOB:  True, but perhaps defense attorneys there may question the quid pro quo! Serbia only handed over Mladic so it could enter the European Union!

JIM:  As if they’d want to now! But look at this! Here’s Mladic claiming he’s innocent of all charges - but refusing to enter a formal plea!  Ten more points!

 BOB: That’s despite damning video evidence sure to come up of Mladic bragging his way through the days leading up to the Srebenica massacre!

JIM: So let’s call it! After day one of proceedings in both tribunals, Ratko Mladic is the Biggest Ass!

BOB:  Join us as both tribunals continue!

JIM:  And in the years to come, as we hope to bring you the Libyan trial of  Seif al-Qaddafi, versus Joseph Kony in the Hague!

BOB:  Just as soon as they catch him.

The nation of Burma shuffles into its psychologist’s office, and plops down heavily in a chair.

“Thanks for seeing me outside our regular appointment,” Burma says. “I had a really bad weekend.”

“Or a really good one,” says the shrink. “The first reasonably free-and-fair election since 1990?”    

Burma looks up but says nothing. It gives a slight shrug to its shoulders.

“Remember, a lot of these things are about changing your perception,” the psychologist says.

Burma puts its face in its hands.

“Are you regretting what you’ve done?” asks the shrink.  “Wait – don’t answer that yet. What am I calling you today? ‘Burma’ or ‘Myanmar?’”

“Honestly – either one is fine.” Burma says, slouching in its chair. “Although I’m feeling in a slightly more Myanmar mood.”

“OK, Myanmar,” the shrink says. “The military’s held power since 1962 when it took over in a coup. They reigned with impunity for decades – hitting all the demagoguery hallmarks – locking up dissidents, refusing elections, forbidding a free press and more.

The last time you held a free election in 1990, the National League for Democracy swept to power. But you refused to acknowledge the defeat at the polls – and locked up democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi in house arrest or jail for most of the next 20 years.”

Myanmar looks up and exhales. “And I changed my name.”

“But 1990 is where the self-loathing really set in.”

Myanmar just stares at the floor.

“Let’s go over again what you didn’t like about yourself,”  says the shrink.

“I didn’t like how everyone began shunning me,” Myanmar says. “No full diplomatic relations. Sanctions. And the US, the UK, a lot of Europe, and a bunch of my own people, they don’t call me by my new name. Everyone keeps insisting on ‘Burma.’”

“China and ASEAN call you by your new name.”

“They just wanted me for trade reasons. For my natural resources - teak, gemstones, access to my ports. It wasn’t really about me.”

“What else?” asks the psychologist.

“And I don’t like being so near the top of the Failed States Index. Did you know the Democratic Republic of Congo scores better than me?”

“Remember, there’s a simple cause and effect here. Your border wars represent the longest running civil war in the world,” the psychologist says.

“It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“All these things make you angry – and remember, what’s the addiction pattern you fall into when you’re angry?”

Myanmar looks down at the floor.  He mumbles something.

“What’s that?” asks shrink.

“I use absolute power to hurt others,” Myanmar says.

“That’s right. Arresting and re-arresting Aung San Suu Kyi? Refusing aid to victims of Cyclone Nargis? The bloody crackdown on monks – monks, for heaven’s sake, during the Saffron Revolution? How did that make you feel?”

“It felt really good – for a little while. It was…. ecstatic!” Myanmar says, suddenly lost in an excited revelry.  “Ohmygod, I love that feeling of, of – omnipotence.”

The shrink looks at Myanmar steadily. “But we’ve talked about this. When that buzz from absolute power wears off, how do you feel?”

“Worse.”  Myanmar catches his shrink’s eye.  Its tone is like a dejected teenager’s. “Worse than when I started.”

There’s a pause.

“But I’m really proud of you,” the shrink says.

“You are?

“What you did this past weekend?  The first more-or-less free and fair election since 1990?  Even if it was just a by-election, that was a giant step forward!”

“You keep saying, but then why do I feel so awful?” Myanmar asks.

“Because the election and reforming parliament – those are just first steps.  Of course you’re feeling unsteady.”

The shrink stops and leans forward.  “Look at me. This is where you were in 1990.   You’ve got to take responsibility for your actions, without relying on absolute power.  If the NLD’s 40 some-odd parliamentary seats add up to more influence than you thought? No locking anyone up, no disbanding parliament, no falling back on your addiction pattern.”

“But how do I know what comes next?”  Myanmar asks.

“You don’t,” says the shrink.  “Giving up absolute power is about being brave. In a democracy, the fact that you don’t know doesn’t matter.”

Myanmar scoffs. “Sounds a little utopian, if you ask me.”

The shrink leans back in his chair again.  He thinks for a moment.

“You know how you’ll know it’s working? Everyone will start calling you ‘Myanmar.’”

“They will?”

“Once you start acting like you deserve to be called by the name you want, people will start calling you by the name you want,” the shrink says. “Not just China and ASEAN. Your own people. Everyone.”

“Even Hillary Clinton?” 

“Even Hillary Clinton.”

The psychologist smiles.  “They’ll even start calling you ‘Myanmar’ on the Failed States Index.”

Myanmar tries not to - but lets out a short laugh.

“See that? I made you smile. You have got a sense of humor!”

Myanmar’s trying to be mad, but it’s still smiling.

“Ok,” says the shrink. “When do you have to ratify the results of the election?”

“Later this week, maybe,” Myanmar says.

“I want you to call me if you’re having any second thoughts.  Any time, day or night. You have my cell and my home number.”

Myanmar stands up, preparing to go.  “OK.” It’s back to sounding unconvinced.

“You’ve got a lot of people counting on you,” the shrink says. “You can do it this time.” 

“I know, I know,” Myanmar says. “It’s my decision.”

Also on:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mp-nunan/burma-elections_b_1398107.html

With Super Tuesday showing no clear winner yet in the Republican primaries, God has signaled that he may throw his hat in the ring for the nomination at the Republican National Convention.

While former pronouncements from the Almighty have taken the form of burning bushes or stone tablets, God’s most recent announcement came via his Twitter feed @DivineBeingforreal – where He posted a link to a recent interview with Oprah, one of his chosen ones.

“My name is being invoked by so many candidates –Gingrich, Santorum, Romney – I might as well run, and cut out the self-appointed middle man,”  God told the talk-show host.

Frontrunner Mitt Romney, a Mormon, is still struggling against the surprisingly strong showing by Rick Santorum, a devout Catholic.  Twice-divorced and a recent Catholic convert, Newt Gingrich has been lagging behind in the polls.  All have invoked religious faith as being central to their presidencies.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve heard this many references to me since the Ten Plagues,” said the Lord, who appeared to be in a jovial mood.

“What do you think if we put ‘One nation, under God’ on a bumper sticker?”

Yet God resisted Oprah’s efforts pin him to specifics with questions such as “which God are we going to see at the convention – Old Testament or New,”  intended to provoke a discussion on His viewpoint on gay marriage, abortion and health care.  

Oprah also teased the Lord, asking whether the fire and brimstone rantings of Leviticus were  “like the experimentation we all did in college.”

The Creator gave little away. But He may have shown his hand slightly with a comment about Rick Santorum’s recent declaration that the Crusades “get a bad rap.”

“I mean, what’s next? The Spanish Inquisition?” God chuckled.

Speculation has risen in the media in recent weeks on the possibility of a “brokered” convention, in which no single candidate has a majority of delegates in the first round of voting – paving the way for a dark horse candidate to emerge.

Until the Divine Being’s Twitter posting, much of that speculation revolved around former vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin and New Jersey Governor Chris Christie – both of whom God dismissed with a shrug.

Influencing the vote of the 1,144 convention delegates needed to secure the nomination is “not exactly parting the Red Sea,” He said. 

It’s not clear how the Republican party establishment will react to the Almighty’s possible candidacy. Said one Senator, “God may be too far to the left for today’s GOP.”

God underlined that he had not made any decision yet as to whether he would throw his hat in the ring at the Convention, or if not – whether he would endorse any of the other candidates, or President Obama.  He encouraged candidates to worry less about the religious doctrine and to think more about serving their constituents.

“If you put blind faith in me, you’re going to get what you came for,” He said. 

Also running on:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mp-nunan/god-emerges-as-possible-c_b_1325518.html

Inside what looks like the bar in an airport departures terminal. It’s dimly lit, with dark wooden tables and faux leather chairs failing to give the place the touch of class it aspires to. Cigarette smoke wafts through the air.

Nearby, an airport gate which -  despite giving off a faint glow - exudes the unmistakable sense of long-running delays.

Christopher Hitchens, British-American man of letters, is holding court at a table with Muammar Qaddafi and  Osama bin Laden, when a disoriented-looking Kim Jong Il walks in, wearing his classic 1950’s civil servants suit and Floridian retiree sunglasses. His hair is in a perfect pompadour.

“Do join us,” Hitch says, pouring another glass of whiskey. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Collecting himself, Kim sits down and grabs his glass and immediately begins to make a toast.

“As befits the great and glorious reign of myself, the Dear Leader, I’m greeted in paradise by a table of visionaries! Let’s drink to - ”

“Visionaries! You’re no visionaries!” Hitch sneers. He takes a drag on his cigarette. “We saw Vaclav Havel sail on by the other day.  He was a visionary. Alas, there’s a reason why we’re stuck here. As much as it repels me to use such a term, this is purgatory.”

“Purgatory?” Kim asks.

Qaddafi nods.  “I’ve been here for months.”

“We’re the Class of 2011,” Hitchens says.

Osama bin Laden looks unconvinced. “What right do you think you have, Infidel, to share the afterlife with me?”

“Yeah,” Qaddafi says, looking up. “You’re an atheist. Why did you make it even as far as purgatory?”

Hitch shrugs. “At least I’m here by the volition of thought,” he says. “A lifetime spent arguing against the compulsive need of people to invent a celestial dictator to which they willfully subject themselves, because they lack the courage to live lives based on free thought.”

Hitch takes a sip from his drink.

“That, and decades spent combating those who are so arrogant, so corrupt and manipulative, that they assume the ability to hear from a divine being, in order to influence the secular affairs of state.” He downs the rest of his drink.

“You’re just dictators,” Hitch says. 

“Bullshit. You’re here for dissing Mother Theresa,” Osama sneers.

“Yeah,” Kim laughs. “Are you finally going to admit that you’re wrong?”

“We don’t know that yet,” Hitch says, still confident. “We don’t know what’s on the other side of that gate,” he says, gesturing to the faint glow. “It could be nothingness.”

“And it could be the 72 young virgins sent to celebrate my martyrdom,” Qaddafi says.

 “Ohmygod - you were so not martyred!” Osama says. “You died at the hands of your own people – not for the great Allah! There are no virgins for you!”

“Oh, and I suppose getting shot in the face by US Navy Seals instead of an evening spent  jerking off is going to get you face-time with the Prophet?”  Qaddafi retorts.

Hitch ignores them to calmly finish his point.

“Gentlemen, isn’t the fact that I’m here proof that prayer is useless? After all, if supplication were some kind of entrance requirement to meet a Master Deity, then why am I here at all?” Hitch reaches for the whiskey bottle. “The arguments I made in my lifetime remain beyond reproach.”

“I love, love, love supplication,” Kim Jong Il pipes in. “And prostration. Have you seen Pyongyang this week? So much wailing and gnashing of teeth!” 

“Gnashing of teeth because there’s nothing to chew,” says Qaddafi.

“Oh – like your people are so much better off.” Kim retorts. He downs a quick shot. “My son, the Great Successor, will carry on with my work and that of my father, the Supreme Leader.  Your son’s going to end up in the Hague.”

“Maybe you should drop the ‘Supreme Leader’ bit,” Hitch says drily, “if you’re so convinced that you’re imminently going to meet someone who’s even more so. You’re running out of superlatives.”

Kim’s annoyed. “Go waterboard yourself, Hitch.”

“There’s no one greater than Allah,” interjects Osama.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Hitch yells. “He doesn’t exist! And you know it!”

Osama’s about to speak when Hitch stops him.

“If you were so keen on impressing an Almighty Being,” Hitch asks, “what did you ever accomplish? Driving Americans out of the Holy Land – that was just a premise to feed your own sick ego - that had absolutely nothing to do with improving the lives of the Muslims you claim to hold so dear.”

Hitch downs another shot. “What did it get you? Driven out of Afghanistan, a hundred thousand Muslims dead in Iraq.”

“A war that you supported!”  Osama yells.

“Yes, I did!” storms Hitch. He takes a look around. “Come to think of it, where is Saddam? I’ve got a bone to pick with him about the Kurds.”

Suddenly, an electronic chime rings, as if a boarding announcement is about to be made.   The table immediately quiets down, as everyone turns to look at the gate – which glows a little brighter. For a moment, they all hold their breath.

“Nothing,” says Qaddafi, exhaling. “It just does that sometimes.”

“Gentlemen, I think we’re here for a while more,” Hitch says, pouring more whiskey.  “Let’s put money on who’s next.  Assad? Mugabe?”

“Kissinger?”  Kim Jong Il offers brightly.  

Hitch smiles. “I’ll drink to that.”

Omar, Qaddafi’s loyal-ish translator, peers carefully from behind a curtain at the scene below him.  He and Moammar Qaddafi are in Sirte, where rebel fighters can be seen amassing in the street - closing in on their secret bunker.   (For more on Omar’s recent history – from Qaddafi’s UN speech to his efforts to contact the Libyan rebels, please read here and here.)

As casually as he can, Omar pulls a cellphone out of his pocket and starts to write a text message.

Suddenly Qaddafi spins him around by the shoulder.

“Who are you contacting!?!” he screams.  Qaddafi’s face is haggard. His Africa broach droops listlessly to one side.

“I am merely sending good wishes to His Excellency Seif al-Islam al Qaddafi,” Omar says, referring to Qaddafi’s son – conspicuous by his absence in the secret bunker. 

Qaddafi looks confused. Disloyalty is something he has a hard time processing.

“I’m just surprised that the rebels have closed in so quickly since you’ve been in charge of the phone,”  Qaddafi says.  “And since they announced that reward for my capture.”

“A coincidence, sir.” Omar does his best to look casual, despite the line of sweat forming on his brow. “I mean, they always knew your hometown was Sirte.”

Qaddafi exhales, losing some of his anger. He paces across the room, sitting down on a sofa.  A pistol lies on a coffee table.

He puts his head in his hands.  Omar takes a quick moment to push the curtain aside, and wave furiously at the rebels below – before shoving the curtain back.

“Are you sure Seif’s merely gone for reinforcements?” Qaddafi looks up. “And he hasn’t fled like the rest of the family to Algeria?”

“I’m certain it’s the former, Your Excellency,”  Omar says.

“Hillary Clinton was in Tripoli the other day,” Qaddafi sighs. “I wish it was Condi.”

He picks up the pistol and starts playing with it.  “My compound has been bulldozed. Everything’s shot to hell.”

Omar listens, keeping an eye on the gun.

“I’ve always sworn I’d die a martyr in Libya,” Qaddafi says. “But lately, I’ve started thinking about arguments I can make in the Hague. I want to make clear to the world the crimes of the CIA, their NATO stooges and that greasy rebel scum.”

Omar’s face falls. He swallows. This was not part of the game plan.

“Honestly, I think martyrdom’s better than the Hague,” he says, tentatively.

Qaddafi looks up.  Omar pauses for a moment before speaking.

“I mean, are people still talking about Milosevic? No. But Hitler comes up in conversation with amazing frequency – 65 years later.”

“Only Muslims can be true martyrs,”  Qaddafi says, eyeing his handgun.

“Exactly my point, Your Excellency.”  Omar swallows hard. “That infidel has had 65 years of glory – all because he knew how to take advantage of a secret bunker moment – not unlike this one.”

“They’d have to listen to me at a trial,” Qaddafi says.

Omar pauses for a moment. He desperately needs to sound neutral. 

“But Your Excellency,” he says gently. “How’d that work out for Saddam Hussein?”

Qaddafi suddenly turns and points the gun at Omar.  Rebel solders can be heard not far from the door.

“And why shouldn’t I take you as my servant in the afterlife?”

Omar tries to remain steady.  “So I can tell your supporters of the glory of your martyrdom.”  He swallows hard.  “Remember, we’ve got to beat 65 years.”

Suddenly – a  gunshot rings out, as rebel soldiers burst into the room.  Qaddafi lies wounded, possibly dead.  And Omar?

(BBC) Libyan rebels have announced an amnesty for anyone within Col Muammar Gaddafi’s “inner circle” who captures or kills him, and a $1.7m (£1m) reward.

Col Gaddafi’s whereabouts are unknown, though rebels have said they think he is still in or around Tripoli.

Rebels fighters have fought running battles in the capital, where pockets of pro-Gaddafi resistance remain.

The fugitive leader has vowed in an audio message to fight until victory or martyrdom.

************

Deep inside a secret bunker, probably in Tripoli.

Moammar Qaddafi, his son Seif al-Islam al-Qaddafi, and Qaddafi’s loyal-ish translator, Omar are watching a satellite television news report. It reveals there is a $1.7 million bounty on Qaddafi.  (Read Omar’s history here.)

 “One point seven million? One point seven?” Qaddafi fumes. “That’s all I’m worth to them?”

Seif exhales. “Perhaps that’s not the part we should be focusing on, Dad.”

“The King of Kings  - worth a measly $1.7 million?”  Qaddafi starts to stride around the room. 

“Has Hugo Chavez returned any of your phone calls yet, Dad?” Seif’s tone is impatient.

“What about Lockerbie? What about Libyan oil? They spend a $200 million a day in Afghanistan! And I’m only worth $1.7?”

“Dad – “

Qaddafi is ranting now. “I am the ‘Mad Dog’ of the Middle East! Reagan said so!”

Omar pipes up.  “The bounty does not come from the American Satan. It’s from the rebels – the National Transitional Council.  In Benghazi.”

Qaddafi stops mid-stride and stares at Omar. An uneasy silence falls over the room.

Seif turns to Omar.  “You think the CIA has nothing to do with this?”

“Of course they do!”  Omar quickly recovers. “I spit upon the them! You are the Glory that is Libya!”

The tension is broken when Qaddafi’s cellphone beeps. It’s a text message.

“Chavez?” Seif sounds hopeful.

“Mugabe.”  Qaddafi sounds disappointed. “Zimbabwe would do anything to have the King of Kings live among them.”

“I am so not living in Zimbabwe,” Seif says. “It’s a basket-case. And Mugabe has a Hitler moustache.”

Seif looks caught in a day-dream.  “Venezuela, on the other hand, is a nice oil state. With an anti-American dictator. You know – a guy you can trust.”

“You should be careful with a cellphone,” Omar pipes up.  “The rebels could trace your locati –“

He stops short.

“What’s that?” Seif snaps out of his revelry.

“Nothing – nothing,” Omar says.

The cellphone beeps again with a text.  “Mugabe – again!” Qaddafi fumes. “And I’ve heard nothing back from Castro!”

“Fidel or Raul?” Seif asks. 

“Either.”  Qaddafi is staring at his phone.

“May I send the reply to President Mugabe?” Omar ventures.  He swallows hard. “I mean, if it’s too much trouble for Your Excellency.”

Qaddafi thrusts the phone at Omar.  “One point seven million.  I spend more on a single party . I spent more on my unit of female bodyguards.”

“I know, Dad. But maybe it’s time we call Chavez again. Our forces can only hold on to the airport for so long. ”

“There will be no spiderhole in my future!” Qaddafi yells. “I will not be in the Hague! I will die a martyr in Libya!”

“Dad! Remember what we discussed!”  Seif is angry. “That’s only if Chavez doesn’t call!”

A cellphone rings. Qaddafi and Seif look up.

“Whoops!” Omar says. “I accidentally dialed my own number!”  

“So now you have my father’s private number?”  Seif looks suspicious.

“Oh! Do I? No problem! I’ll delete it!”  Omar says, as a line of sweat appears on his brow.   “Let me try ringing Mugabe.”

Seif looks at him through narrow eyes. 

“Maybe I’ll try the call in another room,” Omar says, standing. “The signal in a secret bunker - umm, you know?”

“Well, hurry up,” Seif says. “We’re going to try back Chavez.”

“Maybe Syria would take us,” Qaddafi says. “Have we tried Assad?”

“He’s pretty busy this week too, Dad.”

A small voice can be heard up the hall.  “Hello? I need a number for the National Transitional Council.  In Benghazi.”

Omar glances up the hallway at Qaddafi and Seif.

“Yes, I’ll hold.”