by susan lenfestey
It's raining in Minnesota when it should be snowing, and the Sunday papers are spread around this post-Christmas kitchen, where the last of the gifted spritz cookies sit under their foil wraps as crispy as the balsam fir in the living room. The pages of the papers are covered with photos of Gerald Ford and Saddam Hussein -- with the occasional shot of James Brown tossed in, as inconsequential to the big picture as the green sparkles on those dry cookies.
The execution of Saddam is one more twist in the rabbit hole of Bush world, far as I can tell. Even though we're told that the Iraqis were totally and completely in charge of this hasty hanging -- and we have no reason to doubt what we're told about this war -- overseeing executions is what the Decider does best.

As we all know, he was the executioner extraordinaire in Texas, earning the nickname Governor Death for overseeing 152 executions in six years, including those of the mentally ill and impaired, even mocking Karla Faye Tucker's plea for clemency while signing off on her death. Seems to me that a Christian who mewls about the sanctity of life and goes to bat for the brain dead and "snowflake" embryos just might take a moment to ponder the enormity of taking a fully grown adult life, no matter how evil. But then again, having dealt a tragic hand to the lives of 3000 American soldiers and god-knows-how-many Iraqis, clearly there's an impenetrable wall between Mr. Bush -- who turned out to be neither compassionate nor conservative -- and reality. It's as if he's the one wearing the blinding hood of death, and can't see anything around him. Can't wait for him to reveal that new Iraq schtradgy.

I just re-read the NYTimes lengthy review of Saddam's life, and though I never had any doubts, it confirms in detail what we knew; that he was a sadistic demento, casually shooting people after dinner in the way most of us might help ourselves to a mint. If anyone deserves to have the score evened, it's him.
But even this god-denying secular humanist (that's me, to the rabid right) questions whether some being, other than the flawed human variety, should be in charge such a weighty decision as placing a rope around another's neck with the intent of snapping that neck lifeless. I would have preferred to see him serve a life sentence in agony, a sort of hell-on-earth existence, say forcing him be President of the new, post-invasion democratic Iraq, sans perks and palaces, of course.

But seriously, there is so much creepiness in all of this. For one thing, if I may slip in a sports metaphor, it's like we only made it to half-time, and I was so looking forward to the second half. I was looking for the next set of Saddam's trials, where we would learn of Gerald Ford's (oh, the merry irony of that god of ours) and Rummy's (and Cheney's) part in betraying the Kurds in 1975 to keep the oil flowing, and so much more. Not to be. It's so much --- tidier this way. And BTW, it's not personal with our president, this is not about revenge, even though he keeps Saddam's pistol -- the one taken from him when he emerged from the spider hole -- mounted in his private office, right next to the Oval one. Creepy.

Well, death rules I guess, as the newspapers spread around this kitchen point out, with their lists and photos of big-wigs who died in 2006, and as the grim reaper reminds us when he comes tonight for his due.

And that big old chunk of ice that just cracked off in the Arctic, or one of those places where it's supposed to stay very cold, gives me the heebie jeebies too, though as I write this the rain is turning to snow, so I guess global warming is over. When snow is the most hopeful thing you can come across in MN on New Year's Eve, it's time for the meds. Ah, I forgot, the champagne is on ice.

Actually, with the shift of power in the House and Senate -- here in Minnesota and nationally, and with the clock ticking on George Bush's sordid presidency, I am deceptively cheery, and looking forward to this new year. Bring it on.