Qaddafi Duck

A face only a mother could love

He's on the run, like a hunted fox, or better yet, a hunted skunk. He welcomed the Lockerbie bomber, Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi, with open arms--his son almost kissed this dickwad on the lips, as he exited the plane and was showered in roses by the Libyan crowd. Now Qaddafi's country is in turmoil and his countrymen would like nothing more than to have his head on a platter--literally--but they can't find the guy.

And worse, nobody really knows how to spell his name. Qaddafi, Gaddafi, Gadaffi, Grafitti. It doesn't really matter, because he's going to be found, but I suspect, he'll get away with his life intact because some Muslim group is going to protect him. They see his hatred of America as a good thing. But of course, I could be wrong.


I don't believe that Qaddafi is a fool--he's like that Mafia don who wears pajamas in the middle of the day, walks around the streets of Little Italy smoking Cuban cigars, and pretending he's crazy so that the repurcussions for killing people will be minimal. That's Qaddafi--as crazy as a fox.

Nice cologne, Tony, and I love the way you dance

When he's caught, I hope he is put on trial and I hope he gets what he gave--the death penalty. That's called justice and he deserves nothing less. But Tony Blair and the UK may not agree. They gave up the Lockerbie bomber when Qaddafi threatened the UK with jihad if they didn't let him go free--with humanitarian considerations when the bastard was supposedly dying in 3 months from cancer--that was several years ago and al-Megrahi is still alive.

Oh well, we shall see what becomes of this dictator--if the UK had their way, he would live out his days in peace, because the UK has become a country of enablers--they're often called dhimmies. 

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