Dear Mr. Sadaam,

First of all, I would like to ask you how you feel right now…you aren’t sick or dying, you have a clean bill of health? I always thought for a man of your stature that you always looked healthy and in control but when I watch American news, it seems like you have no idea what’s going on. Is that because the American war machine is making me think you’re a bad person or is that you really are? I wish I could know the real Sadaam without all this Iraqi and American bias. You know, understand how you really are, without making you think that you’re the next Hitler. But, of course, Hitler did build the Autobahn and fed the poor. So can’t there be a good side to everyone?
As an American, I warn you that I’m objective about the whole war thing because as most Americans, I’m ignorant about what’s really going on. Mainly I’m ignorant because everything is classified. Do you make everything classified in your country? Because I think it really sucks to have it all be classified. I want to know because I believe I have a right to know. I’m sure you don’t tell your countrymen much. Hell, you won’t even tell people where your nuclear reactors are (not that accusing you of having a nuclear reactor, we Americans just assume you do…so why can’t you just come out and tell us you do…I think that pulling Mr. Dubya’s chain is a pretty stupid idea).
The main purpose of this letter is to warn you to cut the shit. That’s about it, I’m being blunt. I see all the news in America about you claiming all this crap, and it makes me sad that we have to go to war because of this. I’m not blaming you because it’s more America’s love of the black gold and corporate foul play that’s making this war possible. I just think that we wouldn’t have to have anyone die if you said something. I want to know what you think, not what a correspondent in Washington says you think. So Sadaam, please help me out and tell me what you think. I am tired of using my imagination.
I also want to apologize for my country’s involvement with your country. You see, right now in American history, we’ve reached a time where we’re all a little paranoid and we’ve begun to point fingers. It so happens also that our president and his little white (Colin Powell is white, but everything thinks he’s black, just so you know) are pretty ideological that they can stop terrorism single-handedly, which is pretty much, never going to happen. I’m sure you’ve figured out that America is a hole and we need to get out, so we’re pointing the finger at you, Daddy’s nemesis from the Gulf War.
This letter is just to warn you that you might want to change your policies a little. I am not a supporter of pro-American beliefs; I am strictly against the Republican regime, which I am forced to live under. I am just warning you because I believe that everyone must have a chance to run and change their course before they meet their end. If we go to war with you Mr. Sadaam Sir, you will die and your country will become just another McCountry under a ruling of Pro American businessmen. Please change your tune before you end up whistling ‘God Bless America’ in a cell before you are killed off by an American made bullet, made by one of our illegal immigrants.

I only wish you luck because you will need it…and I am sorry.
Fondest wishes for a quick death by a serviceman,

Emily Steele Sauter

Blitzkrieg in Massachusetts

My trip to MA was short, and therefore I was jumping from place to place in a very rapid fashion...but still, it was a good time. My first stop was the cute white house in Milton that belonged to Casey. Casey had just woken up from sleeping when I arrived...so in her signature "Go to Jail" slippers, she greeted me. We went into Boston, ate a bagel...browsed the shops...saw Avril Lavigne was playing at one of the theaters on the 8th and giggled like school girls that "if only we could go..." I was a day of good times, cold weather. We went into the DSW shoe place and I tried on a pair of very feminine shoes, with pointy toe and tall heel...but alas, I cannot wear anything of that nature. I felt like a 6 year old in her mother's stilettos...
After saying goodbye to Casey and all the fun, I drove the 45 minutes to Topsfield to have dinner with Blake Spencer Holt. Blake and I spent a night of passion together under a tree near the CCS building during a thunderstorm while the moon was red during the hottest day of the springtime in April. It's been almost a year since I saw him...Blake, now clad with a gotee and cute little glasses, looks great. He's just a really nice guy, who...unlike some people, actually took the time after our little tryst to get to know me...and I really respect him for just the incredible person he is (and he's still a hottie!). His family also is adorable...Blake says they liked me, so I'm happy about that. Hopefully, I can visit him again soon...
After I left Topsfield, I went to see my old pal Chelsea. We watched Ice Age (what a great movie!) and then, Clarrisa Explains it All was on the "n" channel (whatever that is...we don't get it here, but it looks like my childhood) and it was the great flu episode where Clarrisa and Ferg face have to take care of their sick parents and there's a blizzard and no water...classic sitcom complete with laugh track and adorable characters.
But now I'm home in CT, ready for an afternoon of babysitting, watching "Richie Rich" (my favorite movie of ALL TIME, no joke...what a classic story of money and love) and driving the little critters to swimming, all for a pretty sum of 75 dollars American.
Thanks to all who contributed to my blitzkrieg of Massachusetts: The Spirit of America