Ooglay Hussein's Diary

Good evening to you Pig Americans! Here I am, being still Ooglay! Ooglay Hussein, the son of the rightful ruler of Iraq, cradle of all human history! Here is the thing you are thinking you would say to me if I was some place I could hear you: "Ooglay! Where is it you have been being?" And I would say that is a stupid thing to ask me when if you were where I could hear you you would be in the New Yorks Times office and would know it is I who am managing editor now because my name is on the door that says so. Stupid American.

Here is why. So you should know I was last in Hollywood and got this job as reporter because some brown skin man was fired for making up some story about a girl soldier who was invading my country but your country has laws so they had to replace him with somebody who was not a white American man and I am having experience writing here so it is me. So hey, no sooner do I come here but they fire brown skin managings editor so who can take his place? Ooglay is who!

So I start right away running things the way my Glorious Father, for whom Allah wears a smile, ran his country. "This is not so different from Mr Rain leadership" is what the workers there are saying. So it is good to know people everywhere expect a good beating when they anger their betters.

But here is a different thing I do. There was a Moose, but now there are sandals. I am having a cousin who is Al Quada guy who sells sandals in a shop near the UN building and also does interpreter thing there on the side. (One day for fun he is letting me do some interpreter on the side because I am speaker of France, English, and many dialects of my homeland. It is fonny I said wrong thing on purpose as joke but France ambassador believes it and is soon meeting me in central park with briefcase full of money to preserve oil rights with Saud family! This is easy money, the French believe anything they hear that is not American. But that is long complicated story and I am not telling it now. Next time though I am going to start a war for fun.)

Now though I am telling of getting hundreds of pairs of sandals from my cousin paid for by Times with finders fee and profit sharing for me and my cousin also gives a kickback, it is no crime if I did not tell him what he does not ask! So what I make more on sandals then him? It is proving Allah loves me more.

Now everyone who is making me happy at newspaper is getting sandals. And all are wanting them because they are not just for wearing. If you have these sandals now at NY Times you are allowed to strike anyone who angers you as often as you like. I am sure you are seeing the attraction; it is not being surprising to me that these people will do anything for the earning of sandals. Some give money so my wealth increases even more. Some do other things. A girl writer who is not to be named tried to demonstrate some talent she had but after I was finished slapping her hindquarters with sandals I was not going to give her some to use on me! Sorry Maureen!

So at first the people who had some sandals would only use them on interns and mail room types who moved a bit too slow, but soon they learned I wanted them used on reporters and others here too. I have never seen some group so eager to inflict the slappings of the sandals on one another! They are gleeful when they are applying this discipline. They call it "total cultural immersion" and "celebrating diversity", but I think they just are getting what you call jollies. And do not be the one who shows weakness! This makes the whole office come after you. And they are much worse then the crowd who smacked my Glorious Father's statue (may the pilings of one thousand camels line every path they walk) I am telling you now! The painful screams of whoever they are slapping only drive them to more frenzied smacks.

So the Publisher I am worried will not be happy to see all the slappings, but he is loving it! "You have certainly shaken the heirarchal structure here, boy!" He is saying and giving me cigar. "Let's go to my club and discuss the leadership and managment technique book we're going to write together!"

Then as we are leaving he is laughing and sandalslapping my secretary and the doorman!

Hah! Moose was stupid, yes?