To: Bella_Bru
Somewhere in Syria, tired and broke, Saddam and his two sons are pounding the pavement, looking for work. They see a sign that says “Tanbul’s Employment Agency.” Saddam tells the boys to wait outside, and he walks in.
“ Istanbul here?”
“ What can I do for you?”
“ I Saudi sign outside. I need a job.”
“ Kuwait a minute. Here is my assistant, Aviv. Tel-Aviv your job history. What can you do?”
“ Do? Ha! Iran Iraq.”
“ That Israel bad. Please, sit down on that Afghan. Would you like an almond?”
“ Jordan?”
“ Of course. We had Turkey for lunch, but it’s gone.”
“ Too bad. I am a little Hungary.”
“ Let’s get to your qualifications. Are you computer literate? Do you speak other languages?”
“ Well, Qusay and Uday sold some stuff on E-Bay.”
“ No, Pig-Latin won’t help. There aren’t many jobs available.”
“ Are you serious?”
“ Close. Syrian. “
“ Would you relocate. How about Beirut?”
“ Overrated. Lou Gehrig was better. “
“ Do you have any friends in Palestine?”
“ Yassir.”
“ Could you give me their names?”
“ Yassir.”
“ You are getting to be a pain in Damascus. What did you actually do in your last job?”
“ The usual—lie, cheat, steal, rape.”
“ Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. You sound like a demo-freaking-crat. Pardon my tmesis.”
“ Look, do you have a job for me or not. Amman must eat to live.”
“ Well, there is an assistant checkout boy at the local non-Piggly Wiggly.”
“ Medical benefits?”
“ No doctors, but, if your back aches, there is a Cairo practor.”
“ I’ll take it."
Saddam walks outside, and asks his sons, “What does an assistant checkout boy do?”
They answer simultaneously: “He puts groceries in a Baghdad.”
29 posted on 04/14/2003 7:49 AM CDT by TruthShallSetYouFree