June 12th- Flew into Baghdad. Saw Nouri, had a nice dinner. Didn't know what the Hell anything was, but it tasted good. Except the meat dish. I think I may have eaten a goat. I'll have to talk to Nouri about that.
June 13th- Went for a walk this morning before breakfast. Dick had said not to, but he also tells me everything is going great here, so why not? Got lost. Went down a side street and got grabbed by two men with guns. They asked if I was an Iraqi, and I said no, and they shoved me in the back of a truck. Could hear them talking up front about the United States government offering a bounty on foreigners caught in Iraq and Pakistan and turning me in for cash. What a damned screw-up. Of course we offer a bounty. Caught quite a few bad-doers with it too, folks who are violent, and amoral, and who like to wage war and kill people for no good reason. But not Americans, for Chrissake! I'll straighten this out when I get to our own people. Boy are these two gonna be sorry. I'll throw their asses in Gitmo.
Now I'm on a godamned plane to Gitmo.
June 16th- Unbelievable. I'm in a damned cell with a Saudi carpenter and two Indian software engineers. This is a seriously screwed-up system. Nobody will listen to a word I say. I want a telephone! I want my lawyer! They just laugh at me. I have to talk with Cheney about this when I get back. I'm gonna talk with Don too. They can't do this to me. I'm a do-gooder, not a bad-doer. Fucking assholes.
June 19th- Today I met my "lawyer", a junior-grade Lieutenant named Jack from the motor pool. Apparently Cheney set it up so we don't get lawyers, we get "representatives" who don't know a damned thing about law. Jack was sympathetic but said there was not much he could do. According to Jack they don't have to let me get in touch with anyone or charge me with anything or ever let me go. That doesn't sound very American to me, and I told him so. He laughed like I'd said something funny.
When I get back some heads are gonna roll, boy.
June 20th- They got me up at 3 a.m. by playing Barry Manilow music full blast outside the cell. Played it for 12 hours straight. That has to be against some Convention or other. I wish I hadn't said we were going to ignore those, but nobody told me about Barry Manilow. That's just not right. It's wrong.
June 22nd- Jack says they've classified me as an 'enemy combatant'! I asked him why. Well, I didn't ask. I yelled. A lot. The guards came in and tied me up. Assholes. I'm making a list, boy.
Anyway, Jack said he didn't know, they won't show him my file. He says they classified it 'secret', so they don't have to show it to him. I told him that I have rights, you know, like it says in the Constitution. That asshole laughed and quoted me stuff I said about it being a 'godamned piece of paper'.
I took a swing at him and they put me in solitary.
I hate Jack.
June 23rd- They've been playing Roger Miller's 'King of the Road' outside my cell since midnight. 'No phone, no pool, no pets'. They think it's pretty funny. Assholes.
June 24th- I finally bribed a guard to smuggle me a cell phone. Called Dick Cheney. He said he'd "see what he could do". I said he'd better fucking "see", and damn fast! Cheney started dodging, he said that I signed some law or other giving myself no rights in here, and then he mumbled something about "rules" and "working with the system". I hung up on him.
I hate Dick Cheney.
June 26th- I'm free! Mom called Dick and gave him a piece of her mind, so Dick signed some papers and I'm going home. This experience has really opened my eyes. I understand now that it really is against all the values we stand for to round up people without any real evidence against them, jail them without charge, hold them indefinitely without trial or a lawyer, and leave them here to rot. When I get back to Washington tomorrow I'm going to make some changes, you bet!
June 27th- Back home! Watched tv with Laura for a while, and now I have to pack for the weekend. We're having a big barbecue at the ranch. I wonder if Ann Coulter is going to be there tomorrow? Laura doesn't like Ann, but I think she's a pistol. Josh Bolton came in and asked what I wanted to "do" about Gitmo. I asked him what the hell he was talking about. Why should I care about a bunch of godamned terrorists? Let 'em rot, I told him.
I like Josh, but he can be pretty dense sometimes.