What's wrong with me?

I know, I know...that phrase gets me automatic downvotes. Oh well. I'm mostly pretty impervious to the whole "I'm so different" angst-cycle bullshit. But over this past week, I've discovered something about myself that I'm kind of creeped out by.

I have a surprising level of respect for Saddam Hussein.


He's a bad man. A really bad man. He's obviously guilty of horrendous crimes against Iraqis. And he's got the chutzpah to sass and verbally abuse his judge, lie like crazy, claim innocence, insult the court, and assert his authority over the "theater" that is his courtroom. All of those are bad, right? But the way he's doing it has a style to it. I mean, I'm not forgetting that he's right up there among the worst people on Earth and it will be a boon to humanity when (if?) he's rubbed out. But like his fine suit, he's got class.

And I don't like that. I want him to be a sniveling dog with his tail tucked between his legs. Not a gunslinger, standing tall as he goes down in flames. But you can't fight city hall. He is what he is.

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