Mum's The Word
Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection teams who have arrived
in Iraq? They're all men!
How in the name of the United Nations does anyone expect men to find Saddam's
stash? We all know that men have a blind spot when it comes to finding things.
For crying' out loud! Men can't find the dirty clothes hamper. Men can't find
the jar of jelly until it falls out of the cupboard and splatters on the
floor.... and these are the people we have sent into Iraq to search for hidden
weapons of mass destruction?
I keep wondering why groups of mothers weren't sent in.
Mothers can sniff out secrets quicker than a drug dog can find a gram of dope.
Mothers can find gin bottles that dads have stashed in the attic beneath the
rafters. They can sniff out a diary two rooms and one floor away. They can
tell when the lid of a cookie jar has been disturbed and notice when a quarter
inch slice has been shaved off a chocolate cake. A mother can smell alcohol on
your breath before you get your key in the front door and can smell cigarette
smoke from a block away. By examining laundry, a mother knows more about their
kids than Sherlock Holmes. And if a mother wants an answer to question, she
can read an offender's eyes quicker than a homicide detective.
So... considering the value a mother could bring to an inspection team, why
are we sending a bunch of men who will rely on electronic equipment to scout
out hidden threats?
My mother would walk in with a wooden soup spoon in one hand, grab Saddam by
the ear, give it a good twist and snap, "Young man, do you have any
weapons of mass destruction?" And if he tried to lie to her, she'd march
him down the street to some secret bunker and shove his nose into a nuclear
bomb and say, "Uh, huh, and what do you call this, mister?" Whap!
Thump! Whap! Whap! Whap! And she'd lay some stripes across his bottom with
that soup spoon, then march him home in front of the whole of Baghdad. He'd
not only come clean and apologize for lying about it, he'd cut every lawn in
Baghdad for free for the whole damn summer.
Inspectors! You want the job done? Call my mother.