shockingly obese woman who claims to have been Saddam Hussein's mistress escaped from Iraq late last year, meeting surprisingly little resistance in a flight from bondage that International aid workers are calling "A Big Fat Miracle."

Lamoula Pamsolos says she was Saddam's mistress off and on for 30 years, and twice on Sundays. After escaping Iraq in a daring daylight bike ride over a year ago, she has learned to live in fear of anonymous death should Saddam's hit men ever find her. Assuming he has noticed that she's gone and didn't actually buy her the bike himself. Out of fear for her own life, she has disguised herself under a veil of disgusting, corpulent backfat.

According to Lamoula, she was a key component to Saddam's "collection" of women, which also included a ballerina, a basketball star and a black belt in judo. When asked if her part was the big fat cow or the whiny emotional cripple, she only responded with a cold stare. Saddam also collected women with missing appendages, women with extra appendages, and women who could do that dancing trick with a pair of forks and a couple of baked potatoes.

Pausing to either belch or swear in Iraqi (translators are divided), Lamoula explains that she was Saddam's favorite mistress, a claim supported by the faded tee shirt she wears, showing a naked woman handcuffed to a bed under a logo that reads "SADDAM'S FAVORITE MISTRESS".

Growing up, Lamoula originally thought of bondage as "fun" and thought herself lucky to only have to work twenty seconds out of the day. However, as she grew older and became gradually less enamored with Saddam's growing thatch of offensive back hair, Lamoula came to realize that she would never be able to leave him. Even if she wanted to, the door to her room locked from the outside. And though her window did open, it was a perilous one-story drop to the tall stacks of blankets that were stored on the ground below. Thanks to her acutely weak ankles and fear of modest heights, Lamoula's prison was complete.

Pamsolos later discovered that her door didn't lock at all, but rather stuck a little bit unless you jimmied the handle. And so, after 32 years of servitude, she stepped out into a hallway she had never seen and looked upon the world with the eyes of a free woman who didn't know how to do anything.

When asked to describe Hussein, Lamoula paints the picture of a big brown blob with seven legs. When asked to describe Hussein using only words, Pamsolos tells of a demanding tyrant with a weak spot for children's songs.

"Everybody do what Saddam say. He no have to ask nobody no two times. Saddam say 'Pull my finger.' I no want to pull finger. But, I afraid of Saddam. I pull finger. Yes, Saddam mean. But Saddam love Raffi. Saddam sing Raffi all times. All times, never stop never. People want to say Saddam to stop singing Raffi, but they no say so to Saddam. So Saddam still sing Raffi all times."

Lamoula describes Saddam as an up-tempo dictator who was always quick for a smile, except for a period in early 1991 when he seemed "bummered" about something, possibly something he saw on the news. Pamsolos isn't sure, it was a long time ago.

Western Intelligence sources back Pamsolos' claims, but have not yet been able to extract any tactically useful information from her memories of the 32 years she spent in close quarters with the Iraqi dictator.

"So far we know he's left-handed, probably, he's big into Elton John and he likes to have sex with the lights on, which personally is more info than I needed," CIA spokesperson George Hudson explains. "At this point it's premature to call the discovery of Ms. Pamsolos a strategic goldmine, but we're still digging. Just the other day she remembered that his favorite show is Malcolm in the Middle, so information on hidden nuclear weapons may be right around the corner."

resident Bush addressed the U.N. Thursday in an effort to convince the international body to take action against Saddam Hussein, who, according to the president, has the capability for nuclear weapons in his arsenal and commits horrific acts on his own people, like eating babies for supper.

"Iraq has the materials at present time, or will shortly come into possession of them, to produce nuclear weapons," the president told the United Nations audience. "If that threat is not enough, you should hear what he does to his own people. He eats babies, people. I am not kidding. Whole babies, for supper. He butters them like a baked potato and eats them in big bites—I have heard the babies are alive when he does it. I am not kidding."

Members of the audience became uncomfortable, and looked to each other for a proper response to the president. Several asked their translators to elaborate on the interpretation, believing them mistaken.

"I have heard from proper sources in the White House that Saddam Hussein has personally ordered his military to gather all needed materials to give Iraq nuclear capabilities, to be used in potential retaliation against the U.S. It is also common knowledge among people who have been to Iraq that the men make their wives have sex with their sons while they are watching. All of this is direct influence of Saddam Hussein's rule of Iraq."

The president further explained that nuclear material has been bought or requested for purchase from other nuclear powers like Russia and Pakistan, and that when the mothers and sons make love for the enjoyment of the father, they sometimes act out depraved fantasies about school teachers and troubled students.

"America cannot, and will not allow a man to retain power who would use nuclear weapons in harsh personal vendettas that would endanger our people and his own. A man who punishes his children by pooping on their plates and making them eat it when they have defied him. And in some of these cases, the offense in question was only trying to get a loaf of bread from the cabinet to eat because they are not allowed to eat on days he tells them not to. That's the truth."

The U.N., shortly following the speech, was reluctant to immediately respond. They said the president's remarks would be considered, but they had no plans to further pressure Iraq in the matter of refusing weapons inspectors access to their facilities.

United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan responded to the president, "We are aghast at the allegations by President W. Bush and intend to investigate these matters ourselves. Of particular interest to the member countries of the United Nations are the accusations that President Hussein passes out puppies to audiences before his speeches and tells them he will only continue if they rip the puppies apart. Actions of this nature cannot be allowed to go on."

On the home front, Sen. Majority Leader Tom Daschle stated Congress was reluctant to commit to action against Iraq until further information was available.

"If Iraq has the bomb, we must and will act," Daschle told reporters. "If it's true that you can just drive over children on the streets of Iraq with your car and the police will do nothing to stop it, likewise, in that case we will also be forced to act. A country that barbaric must be re-educated, and a man so despicable that he would set his ex-wives on fire on his birthday, such as Mr. Hussein, must be removed from power."

I can't wait to be a video game.

Didn't you hear already? I know most of you, I heard "web-literate" is the nice way to say it, are all about video games. So I figure most of you know. In case you didn't, I'm on my way to being a video game!

It's not for my outstanding columning, or for my world-famous role in Who's Your Daddy? Not even for my movies. I'm being rewarded long-lasting video game fame thanks to my part in the Metallichick comic book.

At long last, some lasting legacy for Clarissa Coleman! I don't have to worry about being locked into the '80s because of my stupid TV roles or movie appearances. I'll be timeless, like Ms. Pac-Man. Of course, it's just called Metallichick, but by the time I get done telling everybody it won't be a mystery who provides that unmistakable image for Metallichick, as well as the voice.

It took some convincing, I had to pull some strings with Nat Herschel, the creator of Metallichick, but I convinced him it was good for all involved if I did the voice for Metallichick, too. I told him I knew the character inside and out, I had devoted a lot of work to developing her personality—how she arched her back, why she stuck her ass out so far when holding her sword, all kinds of stuff. I even told him I came up with a backstory of how she keeps her costume in place, like they evolved past duct tape in the future she lives in. Of course, I didn't, but you got to be smooth with these creative types to get future work.

I got to go out to this studio in New Jersey and record the video game character's voice, and it takes a whole shitload of time. I've done DVD commentaries before and even did some voice work, once in a while. None of it compares to all the video game voice work. Apparently these characters talk a whole fucking lot. They open a box and just say what they found, all sorts of dumb stuff. No one does that in the real world. Well, my dad does, but no one else. Every video game shouldn't be about my dad.

I try to inject some realism here and there, but these video game directors are harder than real ones. Here's a pop quiz: You get shot with a laser blast or chopped with a sword, which are you more likely to say? "Aaarrgh!" (extra stress on the 'g'), or "Fuck, dude!" If you said the second one, give up on a career doing video game voices. They would not have it. And apparently it's more fashionable when you're slaying baddies to shout, "Let my sword guide you to hell!" instead of, "Boo-yah, bitch! Hope you got Medicare!"

Which is why I tried to tell them about my idea for a video game. This whole "sword and sci-fi" crap is okay, but you're just giving folks what they already have tons of. Comic book video games have seen their day. Celebrity video games are the way of the future. I know if I wanted to have real fun I would rather live a day in my life than some sorceress with a broadsword.

We could do all kinds of crazy shit. I wake up, can't find the cereal, it's like a little adventure until I remember I poured it over my mashed potatoes the night before and it's in the living room. My agent phones and I have to hear about his glory days when he used to manage Liza Minnelli, and I try to get him off the phone before my boredom level kills me. Ramrod Hurley calls and tells me the commune needs its column by 5 and I have to whip out some bullshit in ten minutes or risk losing that fat paycheck and primo exposure.

Too real, that's what the video game dorks told me. The world isn't ready for reality yet. I suppose I'd have to agree. Some days I can't even handle it.

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