he Bush administration celebrated a victory amidst plentiful criticism this week when reports came Friday that Saddam Hussein had been arrested, in Brooklyn, New York of all places.

The news puts a sunny smile on the end of a week of bitter partisan accusations from Democrats and presidential critics against the Republican party, and the president in particular. Bush has had to play hardass on the Liberia situation, alluding to the possibility of military intervention in that country; other sour news surfaced in the release of a report stating the jobless rate had risen its highest in nine years, refuting some conservatives who are claiming the economy is in full recovery from the recession of the past two years. Even more alarming, recent attacks on U.S. soldiers brought the total body count higher than 200, causing some to allege the U.S. still does not have control of the Iraq situation. The president earned harder critique after a statement detractors decried as "an urge to attack our forces."

In a Wednesday address to the White House press, Bush's controversial statements were: "There are some who feel like conditions are such that they can attack us there. My answer is: Bring them on. We have the force necessary to deal with the situation." The president then turned up the collar of the leather jacket he wore to the press conference and put on some Terminator sunglasses.

A rescue did come for Bush and company, though, in the form of the Hussein capture on the Fourth of July. Details were being suppressed by the FBI and the White House until more could be verified, but it is believed a call late Thursday night tipped off authorities to the location of Saddam Hussein, in the heart of Brooklyn, New York, no less.

Speculators who forced their way into the commune office suggest the Hussein arrest was the direct result of the president's Thursday announcement a $25 million reward would be offered for information leading to the capture of Saddam Hussein, and $15 million each for his less popular sons. Some estimates say it was a mere 16 hours before Bush's reward announcement brought in the information that led to the seizure of the deposed Iraqi dictator.

The president earned some back-sass from Democrats for raiding the congressional Secret Santa fund to supply the reward money, as well as subverting money from social programs for Uday and Qusay rewards. While he was mucking about in the national budget, he also dismantled Medicare and Medicaid.

Some FBI insiders are warning early announcements Hussein is in custody may be false. What can be verified by the agency is that just before midnight a phone call offered information on a the location of a Brooklyn hideout where the Iraqi dictator could be picked up; the caller was male, possibly extremely inebriated, and an episode of Perfect Strangers was clearly heard in the background. It was believed to be the one where Balki is hypnotized into believing he's Elvis.

Unofficial witnesses confirm the arrest of a man in the Brooklyn area by a swarm of government agents wearing those cool jackets with "FBI" on the back. The man taken into custody was reportedly shouting loudly that his name was Rudy and he ain't never heard of no Iraq. Witnesses could not say for sure whether the man the FBI detained was Saddam Hussein, though they implied a crisp $100 bill might refresh their memory.

Some are suspicious why the president did not take the opportune time of the Fourth of July to announce Hussein was in custody, but insiders who know Bush said on a three-day weekend the president doesn't even show up at the White House. Experts, or those who claimed to be experts, assured everyone the matter would be made clear on Monday morning, when Bush returned from his Tijuana road trip.

ollowing last week's landmark sodomy decision that opened the door for Americans everywhere not to be white Christian fundamentalists, onlookers have waited with baited breath for the other shoe to drop as the Supreme Court passes judgment on the controversial topic of gay marriage. That shoe came sooner than expected yesterday, when the high court handed down a ruling that many anticipated but few wanted to admit: "Yes, marriage is really gay."

"Marriage is like, something chicks invented to make sure guys don't have any fun," explained Justice Anthony Kennedy in his majority opinion.

"So you're saying I've got to support you financially, pay for a bunch of foofy-ass furniture I don't want, raise some snot-monster kids who live to piss me off, and I don't get to have sex with anybody else no matter how fat you get? Oh yeah, that sounds like a great deal. Sign me up and point me toward the polo shirts," sneered Justice David Souter while miming the jerk-off motion with his hand.

"I was going to get married once, but then I decided to just slam my balls in a car door and call it even. Best call I ever made," boasted Justice Breyer, sitting down gingerly.

Justice John Paul Stevens nodded in agreement. "Friend of mine got married once. They said it was Vietnam that screwed him up, but I for one know better. His wife was into collecting those little beanbag animals," Stevens shook his head solemnly.

The lone dissenting opinion was voiced by Justice Antonin Scalia, who spoke meekly from the bench.

"Hey, I like being married. It's fun to talk to my wife about what kind of sink we're going to put in the downstairs bathroom, again and again, for hours until you don't care if you live or die. And to hang out with my wife's asinine friends from college, that's a blast," asserted Justice Scalia, starting to cry. "Anyway, when I was younger I found single life to be overrated, I really did. Always getting to do whatever I wanted, staying out all night, having my own ideas…" Scalia trailed off as he got a far-away look in his eyes.

"Plus I think there's something in the bible about getting boils on your ass if you're not married by the time you're 30. Ugly stuff. It's in there somewhere, I swear. Enjoy life at your own peril, single sinners."

Uptight religious groups everywhere spoke out against the decision before it was even handed down, not wanting to miss an opportunity to start some shit.

"We will not stand for this attack on the sanctity of marriage," threatened Rev. Lee Harden-Stroker, president of the one-man To Heck with Gays Coalition of some godawful place called Hucknuckle, Texas. "Next thing you know them liberal judges gonna rule that church is boring or that closed-minded fundamentalist dogma drives a wedge between people while failing to address the spiritual needs of its followers in any meaningful fashion. And them's fightin' words."

"Sure, being married isn't much fun, but nobody said life was supposed to be fun," explained Tyner Allaboy of the Concerned Christian Men's Club. "Show me where the word 'fun' appears in the bible. Ain't there. It's God's plan for men and women to grow emotionally distant from each other, raise ungrateful children and spend our weekends fixing the damned rain gutters again and again."

"Just think about it," concluded Allaboy in a flourish of inspiration. "If God really wanted us to be happy, would he have put our mouths so far away from our privates? Try and argue with that."

To all those who have ever made fun of me, I have one thing to say: Eat a rotten cow out. For everyone who said or insinuated or made some kind of rude hand gesture suggesting my sister was more talented or smarter or cooler than I was in any case, I have one thing left to say: My sister is a gigantic sci-fi nerd.

That's right, my sister, Cassandra Coleman, the big-time successful lawyer and Harvard grad, the big-time book author, she's just a big old Trekkie underneath it all. Nobody was shocked more than me, I'll tell you that. The last thing you expect when you show up to a major metropolitan sci-fi convention is to find your sister at the head of the Terry Pratchett book-signing line dressed as Xena, Warrior Princess. In fact I'll make the bold declaration that any time you find your sister dressed as Xena, Warrior Princess, outside of a traditional costume party, is bad news.

She noticed me right away, and the mortification set in her face right away. She knew her cover was blown. Anyone who doesn't know, my sister sees herself as the downright respectable member of the Coleman family, although the rest of us like to put her in her place with a random insult or well-placed firecracker once in a while. But once word got back to our family, she knew all the jokes that had come before would pale in comparison.

Finally! That's all I have to say. Every time I show up to her office or palatial apartment she rolls her eyes like a bigshot or whatever and asks real condescending-like, "I suppose you need to borrow some money?" She's such a pretentious dildo all the time, thinking she's better than everybody and just chomping at the bit to put people in her place, and I would tell her so whenever I go there, but then she wouldn't lend me the money. One of these days I'm going to show up and pay her back, then really let her have it. And now I got all the material I need. It's my turn to roll my eyes and "tsk tsk" her, back to the stone age.

Since I was getting paid to show up to the convention, wearing my Queen Tongue outfit and signing autographs and such, I couldn't wait to blast her for it. That book-signing line was too long and ornery to wait around, but I knew I'd see her again since most of the convention spazzes show up for the filk prom. I was supposed to be on hand as a celebrity square dance conductor, so I would corner her there and give her the business.

To cut this story down to column length, let's just say the rest of the convention went splendidly and I was treated with supreme dignity and respect by all the pasty nimrods in attendance. A few of the guys asked me to dance, and some of them weren't all that bad looking, by sci-fi convention standards, and I would have danced with them, too, if I hadn't been wearing my Metallichick costume to the prom, since those bullet bra points can pierce the skin pretty easily with little force. I was the belle of the ball, like… well, like one of the handful of girls at a sci-fi convention. But my sister was off in the corner, sulking like the ugly duckling and staring at me guiltily.

When I caught up with her she was all but begging. "Please don't tell the folks, Clarissa," she asked me. "You know they get on me for every stupid little thing. You mention one thing about my Voyager fan fiction and the Spock jokes won't stop over the Thanksgiving dinner table."

Well, she was right about that. Give her credit for knowing the mom and pop, she's at least smart about one thing. And school subjects, so that's two things. So I told her I would keep her secret safe from the family, as long as I was allowed to tell anyone else I wanted to. She agreed, and then proceeded to tell me about the fantastic lesbian undertones of Xena and Gabrielle, and I pretended to care, a real sisterly moment.

It was a half decent time, for a sci-fi convention. And as soon as I figured out a way to tell everybody what a nerd she was, except my parents, I had some fun myself. I know they won't ever find out if I just put it in my column, reading something I wrote would be too much like showing support.

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