From Reuters:
“Condoleezza Rice defended Bush’s decision to go to war and said the United States may never learn the whole truth about Iraq’s weapons capabilities because of looting after the conflict.”

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[Scene: A moonlit desert night on the outskirts of Karbala, March 24, 2003. Two bedraggled soldiers, Hashim and Ahmad, late of Saddam’s Republican Guard, sift through the rubble of houses, barracks, and storage facilities.]

AHMAD: Even Papa Saddam himself wouldn’t blame us.

HASHIM: Uh huh.

AHMAD: I mean, it wasn’t as if there was even much of a “post” left to defend, anyway. Not after that bombing run. The Americans will be here any day now - we have to get back to our families. Even Papa Saddam would see that.

HASHIM: Right.

[They rummage through a burnt-out structure in silence for a moment.]

AHMAD: “Warthog.”

HASHIM: What?

AHMAD: That’s what they call those big ones that fly in really low with the bombs and the rockets and whatnot. “Warthogs.” Imagine.

HASHIM: Uh huh.

AHMAD: Personally, I think they look more like mosquitos or something, but then, most aircraft look like insects. Or birds, of course. But you can’t name every single airplane after a bir- what?

HASHIM: Look here!

AHMAD: Where - oh! Stuff.

[They scoot down some rubble into a large, exposed basement that is filled with crates and bags.]

AHMAD: Look at this, Hashim! Food, batteries, bottled water, everything we’ll need to get our families through the war! I’ll get the truck…

HASHIM: We’re not taking the food or batteries.

AHMAD: What? Hashim, what else would we possibly want?

HASHIM: That.

AHMAD: That? Hashim, call me crazy, but that appears to be roughly 38,000 liters of botulinum toxin.

HASHIM: Exactly, Ahmad. Weapons-grade. And right next to it?

AHMAD: Aw, just about 25,000 liters of anthrax. So what?

HASHIM: So what? We can grab these and hide ‘em! Maybe take ‘em to Syria while nobody’s looking! They will become the instrument by which we will bring down the Americans!

AHMAD: Geez, I really wish we’d thought of using these before they took out my village. Damn Warthogs. Hey, maybe it’s War-thogs, you know, as in “thogs of war.”

HASHIM: What’s a “thog?”

AHMAD: Dunno.

HASHIM: Look, help me with these 500 tons of sarin, mustard and VX nerve agent.

AHMAD: Hashim, are you seriously suggesting that a couple of random mid-level officers like you and I are simply going to pick up gigantic stockpiles of highly volatile chemical and biological agents that we have little or no training in the use of, transport them through a dangerous war zone wherein almost all travel is closely monitored and American patrols sweep by daily, and somehow get them all the way to some unknown Syrian destination or hide them so cleverly all by ourselves (at a moment’s notice, no less) that the Americans won’t be able to find them, and do all this instead of merely fleeing back to our families with what provisions we can loot and ensuring our own survival?

HASHIM: Yes, Ahmad, that is what I’m suggesting.

[Pause]

AHMAD [shrugging]: Huh. Seems logical. Hey, dibs on the botulinum toxin!

HASHIM: I saw it first!

AHMAD: I’ll race ya!

[Laughing and playfully wrestling, they run off into the stockpiles.]