So last night, before we went to bed, all of us had our regular television viewing habits viciously interrupted with the news that Saddam Hussein is dead. Dead, dead, dead. Executed. Hanged.

And a few minutes later, we heard it again. He’s still dead. And then once more, before we collectively turned off our tv’s, wishing that there was something on besides the “All Dead, All the Time” network, we heard the news one more time: Saddam Hussein is dead.

I mean, we all heard it except some guy in Crawford, Texas, that guy currently serving as the leader of the free world. Yeah, it seems that Dubya had more important things to do, like getting himself some shut-eye. Perhaps he was resting because he anticipated an early wake-up call, maybe for a photo-op where he'd stand atop a rotted, fallen tree, some sweat and dirt splashed upon his face, his gloved hand holding an ax, photgraphers from everywhere converging on the hallowed grounds of his truck ranch. Nevertheless, the man who invaded Iraq was asleep when Saddam Hussein was executed.

And when I woke up this morning, I was apparently supposed to be shocked when it blared from every single media source that, yes, indeed, Saddam Hussein is dead.

Still.

Imagine that.

I knew I didn’t want to continue watching the coverage, but I did linger in front of the tv long enough to hear CNN’s senior Mideast political analyst, Dr. Wrinkle-Face Windbag, add his two cents to the story.

“Dr. Windbag is joining us from his home in Politically-Connected and Therefore Haughty, Maryland. Good morning, Dr. Windbag. Thank you for being here with us.”

“Good morning and thank you for having me. But I insist, do call me ‘Wrinkle-Face’.”

“So at this point, what do you know, Wrinkle-Face?”

“Well, it seems that Saddam Hussein is dead.”

“And what’s the reaction like?”

“Well, it seems that his supporters are in mourning,” and then, as proof, the shot on the screen cut away from Dr. Windbag to footage of five or six folks holding pictures of Saddam, tears welling in their eyes.

“Oh, wow. And what about people who didn’t support him, the people who didn’t really like Saddam Hussein?”

Dr. Windbag puffed up and leaned closer to the camera, “They’re happy today. Some are even celebrating,” and with that, they cut to footage of a lone, veiled woman, dancing on a sidewalk, skyscrapers visible behind her.

Just then, car horns were audible in the background. "Wrinkle-face, I hear some celebrations in the background there at your house. Are your neighbors veterans?"

"Oh, no. But they do have this somewhat deaf, obese cat who is known to slumber in a rather extravagant fashion in the middle of the road. We're sometimes forced to honk repeatedly to get him to move. The cat, I suspect, is resting more peacefully today, though, because of this news." 

“Interesting. But what about in Iraq, Wrinkle-face?”

“Oh, most experts do anticipate there to be some violence there today.”

And as the two thanked each other for adding utterly nothing to the scope of knowledge that even my half-empty bottle of Diet Coke has, I walked off. I thought of all the pre-empted footage of some guy’s poor family pet that had been outfitted in a seasonal costume then strapped to some water skis and dragged behind a boat down in Winter Haven somewhere, this footage being buried because of the news of the day: Saddam Hussein. He's dead, I think I heard somewhere.

No wait--you know what? I just saw it again:  he is, indeed, dead.

Still.

I decided that I’d work out and, as is my habit, I tuned the tv to CNN, muted it, then placed my headphones on my ears--I’d listen to music, occasionally looking up to take in the images on tv. Around the four hundred calorie mark, a bright red flashing light caught my eye on the tv—“Breaking News” it read in a font that indicated the utter emergency of what we were about to be told.

I slowed my pace and focused almost solely on what was predictably dire news but instead, it seems that we were simply being informed that Saddam Hussein is dead.

Still.

Wow.

We’re such confident, self-congratulatory, vigorous participants of “The Information Age,” aren’t we? But just to make sure, run--straight to your tv--double check: is he still dead?