** UPDATE --> with video! ***



Today's post embellishes upon the following bit of audio commentary over at my omnibus site...

You know, I can almost remember as if it were yesterday...those university fireside chats around the smoky Trotskyist tables, the clandestine meetings of our college anarchist cell. Secreted away, as we were, in those hushed corners of the neo-Classic cafes of Montreal's French Quarter, we introduced the then-novel notion that there were three men on the globe whom the world could not -- nor would not -- take down:

1) Saddam.
2) Slobodan Milosevic.
3) Radovan Karadzic.

With respect to the first two, we all know what befell them.

Saddam was hanged by a trial of his peers, escaping the worst of the accusations levelled against him, his cronies, and his two sadistic sons -- Uday and Qusay.

Rather than face the music for the mass gassing and bombing of the Kurds in the north of his country, he was brought up on charges for another trifling crime -- a pittance compared to the mass murder committed against his fellow Iraqi citizens in Kurdistan. His neck was unceremoniously snapped at the end of the hangman's noose in Baghdad.

Slobo, meanwhile, apparently committed hari-kiri under tight guard in The Hague, or so we've been lead to believe. He, too, succeeded in evading the worst of his gross misdeeds, suicidally excusing himself from the orgy of hatred which would likely have been his destiny had he lived to face the music.

And now, we move onto Karadzic.

So far, there have been no haggard, Saddam-like photos released of the man who has been at large for more than a decade. A crafty adversary who has eluded the long arm of US international justice, not to mention NATO forces on the ground in Bosnia, replete with the sundry corruption allegations which have been hurled at said policing authorities, the rap being why NATO hasn't bagged him and brought him in sooner.

Here's a purported photo of one of his more famous getups, sporting long white hair and bearded, all professorial and all:



Yesterday, when the "Serbian Security Forces" -- ever wonder what they comprise? -- nabbed him clean (with Ratko Mladic likely soon to follow, once they apply the pressure on the silver-maned head shrinker and part-time "poet extraordinaire"), the imaginings of a one-time anarchist agent-provocateur from Toronto have come to an untimely end. I have not only hung my spurs and given up my Canadian passport, but I have also cast my lot in with the destiny of the citizens of Bohemia. But that, my friends, is for later blogging.

Now that Karadzic has been taken into Dutch custody at the ICTY (International Criminal Tribunal For The Former Yugoslavia in The Hague), I've once again become a staunch believer in g.od, something Trotsky himself never likely had the joy of experiencing from the confines of his latter-day Mexican redoubt.

And if Karadzic is, indeed, traceable, folks, then Osama isn't too far down the pipeline.

It's all a matter of will and dosh, and who's got the meaner spherical sac of testicular venom (aka "the balls") to go out there and nab the elusive Saudi terror-financing tycoon.

Yesterday's reports off the Serbian wire transported me back about 15 years. Yet somehow one thing remains inconclusive: has the nightmare just ended, or has it just begun?