Some roundups on Saddam’s capture, this morning: Michele, at the Command Post. Truth Laid Bear and Joe Katzman on general reactions from all over. Katzman on the left:

I wonder if the left side of the blogosphere will be able to muster any more happiness this time, as opposed to the gloom that greeted the fall of his regime? Because, you know, this will probably help George Bush. Or something.

Which has been one of the biggest things I have observed, and yes, please admit it, some of you… as much as some on the far right cream their pants everytime Bush says Nookyoolar, the initial reaction from some on the left at any news of success from Bush’s side is deep sorrow.

Michael Demmons has a short roundup of lefty reactions, most notably those of Oliver Willis and of Jesse, where he gets heat in the comments from such humorless luminaries as those I mentioned. I totally understand; good news like this can really be through the hoof at times.

Me on Saddam?

Living under the Marcos era, I was but a young kid and my brother was in his teens. There was fear in the air. Even mild criticism of the President could have gotten anyone a trip through the un-person process: missing first, never to reappear. I can only speculate on the multiplying factor that would equate that to what Iraq was under Saddam.

I won’t feign complete knowledge of the ins and outs of trying this monstrosity, but I want this to happen: I want him tried under our rules for crimes he has done against us. Then, I want him tried under the same laws and methods that he used against those he oppressed. Finally, I want him killed. Fast will never be fast enough. Incarceration will turn him into a martyr, as will a slow death. A single gunshot to the head will be perfect for me, I’m sure there are more than one person willing to have the honor.

Better yet, to channel Gabriel Garcia Marquez in his book One Hundred Years Of Solitude, we leave Saddam’s corpse in the middle of Baghdad where every Iraqi who wants at him can discharge a single bullet to anywhere on his body. By the end of the day we’ll be carting off blood-stained bullets in a wheelbarrow.

No mercy, nor leniency, nor understanding for the unredeemable. Let’s get what we need from him and get it over and done with.