Updated Intel

All right, I can confess to being wrong as well as the next guy. Even faster if you hurt me. Mistress Amber (if that's her real name) is not Sajida Heiralla Tuffah after all. Mrs. Tuffah was, in fact, Saddam Hussein's wife. My bad. I need to monitor my valium dosage better.

After a series of lengthy discussions with Mistress Amber, I believe that her command of the Arabic language is simply not sufficient for her to have survived a marriage of any length to a lunatic that couldn't speak English. I don't believe that she'd appreciate his love offerings of the severed heads, hands, or private parts of dissidents in the spirit in which they were intended. Plus, she'd be like, all TOTALLY in his face all the time. Not that I'm a relationship expert (notwithstanding two successful marriages so far), but she just doesn't seem like she'd be a good personality match for the ruthless dictator type.

Which leaves open the question of who, in fact, she is. Today's session gave me some valuable insight into her training. I now believe she was an intelligence officer stationed at Guantanamo Bay trained by the U.S. CIA in "enhanced interrogation techniques." I'll review the evidence I collected today which supports my position.

One technique commonly used on enemy combatants and other "undesirables" is what are called "stress positions." The prisoner is required to stand or kneel in a very uncomfortable position for lengthy periods of time, until muscles cramp and the pain overcomes the prisoner. Today, I was forced to lay face-down on the floor, supporting my full body weight on just my toes and elbows, back perfectly straight, for as long as 40 seconds! This was done to me at least three times and resulted in moderate back pain and an embarrassing lack of dignity as my ordeal was being witnessed by several attractive ladies.

Another example of a technique used by military interrogators is the sexual humiliation of prisoners, as witnessed in the Abu Ghraib prison photos. To my dismay, I was not invited to participate in building any naked pyramids with the other gym patrons. Instead, I was forced to humiliate myself in front of them, to the great delight of Mistress Amber. This ordeal involved making me rest my neck on a large (3' diam) inflatable ball, feet flat on the ground, body facing up. I was then forced to repeatedly thrust my hips and naughty bits up toward the ceiling, which I presume concealed a video camera. This process was repeated at least two times (the first video must not have adequately recorded the shame and humiliation in my face).

Finally, I am pretty sure I caught Mistress Amber checking me out for the best places to attach electrodes. I only caught the briefest glimpse inside the equipment closet behind the desk, so I'll have to confirm the presence of an arc welder or other torture device during my next interrogation. Also, black hoods.

I'm still trying to determine the true identity of Mistress Amber, but it is extremely difficult to learn the real names of operatives engaged in "wet work," as the professionals call these kinds of activities in the movies. I'll keep you posted on my research in the hopes that some of my clandestine colleagues can confirm my fact-findings.

Pray for me, friends, as I feel my resolve slipping almost daily.

By the way, I think I hoovered three lbs of cherries today. By the end of the week I know I can polish off a full 4 lb container! If anyone knows any reason I shouldn't be doing this, I'd be more than happy for you to share that information with me. No, really.