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Born a Capricorn in the shadow of Baghdad’s famous 13th-century al-Mustansiriya Madrasah mosque, the second son of a VCR repairman father and homemaker mom, Azziz showed no particular aptitude for public relations at Suq al-Ghazi High School, but was captain of the volleyball team and won rapturous reviews for his portrayal of Curly in the senior class’s production of Oklahoma! He majored in oceanography as an undergraduate at the University of Baghdad, but dropped out in his senior year to serve as a roadie for the pop group As Sulaymaniyah, sort of the Chicago of the Arab world. It was in this capacity, procuring toot and tootsies for the boys in the band, that he first met Saddam Hussein, at the time a struggling concert promoter (and, according to some, major coke connection) in the college town of Ba’qubah.

Once having returned to school and received his BA in public speaking from Az Zubayr Substitute Teachers College, Azziz eventually found work as a low-level apologist for the Baath party, and worked in obscurity until Saddam tapped him to explain his 1988 poison gas attacks on the Kurds. Such was his success in besmirching the Kurds’ image as guileless innocents that Saddam named him Minister of Truth. His autobiography, “Terry,” The VCR Repairman’s Son, was published in Iraq in mid-1991, and remains stalled at No. 2 on the bestsellers list, right behind the Koran.

He buys most of his clothing right off the rack while in New York, favoring Bill Blass suits and Tommy Hilfiger casual wear. He disdains Dockers because of Levi’s’ avid support for Israel, and instead wears baggy-crotched hiphop-style jeans around the house and to work on Casual Friday. A little obsessive about his hands, he gets a manicure every 48 hours and is said to have wept like a baby at the end of Titanic, although he’s gone on record as believing Winslet and di Caprio to have been poorly matched. He is said to own the entire Gloria Estefan catalog of recordings, and to have been inconsolable following the death of Tammy Wynette, though there is no record of their having dated.

When he isn’t vilifying the West’s curiosity about Saddam’s keen interest in biology, for instance, Azziz may commonly be found puttering in the garden of his and second wife Julie’s comfortable three-bedroom condo overlooking the Tigris. He takes particular pride in his rooftop herb garden, but doesn’t eat his own garlic because, as he admitted with a chuckle to a BBC film crew last fall, “A guy in my position doesn’t want to offend more than is absolutely necessary.” When his schedule permits, he assists in the coaching of the Baghdad Little League team for which Julie’s two boys from a previous marriage play, hitting “fungoes” to the outfielders and occasionally even pitching batting practice. The family has two Persian (what else!) cats, Euphrates and Nebuchadnezzar, and enjoys frequent weekend outings to the recently restored Hanging Gardens of Babylon, where Azziz revels especially in the log ride.

He is an ardent fan of the Az Zubayr Sanctions Victims football club, and multiple photographs of the team pretending to enjoy his company may be spotted among the more traditional shots of him with various Arab and other dignitaries on the walls of his downtown Baghdad office, whose furnishings suggest strength and masculinity without being overbearing about it. Just as President Ronald Reagan had a jar of jelly beanson hand at all times in the Oval Office, Azziz is said to have a large jar of locally grown dates to offer visitors. “Terry,” Michelle Pfeiffer tells us, “is nothing if not a gracious host.”




			Born a Capricorn in the shadow of Baghdad’s famous 13th-century al-Mustansiriya Madrasah mosque, the second son of a VCR repairman father and homemaker mom, Azziz showed no particular aptitude for public relations at Suq al-Ghazi High School, but was captain of the volleyball team and won rapturous reviews for his portrayal of Curly in the senior class’s production of Oklahoma! He majored in oceanography as an undergraduate at the University of Baghdad, but dropped out in his senior year to serve as a roadie for the pop group As Sulaymaniyah, sort of the Chicago of the Arab world. It was in this capacity, procuring toot and tootsies for the boys in the band, that he first met Saddam Hussein, at the time a struggling concert promoter (and, according to some, major coke connection) in the college town of Ba’qubah. Once having returned to school and received his BA in public speaking from Az Zubayr Substitute Teachers College, Azziz eventually found work as a low-level apologist for the Baath party, and worked in obscurity until Saddam tapped him to explain his 1988 poison gas attacks on the Kurds. Such was his success in besmirching the Kurds’ image as guileless innocents that Saddam named him Minister of Truth. His autobiography, “Terry,” The VCR Repairman’s Son, was published in Iraq in mid-1991, and remains stalled at No. 2 on the bestsellers list, right behind the Koran. He buys most of his clothing right off the rack while in New York, favoring Bill Blass suits and Tommy Hilfiger casual wear. He disdains Dockers because of Levi’s’ avid support for Israel, and instead wears baggy-crotched hiphop-style jeans around the house and to work on Casual Friday. A little obsessive about his hands, he gets a manicure every 48 hours and is said to have wept like a baby at the end of Titanic, although he’s gone on record as believing Winslet and di Caprio to have been poorly matched. He is said to own the entire Gloria Estefan catalog of recordings, and to have been inconsolable following the death of Tammy Wynette, though there is no record of their having dated. When he isn’t vilifying the West’s curiosity about Saddam’s keen interest in biology, for instance, Azziz may commonly be found puttering in the garden of his and second wife Julie’s comfortable three-bedroom condo overlooking the Tigris. He takes particular pride in his rooftop herb garden, but doesn’t eat his own garlic because, as he admitted with a chuckle to a BBC film crew last fall, “A guy in my position doesn’t want to offend more than is absolutely necessary.” When his schedule permits, he assists in the coaching of the Baghdad Little League team for which Julie’s two boys from a previous marriage play, hitting “fungoes” to the outfielders and occasionally even pitching batting practice. The family has two Persian (what else!) cats, Euphrates and Nebuchadnezzar, and enjoys frequent weekend outings to the recently restored Hanging Gardens of Babylon, where Azziz revels especially in the log ride. He is an ardent fan of the Az Zubayr Sanctions Victims football club, and multiple photographs of the team pretending to enjoy his company may be spotted among the more traditional shots of him with various Arab and other dignitaries on the walls of his downtown Baghdad office, whose furnishings suggest strength and masculinity without being overbearing about it. Just as President Ronald Reagan had a jar of jelly beanson hand at all times in the Oval Office, Azziz is said to have a large jar of locally grown dates to offer visitors. “Terry,” Michelle Pfeiffer tells us, “is nothing if not a gracious host.”