Palestine’s strong man is a weak man. Yassir Arafat, bloodthirsty murderer of countless thousands, merciless tyrant of the Philistines, and all-around schmuck, has started to feel the icy fingers of death’s embrace.

Smiling and joking nervously in his powder-blue jammies, the leukemia-stricken minion of Satan, 75, said he hopes he can hold out until Jan. 20.

“I am told that when John Kerry is president, people like me will get up out of our wheelchairs and walk again,” said Arafat on Wednesday, as cackling demons stoked the fires of his personal furnace in the lowest depths of Hell. “So I’ve got that to look forward to. Meantime, I’m going to Paris.”