Monday, May 29, 2006


Are we going to have one of these moments (above) when the gummint once again calls an end to major combat activities in Iraq?

I don't think so.

I just watched that HBO special they've been touting, "Baghdad ER," and was filled with an existential chill. There are guys -- thick necked yahoos from Alabama with tattoos that read "Mom" -- getting turned into fucking hamburger meat over in the Red Zone every fucking day, and for what? We're supposed to hold on to "freedom" and give this "child of democracy struggling to be born" a chance, in the words of British P.M. Tony Blair at Georgetown last week. "They and we, the international community, are the midwives." He went on to say:

"You may not agree with the original decision. You may believe mistakes have been made. You may even think: How can it be worth the sacrifice? But surely we must all accept this is a genuine attempt to run the race of liberty. These weren't stooges or placemen. They believe in their country. They believe in its capacity to be democratic. They are fighting against the odds, it is true, but they are fighting it."

I don't know anymore, Tony. I used to have a tremendous amount of respect for you, guy, because you were a convincing rhetorician. I don't see how arms, legs, torsos, and heads blown off make anyone's life better if we just continue to find piles of evidence pointing to senseless murder by every-fucking-one aboard that Arabian land mass? That guy with the thick neck might as well be my fucking brother. I can't stand the thought of his parents being delivered a flag by some Marine corps burial liaison.

I've lost my nerve, Mr. President and Mr. Prime Minister. I no longer see how scores of dead Iraqis (more than Saddam could have ever hoped to kill himself in a comparable span of time) equals... anything, other than discord. There's no calculus that makes this worth it -- sorry Robert McNamara.

As if this sailor getting a smooch made The Big One worth it, either...