Recently in War Category

Barack Obama has brought to the surface the simmering issue we've all faced since the day we were born in this country: we will never view people of a different skin color from our own as our human equivalent.  To be honest, my high school education in Lincoln, Nebraska paid semesters-worth amounts of time to covering thing like segregation, "separate but equal," and apartheid.  What good came of it?  I'm not talking about myself, personally.  What does education do to improve racial equality?  What does seeing many many videos of Southern blacks being sprayed with firehoses in the '60s do to bring one's level of understanding to a new place?

It never does anything.  The biggest single hurdle Obama is facing in his quest for the presidency is that people will judge him by the color of his skin, rather than the quality of his character.  Has there ever been a politician like Mr. Obama?  A black man will be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States.  Look through your history books.  Dissect the imagery.  Give it another look beyond that.  Did you ever expect this in your lifetime?  Whitey could let a black man be ruler of the land.  It's only a few steps from happening.  Will it happen?  How bullshit is it that I need to ask these questions?

As we've seen in West Virginia, and as we'll see in Kentucky, voters are rejecting Mr. Obama outright for the most baseless reasons imaginable.  They don't think he has a way forward for our country.  They think he's secretly a MOOSLEM.  They think all kinds of things which aren't true, and they usually sit in pancake houses and breathe awful, undignified insults to his character to national news reporters through rotten teeth and bits of chewed bacon.  Their color?  White.  These folks is as white as pure snow.

There's a guy out there preaching to the choir.  Educated folks is selecting Obama by a large margin.  Poor workin' folks is exposin' our inherent racism.  No matter what education level you reach, you're a racist.  Period.  You have suspicions about other groups of races getting together and saying things about your race.  Yes, you do.

What do we do?  Why can't Obama be President?  When you sit down in the voting booth (you are white), are YOU going to cast a vote for Mr. Obama over the white war hero John McCain?  These narratives are set up so perfectly.  A secret muslim black against a fuckin' WAR HERO white.  What else can I even say?

We've been worried that the media is controlling our actions for quite some time.  Now, there's a direct application of this principle.  You've got an eloquent, fresh, brilliant man running for president in the hopes of getting to Washington and taking a Real Man look at how business is being done.  On the other hand, you've got a rotten-to-the-core old bastard running for president who eschews Cialis in favor of imagined bombings of dark religious heathens.  Yet, we're divided.  We can't see the way forward.  We are baited into our worst possible instincts.  All of our education is naught in the face of Greta Van Susteren and Karl Rove sitting in a tiny studio playing clips of a black preacher taken out of context from a 7-year-old sermon and repeating line after line after line after line of sicko hitjob politics in order to crucify the black man on a modern media cross.  For the corporate good.  To make the shareholders get that extra-special chub as they hit the golf course this Friday morning in resplendent spring sunlight.  You can't even smell the dust wafting in from Iraq's freshest smoldering child-remains-crater.

Let's go on with our business.  We can't elect a black man to president.  It's just not possible; the media just can't allow itself to tell the truth about what really might be afoot in our world.  No.  No, we can't.  We sure, sure can't.

America is a country.  We're sick; deeply sick.  Injured.  We've suffered injurious amounts of sickness in a particular dimension of our being, amounting to the current confused state in which we all find ourselves.  Who are we anymore?

When there's some awful malady that you can't ignore, the only way out is pain or death.  Pain is suffered for the fix; the surgery.  Which part needs surgery?  The back?  Is our back figuratively broken?  No.  You will never break the back of America.  The backbone of America is embodied by some 67-year-old guy named Gus who gets up at 5:30 AM to head down to the city square and clean up your trash.  That's the American back, and it remains healthy as hell.

Legs?  A broken leg(s)?  No, those are just fine. That's our economy, sound as ever.  Cyclical, yes.  The left leg of the government moves in time with the right leg of the free market.  We would go in a fucking circle without one sweeping forward to carry the momentum of the other.  There are rough times, but these legs cannot be broken.

Maybe our country has suffered a broken arm.  Nope, doesn't seem that way to me.  We trade with other nations and we produce our own goods just as well as anyone else on Earth.  Maybe one arm takes more than the other produces, but that's not a broken arm.  That's just confusion.  Why so confused?  Hold on a sec.

I have to address the heart.  The heart of this country is not broken.  They're serving in Baghdad and Kabul and anywhere else they are sent.  They enable the flow of freedom through our circulatory system just like they always have, pumping and pumping in perfect athletic fitness.  Our defenses alone determine the ability of our arms to reach and build and destroy, all through the providence of freedom's deep crimson bloodflow.  Our blood burns hot as our heart suffers blow after blow, but it is not broken.  Not yet.

Where are we at?  What is broken?  Why, it's the brain, you see.  We've lost our conscience.  Without a journalistic media that oversees and exposes the governance put forth by the other parts of the brain, we are addled by whatever wishes and fantasies those who are in control of every other part so desire.  Corrupt and gripped with megalomania, psychotic murder-sick justifications of mass killing, and unimpeded desire to consume and alter everything within our sphere of being, we find our body out of control.

The conscience alone could correct this horrid affliction, but as such an abstract device in our body's function, it has been lost to the omnivorous greed of our brain's center: the ruling class.  With the passion in our heart and the freedom in our blood, we the people of these United States (the moral instinct) could compel ourselves to be rid of the sickness that gnaws the inner workings of our brain and drives our entire body ever further toward ruin.

Surgery could fix the conscience.  Excision of the old conscience and implanting a new one built on the moral instinct of our blood and moment could be the one fix that saves the brain, correcting the corruptive forces of the dominant ruling section.  Our overtaxed and overworked body could begin to relax again.  We could stop leaping over oceans and partitions, suffering constant bruises and infections, and we could just be again, walking along with the twin legs of economy, the arms taking and giving what is needed, and the back providing steady guidance and upright movement.

Destroy the mass media.  Fuck them all.  Let's get together and poison their efforts, check their every injustice, and lay bare their every trick.  A malfunctioning part of our figurative mind cannot poison our blood, it can only compel us toward slow suicide.  It must be our instinct to push back.

Just a mini-essay here, but this sprang from an intimate conversation with my brother.  For the full text, pretend you're with the NSA and phone up an inexperienced information services rep at AOL.  The gist, anyway, is that 9/11 has gotten to a fever-pitch of discussion in this country.  You're batshit insane if you think there were charges in the twin towers and the government had a hand in perpetrating the attack.

However, well, fuck; just read the piece:

What's wrong with the official account of 9/11? Key components of the way the day unfolded were covered up and whitewashed to conceal the utter, abject failure of our government to defend us and defend itself when attacked directly.  You find all kinds of inconsistencies, embarrassments, and things not adding up in the official account, because we were caught with our pants down, in terms of preparedness. Our guys did everything they could to hammer into a quick and dirty narrative the freakish ease with which the enraged Saudis brought our nation to its knees with a little out-of-the-box thinking.

To make public all of those key pieces would only be to expose that which is painfully true, lately, in times of crisis, when it's all gazed at under the unflinching microscope of the internet's power:  Our government is run by a bunch of well-groomed children, who don't know what to do in any crisis more than what they find in their guts, or in the writings of their ponderous predecessors.

If you think a bunch of careerist babies in positions of great power are going to, when faced with the decision to either lay bare their rank ineptitude, or to claim "privilege" and "national security" in order to keep secret their shameful, systemic uselessness, admit to the fact that they didn't belong where they belong and don't belong anywhere else in future administration of any sort, well... you're stupid.

Would you cop to being inept?  Would you cop to just how exposed your backside is on a given day, if a real enemy wants to give it a go?  Would you really admit anything?  Or would you shut it all up and do your best to make sure no one knows just how fragile and frail is your thin little grip on things like "interior intelligence," "air superiority," and "total aerial lockdown?"  Everyone all throughout your national defense network, both before and after the crime, performed about as well as an 85 year old janitor, charged with security, who happened to be whacking it in the bathroom while his erstwhile bank got robbed blind by a handful of keystone crooks armed with nothing but boxcutters and terroristic threats.  Are you going to admit something like that when it's not really even required?  I'd take the "make everything secret" route, personally.

For the security of the country, if nothing else.

I had forgotten frmr President William Jefferson Clinton had a speaking engagement near my home this morning.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I saw one of these babies roll by me on W. Lake Sammamwich Drive as I made my commute:




Holy piss, man.  Honestly, one man needs this kind of security?  Against... terrorists?  Jihadis?  Seriously?  The Jihadis require us to send in fucking SWAT vehicles as a precaution?  Did Usama bin Ladin recruit RoboCop or something?  I just have to question this threat we supposedly face.  I think it's becoming patently ridiculous, and I'm beginning to think that maybe the Powers to Be know something I don't know.  That maybe the threat to these politician scumbags isn't terrahwrists.  Something to chew on.  Carry on.

What follows is my open letter to Prezzinents Tush Bush.  In it, I espouse a fairly unpopular position about an international conflict/crisis, but it's time for simple Americans to stand up and start helping our leader make the decision that he needs to make for the future of human life on this planet.  The time is NOW.  The enemy is NOT our elected government.  No, sir.  The enemy is the terrorists.

Dear Mr. Prezinent,

Please bomb the ever-loving fuck out of treacherous terrorland Iran.  I've suspected their treachery for a long time, but your team's recent speeches have solidified in my mind the urgent need we all have to spill Iranian blood.  There are two reasons why the Iranian Problem can only be solved by annihilating Iranian nationals who stand in our way:

1. They are building a clandestine nuclear bomb.  No international body will ever be able to prove that they're not mere months away from acquiring a nuclear device.  Do we have time to wait for that which is never coming?  Their unwavering evil efforts to attain a sensitive weapons technology we've repeatedly told them they cannot have must be brought to an end.  What do you do when you tell your child he cannot have a cookie, but you think he might be edging toward the cookie jar as he stands in your kitchen under the watchful eye of satellite imagery and the most dialed-in intelligence network the world has ever seen?  You split his head open with a hammer. The nerve they have, to actually think that they can eat cookies like we do.  Bathe them in fire and let the ashes of their blood choke the lungs of the survivors.


2. President Mahmoud Ahmadereacharound is a real douchebag.  I'd like to add a cellphone video of him being hanged to my growing collection of videos of terrorists being executed by our comrades.  If that's not possible, could we at least bomb the snot and brains out of him, then reassemble his cadaver for a worldwide "kill confirmation" simulcast?  I'm honestly having an extra 10 minutes falling asleep every night as I work myself into a frenzy, praying for his death, so the least you could do is kill two birds with one stone and give me back that 10 minutes of my nightly routine.  He said, and I'm not exaggerating, that he's planning to strap a nuclear weapon to his chest and detonate it in downtown Jerusalem personally. WHAT MORE CONFIRMATION OF HIS EVILNESS DO YOU NEED?

I know you have a great many political considerations in this country before you can just, you know, drop millions upon millions of pounds of beautiful, candy-like bombs all over the Iranian landscape.  Some people probably disagree with that.  I have two words: internment camp.  Nuff said?  No?  Ok, here's another one: we have sophisticated poisons, biological agents, and a brilliant set of wires and tubes to help you identify the threats at home.  For what are you waiting?  Those who would delay us, question our motives, or express a will different than that of, well, you, need to be silenced.  Forever.  Please kill all the Democrats.

There is also the question of the consequences of starting another bombing campaign.  Also, the fact that Iran just threatened to launch 9,000 bombs at nearby American targets if we attack them from the air weighs heavy on the minds of many of the world's citizenry.  I know you're too much of a chickenshit pussy to do it, but have you forgotten what we're launching this campaign over?  You've got a nuclear weapon.  How surprised do you think Iran would be if you just went ahead and shattered their entire populace and infrastructure with a single volley?  Again, that's pie in the sky stuff, and I know you're probably a little hesitant.  I just want to point out, for the record, that if any bombs hit American people in the region after you launch your attack, their blood will be on your hands for not listening to me and bringing nuclear holocaust upon the Iranian scums.

The time to act is now.  We can't allow Iran to get a nuclear device; as your team has stated, we won't allow that to happen.  Put your money where your mouth is and put the greatest military this world has ever known to work on the Iranian Problem, and together we can turn it into the Iranian Solution.  If you don't, who will?  If you don't, who will?  I await your answer, Sir, and I only hope that it comes in a low rumble of bombs, followed by the wailing of sirens, lamenting women, and more airborne American ordinance, half a world away.  The world will hear our music and know our resolve to defeat terror on this Earth for all of eternity.


P.S. - To all my Iranian friends who may miss the nuance of this message in translation: the preceding was a desperate piece of satire aimed at the sickening times in which we currently find ourselves mired.  I hope against hope that my country doesn't bomb you.  That is all.  Please don't do a whois on me and slit my parents' throats; I wish you no harm.  Quite the opposite, actually.

Lead Us, O Mongoloid

We don't mind where you take us
When we signed up for this, we loved our country
We still do
But we'll follow your heart to the end of the world and back

We'll bring the plunder of our great riches
All the people of the world will sing our songs
Lead us, O Mongoloid
Boy king with mandate and agenda

Don't ever stray from point, O Sir
Keep your enemies, both domestic and foreign, at bay
Still their tongues and poison their dissent
Lead us onward into battle

Let us slay your enemies
When we signed up for this, we loved our country
We still do
But we'll follow your commands; we'll walk into a towering inferno for your love

My mom misses me
I do not think of that
There is killing to do, O Mongoloid
And I love you, too

News hodgepodge y'all:

Larry Fuckin Craig (R - Idahomo)

Sorry, that was in poor poor taste, but I can at least apologize for something.  Larry Craig has only apologized for pleading guilty to charges he now claims are false.  Fabricated.  He's essentially calling a veteran police sergeant a liar.  We LOVE our law enforcement, and we feel that they answer our nation's call to serve, often plunging headlong into danger and uncertainty.  They are the real heroes of this country.  You know, until they catch you cruising for bathroom blowjobs at an airport; then they're lying scum, not to be trusted.  I personally don't feel he did anything wrong.  If you can't solicit a stranger for sex in a very nonchalant sort of secret cruiser code, then what can you do?

My only problem is the lying.  Just stop with this "he said, he said" balderdash.  When the cop showed you his badge, Mr. Senator, you screamed, "NO!"  Nothing else you say explains that away.  It's the key to this entire case.  Why did you cry out in negatory anguish when some guy next to you pulled out his badge and pointed at the door?  I wouldn't say "NO!!!!!" if I wasn't doin' nothing.  I would, of course, ask, "what?"  It seems to me that any sort of rational person would start with a question or something.  Let's take a look at some more rational responses than "NO!":

1. "What the fuck is that?"
2. "Um, can I help you?"
3. "I swear, I'm not stealing toilet paper!"
4. "What are you, the Feces Police?"
5. "Hey!  Cut that out!"
6. "A little privacy, please."
7. "Oh, shit.  And here I thought you wanted to help me get rid of this raging 62-year-old boner.  Well, let's step outside so you can book me and end my political career.  You caught me red-handed, old sport!"

The Reaper

The U.S. military has had some pretty cool recent advances in remote warfare.  Since 9/11, we've been employing Predator drones (the terrorists are the PREY!), fully loaded with Stinger missiles (ooh, I bet that stings, motherfucker).  We recently introduced armed robots to the battlefields of the war on terror, codenamed SWORDS.  Bad fuckin ass.  Now, we've got a fully-loaded super drone that's on par with a real fighter jet in terms of the payload it carries.  According to USA Today, that's 3,750 lbs. of joystick-operated bombs.  The name?  How about "Reaper," ladies and gents?  You will reap what you sow!  You sowed violence on 9/11, and the fucking Reaper is coming to your home and killing all ur dudes, Usama!  Sorry, this is all a bit out of control.  If we name our next robot "Angel of Death," I'm turning in the keys to my blog.  For reals.  Why don't you just call the next one "Martyrmaker," and get it over with?  I'm sick of this zealous hard-on for blowing people to fuck.  Just because some of their crazies have it doesn't mean my tax bux need to have it. 

One fucking Reaper costs $69 million, btw.

You Would Slit Your Wrist Too, If You Were Owen Wilson

I hate to revel in the pain of others, but someone needed to stop Owen Wilson from turning in a relentless stream of diarrheal movie performances.  Good on him to step up and take care of that.  Maybe the knife he put to his wrist and the pills he guzzled will serve as a wake-up call that it's not too late: he used to be funny about 7 years ago (yep, that's when Meet the Parents came out).  I only have trouble imagining how he lived so long with the turmoil of being what he had become.  That he finally tore at his own circulatory system in a fit of substantiated self-destruction might assure that we'll never see another "YOU ME AND DUPREE."  Honestly, stop being surprised this happened.

I do want to say that my thoughts are with him and his brothers, as well as all of their family.  I wish him a speedy recovery, and I hope the blood he lost is the blood that was flowing in his brain when he read the script for "YOU ME AND DUPREE," and thought, "fuck it, let's go."