You know, on last thing, for those people that argue that Clinton could not have foreseen the consequences of the war . . . A lot of people did, and were ignored.
And prior to the war, on 9-11, some saw how that was going to be perverted.
I, myself, wrote the following on 9-11, that day. I pissed of my friends in NY, and went there soon after. I also began writing letters to Middle Eastern governments urging them not to condone the actions.
I also traveled overseas after 9-11, and the world loved us, felt for us. Bush foreign policy changed that, perverted what we stood for, who we are as people, collectively.
I also questioned the Iraq war later, around the time Obama did, maybe I was wrong, maybe they had some other information I didn't have access to, maybe they would find something. Instead, it turned out more vapid then I every could have imagined.
We need leaders with foresight. Period. Or, I predict, the debacles will continue.
I, myself, thought it was common knowledge New orleans was going to flood, I had read about it years before. We need a leader who will see some of these things beforehand. Period.
---------------------------
"Dr. Strangelove"
Tue Sep 11, 2001 8:36 PM EST
Or How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
Yeah, so who would do something like this? Who would think of
something like this? "Okay, what we need to do now is crash a couple
of airplanes into the World Trade Center!" "No man, I think we need
to hit the Pentagon, because you know it is really a just big
pentagram, that is were the devil lives." "No maybe Camp David, that
were he lives, hit him where it hurts." "What if we did them
all?" "Dude." "Yeah!"
Let's analyze the effects of this stoner plan. First they find some
stoners capable of flying a large jet, convince them that it will be
fun to fly in to a building, that they have always wanted to do it
anyway, that now they might finally be able to get in to heaven and
stop paying child support, that people will look up to them as
heroes for bringing down the great ugly Americans. They need to
coordinate a bunch of flight plans, and this takes them weeks of
trying to figure out the whole time zone thing. "Hey man, is this,
no this, hey when is this plane going to friggin' take off? Yo."
Complex, but maybe one of them used to work for United as a baggage
handler, knows these things without being able to really explain
them. He doesn't like the passengers anyway, he has become angry,
bitter, institutionalized in to seeing passengers as cargo, seeing
each as just another example of everything he hates about Americans.
Plan works, accept the one bound for Camp David, maybe the regular
crew figured out what was up, maybe they'd seen the Patriot too
many times, or maybe he just wasn't that good of a pilot. Crash.
Shock. Death. Sadness.
Then those little concentric circles start forming, the TV waves
radiating out, similar to stones falling in a still pond.
Video images are uplinked to the great satellite network in the
heavens. All programming accept Public television and the Home
Shopping Network switch over. Talking heads pop up and begin
endlessly talking about the same images over and over. The cellphone
network goes down. Everyone freaks out. People are called up, "turn
on the news," "Are you watching the news?" "Someone is crashing
planes in to the World Trade Center!"
Family pets wonder what is happening, along with very small
children. Older kids think this sort of thing happens all the time. "Didn't
this happen before, with the big Gorilla?" Everyone initiates
every contingency plan they have ever thought of before. "Close
everything, the Russians are coming just like in Red Dawn! Where is
my Buck knife?"
They close airspace, bring out the bomb sniffing dogs, abandon the
White House, everyone finds an undisclosed bunker to hide out
in. "Maybe we should just close the friggin' borders, how much food
do we have?" Maybe not with Canada though, that might not look so
good. The great media center of Manhattan turns in on itself. One
big loop of amateur clips begins to be endlessly rearranged. One
hour into it Tom declares we are witnessing history in the making,
he pauses, we watch together the same footage overdubbed with
historical sounding music and nicely composed captions.
The affect is numbing, one hour into it and it seems like ancient
history. But you know that it is just beginning. You know that if
Bill was willing to send several cruise missiles at a few million dollars
each in to Afghanistan, George will not be out done. These poor
little stoners obviously didn't think about what they were doing.
Many Middle Eastern leaders quickly realize this though, and quickly
appear in teleconferences apologetic and condemn this act of
barbarism, as crowds dance in the streets in the background. The
crowds don't realize what is going to happen next.
Now the political parties will unite and give the jackass from Texas
carte blanc approval to any hair brain idea that enters Dr. Dealth's
little mind. This man campaigned on how well he used his pen to
bureaucraticly kill people. Laws will be passed as the story is
countlessly rerun for weeks and TV movies of the week (MOWs) are
quickly produced and a shrine is made out of the buildings. Everyone
will wear yellow ribbons and the country will unite like never
before to fight the new post-cold war threat. There will be countless
TV series spin-offs. Madison Avenue types will egotistically drone
on about their war stories, like they live in the West Bank,
arrogantly missing the point. No one will feel free to question
world trade policies again, and Mac-Culture will spread under the
guise of martyrdom.
Remember the poor firemen, police, and emergency workers? I am not
saying this cynically, that is truly sad. But you know that their
grief and their families are going to be exploited, did you see the
footage of the camera people chasing them around as they were trying
to do their jobs, and trying to save themselves. And what about the
janitors and office grunts that had to be in the office bright and
early? There was something really sad about the news people calling
up that one guy in the WTC and asking him what was going on, "We're
fucking dying in here!"
But us Americans on the outside have to make sense of it all. We
have to apply deep meaning to it. We have to agitate the wounds and
grapple with our own mortality. We have to numb our senses.
I observed the local news cutting in, someone from the Red Cross
saying that they have not been asked for blood yet, but their trying
to be prepared. That they have teams ready to go to New York. That
if you volunteer now and join your Red Cross that you wont be able
to go, but that these things will probably happen again and then you
can go. She seemed oddly excited, like she had been watching ER none
stop for twelve hours before this cut in on her radio shack police
scanner. This is why I never wanted to use my EMT training, these
people are sometimes a little too eager.
So anyway, I don't think I'll be watching anymore TV again for
awhile. I think the stoners really fucked themselves this time. My
sympathy to the families of everyone involved. No good ever comes of
this sort of thing. Best not to become to swept up in the furore.
Best to seek some detachment, some other prospective. Best not to
hide under desks. Best not to draw any solid conclusions. Best not
learn the lesson of hate. Best to take it one day at a time until
things are again peaceful and one can again plan for a better
future. . .
