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Now, we have body bag totals starting to pile up. Guess it wasn’t as easy as the cable news networks tried to portray it, although they do seem giddy with anticipation, over the possibility of all the follow ups, and interviews with the family members and platoon mates.
Have you ever seen so many middle aged, white men in your life? I haven't seen that many suits in one place since the last time I was at happy hour at the bar of the local Holiday Inn. They are all standing on these large maps, and they all look like such dorks. It’s like a chess game for them, or game of Risk. Did you ever play that? You start with a map of the world and everyone gets different colored pegs. The goal is to invade and conquer as many continents as possible. We used to play it for days, when we were kids, it’s a very long game, and it seems to never end.
I think the troops all deserve our heartfelt prayers, but the problem with this media blitz, is that if these incidents become more commonplace, and the death tolls on both sides, continue to mount, they will eventually drop their coverage of families and soldiers like yesterday’s news. When this War ends, and hopefully it will, our government and media, won’t help the veterans, especially the injured ones. Just ask any of our injured veterans of previous conflicts. I’ll remember them, and try to help them, and I hope you do to.
It is shame that we can’t elect our media outlets and reporters the same way we elect (or try to) the other people who decide public and foreign policy issues. It's not a game, guys.
Here’s a description of Risk from their homepage and here’s the web address to it, if anyone is interested. Why watch it on TV when you, too can play the game of global domination, and no one gets killed in this board game.
http://boardgamecentral.com/games/risk.html
"Risk is a game of world domination, where the object is to conquer the world. To win, you must attack and defend – attacking to acquire territory, and defending to keep it from your opponents.
The game board features a map of six continents divided into 42 territories. It's a game of strategy as you battle to win by launching daring attacks, defending your territory, and moving across continents with your cunning plan! Play three variations: World Domination, Capital Risk, and Secret Mission Risk. This game will engage and challenge any player to join the ranks of world leaders!
The board game versions include dice, Risk cards, and six sets of miniature armies. The software versions feature cutting-edge artificial intelligence and stunning 3-D graphics, as well as excellent multiplayer options."
That’s the ticket, W.
I hate this War. I hated watching the bombing's today and then listening to the smug voices of Ari Fleischer and Donald Rumsfield. It seems, according them, the military didn’t hit any civilian targets. We all know that this can’t be true.
Then I got to hear in two separately released statements that our fearless leader failed to watch the military action. He laughed it off and said that he rarely watches TV. Hours later, after finding out that he had put his foot in his mouth, yet again, our hero, changed his mind about whether he witnessed it in real time, or not and said “ Oh, wait I did watch it as it was happening.” That’s the ticket, W.
That was one of the most horrible scenes that I have ever witnessed in my life. I feel so sorry for the Iraqi people, (the real ones) especially the families and children that were hiding in basements around the city. Every prayer I‘ve got goes out to them tonight.
My heart goes out to all of our enlisted men who were simply following the orders of corporate failures who couldn‘t even run a company properly and are now busy running our military and government the same way they did their previous positions.
They called this shock and awe. I called it nausea and disgust.
I want to take a minute and explain my blog process for you. This is nothing, but my own personal writing exorcism to rid myself of clutter, demons, and nice memories, too. I have many miserable things that I could write about, however I choose not to, and that may lead some to believe that I have had an easy life, trust me, I haven’t, maybe later I’ll share some of the torment, for right know I’d rather dwell on all the positive things that have happened to me along the way.
As easy as it is to write fiction it is much harder to write biography or autobiographical material; attitudes, ideas, and sentimental thoughts may creep in from time to time.
If you have an objections to the material, then don’t read it, and that is as easy as point and click.
I have to warn you that sometimes the Bullshit Fairy visits my pillow late at night and leaves a mess behind and then I have to deposit it here. He does this regularly. Maybe he’ll visit your house too.
Bead Rage, Mardi Gras, and War in 2003
One thing that I witnessed this year (more than usual) was multiple acts of bead rage. Also known in city slang as “Motherfucker, he threw them beads to me” Syndrome, at which time a tug of war goes on, and the beads break in half, scattering into the street and rendering them useless for hanging on your rear view, or later storage in your attic. I mean come on people. Let the babies have the stuffed toys and if a girl has flashed her way into the biggest, bestest, ones on the float rack, then you’ve got to give them to her.
And if someone does step on your Popeye’s fried chicken meal, don't threaten to beat them up, just pick them big, fat, dirty, breast up off the street, and brush the dirt, grime, and footprints off, and continue eating, or you could choose to sterilize your chicken meal with a can of beer ( I saw this) and then you have yourself, some real drunken chicken. Why do you think we call it dirty rice, anyway?
Militaristic themes on floats may have contributed to the abundant, bead rage attacks this year, since a few full fledged battles, almost broke out, all along the parade route on Veterans Blvd in Metairie. Some were only limited skirmishes over staked out turf, (grassy medians are some of the most desirable properties in New Orleans on Mardi Gras Day) with instant walls of tents, going up, and self appointed sentries, guarding coolers, lawn chairs, and sometimes demanding sexual favors to cross over their borders and into the occupied territories, and make it to the Port a Johns on the other side of the street. Occasional police actions were called when the combatants become unruly. I only saw two weapons pulled all day, when I watched a couple of drunk guys, uncock their penises, and threaten a tent settlement of women with biological terrorism on their blankets if they didn't let them pass the demilitarized zone of radical lesbians immediately.
There was the one float simply titled WAR, it was puke green, with WAR, WAR, WAR, written in big black letters all over it, like they couldn’t figure out anything witty, or clever to go with a theme of mass murder and possible Nuclear pre-emptive strikes.
Somehow murder, death, guns, bombs, and violence don’t go with Mardi Gras. We were there to try and forget about that stuff.
We were the ones dancing next to the official WAR float and singing our own patriotic protest songs. Our favorite song this year was “ WAR! War what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again. WAR! War what is it good for? Absolutely nothing.”
It was a good party (Mardi Gras always is) and the Cannabis front was out dressed with full paraphernalia and hemp regalia with some of the most popular throws being the big, green, shiny, beads shaped like Marijuana leaves (we got some.) And quite a few people sported large, green, gold, and purple, peace sign beads in the crowd, and on the floats.