Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Can't write
I have written three different blogs tonight and deleted them all. Doesn't matter what they meant. What they said or even what they were about. They weren't witty. They weren't funny. They didn't divulge any great insight to me or my thoughts. They just rambled. They got lost in the ever swirling moment that is my brain. Facts, numbers, thoughts, hate, love, rage....I wish I could ,at the very least, say it was cathartic. It wasn't. It was frustrating. I'm seconds from back spacing this bitch. Instead I'll finish this Lucky and drink my pop (with sugar I'm feeling saucy)and stare blankly into this blogging abyss.
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Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Ralph
Dear Ms. Sheehan,
From your grief over the loss of your son, Casey, in Iraq has come the courage to spotlight nationally the character of a President who refuses to meet with anyone or any group critical of his illegal, fabricated, deceptive war and occupation of that ravaged country. As a messianic militarist, Mr. Bush turned aside his own father's major advisers who warned him of the political, and diplomatic perils to the United States from an invasion of Iraq. He refused to listen.
Thirteen organizations in early 2003 separately wrote their President requesting a meeting to have him hear them out as to why they opposed his drumbeating, on-the-road-to war policies. These groups represented millions of Americans. They included church leaders, veterans, business, labor, retired intelligence officials, students, women and others. They are among those Americans who are not allowed through the carefully screened public audiences that are bused to arenas around the country to hear his repetitive slogans for carrying on this draining, boomeranging war. They each wrote President Bush but he never bothered even to acknowledge their letters simply to say no to the requested meetings. Not even the courtesy of a reply came from their White House.
Ever since then it has been the same—exclusion, denial, contempt and arrogance for views counter to that of Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney and the tight circle around them that composes the inner tin ear of this Administration. Why, they even refuse to listen to objections by their own government's military lawyers (JAG) over repeated violations of due process of law. When will he realize that he is supposed to be the President of all the people, not just those misled into supporting his Iraq maneuvers?
Perhaps the breakthrough will begin this hot August in Crawford, Texas, with the devastating loss of a beloved child transformed into a mission for the soul of our country. This rogue regime, led by two draft-dodgers and officially counseled by similar pro-war evaders during the Vietnam War, is not “our country.” Millions of Americans, including military and public servants in his Administration, and many in the retired military, diplomatic and intelligence services, opposed this war, still oppose it and do not equate George W. Bush and Dick Cheney with the United States of America.
Our flag stands for “liberty and justice for all.” Our flag must never be misused or defiled as a bandanna for war crimes, as a gag against the people's freedom of speech and conscience or as a fig leaf to hide the shame of charlatans in high public office, who violate our Constitution, our laws and our founding fathers' framework for accountable, responsive government.
You will be goaded to cross the semantic line against a President who himself has crossed the much graver constitutional line that has cost so many lives on both sides and continues to cost and cost our country in so many ways domestically and before the world. Neglecting America for the Iraq war has become the widening downward path trod by the Bush government.
Authenticity, bereft of contrivances, is what must confront this White House Misleader. And authenticity is what you are and what drives you as you demand to see this resistant President. He is on an intermittent month long vacation, with spells for fundraisers and other insulated events. His schedule provides ample time for such a meeting. You
reflect the hopes and prayers of millions of like-minded Americans.
Should he relent and opens his doors, be sure to ask why he low-balls U.S. casualties in Iraq, deleting and disrespecting soldiers seriously hurt or sickened in the Iraq war theater, but not in direct combat. Remind him of those soldiers back in military hospitals who, with their families, wonder why they are not being counted as they cope with their serious and permanent disabilities. (60 Minutes, CBS program).
Ask him why, despite Pentagon audits and GAO investigations about corruption, waste and non-delivery of services in Iraq by profiteering large corporations totaling billions of dollars, this Commander of Chief accepted campaign contributions from their executives and proceeds to let this giant corporate robbery continue without the requisite law and
order?
Consider bringing to him a copy of President Dwight Eisenhower's famous “Cross of Iron” speech, delivered in April 1953 before the nation's newspaper editors in Washington, D.C. And add statements by Marine General Anthony Zinni (ret.), a Middle East specialist who strongly criticized the Bush-Cheney war policy before and after March 2003.
May you and your associates succeed in galvanizing the public debate in this country over why a growing majority of Americans now think it was a costly mistake to invade Iraq and want our soldiers back, with the U.S. out of that country. He knows that his support for how he is handling this war-occupation is falling close to one third of respondents in recent polls—the lowest yet. Even with the mass-media at his disposal everyday, he now represents a minority of public opinion, which should give him pause before closing his oil marinated doors on majority views in this nation.
May you prevail where others have failed to secure an audience with Mr. Bush.
Sincerely,
Ralph Nader
Monday, August 01, 2005
Summer
Smoking a Lucky Strike outside in the sweltering heat I had one of those moments. Summer. We are in the middle of it. Remember when Summer meant something? That last day of school. That feeling of freedom! Summer was the land of the unknown. The land of opportunity. The possibilities endless. California Coolers (remember those?) and the girls who drank them. All you needed was 10 dollars and a buddy who could drive and the world was yours. Man made lakes (a great invention obviously done by a 16 year old), bad food with no guilt , dating people and both of you knowing it wouldn't last... and it was o.k., long days in parks with friends , and carnivals.
As I smoked that Lucky it hit me. Is this thing in my hand going to kill me? Do I have enough to pay my mortgage? What if I get fired...I'm fucked. I blew the smoke out. I need a fucking vacation. Maybe I'll go see my Dad he has been sick lately...I blew out another lung and began thinking about "maybe I'm not even worrying about what I should be worrying about...what if I'm that far off track...HOLY FUCKING SHIT I BETTER GET BACK TO WORK" I flicked my one my true friend on the ground and stepped on it like I do most my friends eventually and thought about how fucking hot it was. I muttered something about hating Summer and went inside to the A.C.
Do yourself a favor this summer. Go find some cheap wine that tastes like Lemonade. Kiss someone like it was the first time you ever felt love. Go to a baseball game and be obnoxious. Get wet. Most importantly find a carnival and ride one of the sketchy rides. It's good for the soul.
Sight unseen, sad seas
Summer song sung all alone
Dragged across the seven seas
To the beach come follow me
Summer’s gone, a summer song
You’ve wasted every day, every day
Cellophane, grandma’s town
Summers letters on the ground
Seven pins the fall begins
When the leaves burn summer ends
Summer’s gone, a summer song
You’ve wasted every day, every day
Summers gone can’t wipe it off my hands
Write it in the sand, in the sand
Where’ve my heroes gone today
Mick and keith and willie mays
Broken windows, trails outside
I can take you for a ride
Summer’s gone, a summer song
You’ve wasted every day, every day
Summers gone can’t wipe it off my hands
Write it in the sand, in the sand
In the sand
Summer’s gone, a summer song
You wasted every day, every day
Summers gone can’t wipe it off my hands
Write it in the sand, in the sand
In the sand
In the sand
In the sand
-Summer
Buffalo Tom
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