Sep 11, 2007
Sep 2, 2007
An open apology to my fellow Americans.
I saw a shooting star last night. Just chillin' outside, wishing I had a cigarette like it was nobody's goddamn business, when there it was - right up there, burning up in the xenosphere: a free wish. A shooting star.
I don't know how, but somewhere within my breast, it turns out there's a depth of moral fortitude that I've never seen before. God knows it hasn't bothered to show its head in recent years, but somehow, last night it shined so brightly it put my ego to shame. So I did not wish for a cigg.
But something I read today made me seriously rethink that decision. Oh, not that I should have wished for a cigarette - that's assumed; we've moved on from that - but a little twinge of doubt, a qualm even, makes me feel that I used my minute amount of divine influence irresponsibly and selfishly.
Do you remember 2002? I don't. Which is why I had to read an article somewhere or another.
Aside: If you must know, I was reading an ESPN article. It's not, as they say in the cheesy soaps, what it looks like; I am not a closet basketball junkie, keeping my 'Terps fandom on the downlow to keep my street cred with the geeks. In fact I'm reading a collection of articles by Hunter S. Thompson, pathblazer of Gonzo journalism. If you've read this far without cutting anything out or off of you, then it's safe to say that it's worth your time to check him out.
I had forgotten that at one point we (the populace) were being convinced that marijuana supports terrorism. All the money you spend on drugs goes right back into Bin Laden's pocket. Oh, and there was also the (somewhat later, if I remember correctly) scare that if you donate money to any organization that supports terrorism - regardless of wither or not you were aware of this - you were supporting terror, and no further cause was needed to arrest you.
It's so easy to look at these in retrospect and wonder how things could have gotten like this. 1984 or Amerika might spring to mind for some, or V for Vendetta for those who don't read. Or maybe we could split it down the middle of the road; that one episode of South Park.
But maybe that's because we were so pampered as children, growing up with a booming economy and conspiracy movies, that we have no idea what it's like to be in a for-reals war. We've been living in this dream world where our country can go to war and we can sit back and watch it on television, maybe flip over to the weather channel when the soldiers run out of children to shoot. We're appalled at the idea that a war might require a personal sacrifice from us.
Sometimes that sacrifice is civil rights. Usually it's money. But if we want to ever end this war, this hundreds of billions of dollars a year war, if we even want a prayer of putting an end to this before our children's children are paying for this, it's going to take much much more then an "I support our troops" ribbon. We need to donate our wishes.
Instead of asking for a pox upon the SLC housing department, I could have used that wish to request bigger budget cuts in our schools, so we can afford more tanks. I should have called out for the government to draft the poor people. I should have wished for Bush to die, so we can have a far more effective warmonger running the country.
But words, like bullets, cannot be called back, and what's done is done. It's no use crying over what could have been wished for; we must trudge forward and when the locusts overrun Bates just sigh and mutter, "oh well."
But to let more opportunities slip through our hands would be criminal. So henceforth, take note! First stars you see in the evening. Shooting stars. Pennies you flip into public fountains. Birthdays. Hell, wedding vows, if you can manage it. Overwhelming firepower, leadership, planning, greed, and corruption alone haven't won this war yet; it's time to start wishing for it.
I don't know how, but somewhere within my breast, it turns out there's a depth of moral fortitude that I've never seen before. God knows it hasn't bothered to show its head in recent years, but somehow, last night it shined so brightly it put my ego to shame. So I did not wish for a cigg.
But something I read today made me seriously rethink that decision. Oh, not that I should have wished for a cigarette - that's assumed; we've moved on from that - but a little twinge of doubt, a qualm even, makes me feel that I used my minute amount of divine influence irresponsibly and selfishly.
Do you remember 2002? I don't. Which is why I had to read an article somewhere or another.
Aside: If you must know, I was reading an ESPN article. It's not, as they say in the cheesy soaps, what it looks like; I am not a closet basketball junkie, keeping my 'Terps fandom on the downlow to keep my street cred with the geeks. In fact I'm reading a collection of articles by Hunter S. Thompson, pathblazer of Gonzo journalism. If you've read this far without cutting anything out or off of you, then it's safe to say that it's worth your time to check him out.
I had forgotten that at one point we (the populace) were being convinced that marijuana supports terrorism. All the money you spend on drugs goes right back into Bin Laden's pocket. Oh, and there was also the (somewhat later, if I remember correctly) scare that if you donate money to any organization that supports terrorism - regardless of wither or not you were aware of this - you were supporting terror, and no further cause was needed to arrest you.
It's so easy to look at these in retrospect and wonder how things could have gotten like this. 1984 or Amerika might spring to mind for some, or V for Vendetta for those who don't read. Or maybe we could split it down the middle of the road; that one episode of South Park.
But maybe that's because we were so pampered as children, growing up with a booming economy and conspiracy movies, that we have no idea what it's like to be in a for-reals war. We've been living in this dream world where our country can go to war and we can sit back and watch it on television, maybe flip over to the weather channel when the soldiers run out of children to shoot. We're appalled at the idea that a war might require a personal sacrifice from us.
Sometimes that sacrifice is civil rights. Usually it's money. But if we want to ever end this war, this hundreds of billions of dollars a year war, if we even want a prayer of putting an end to this before our children's children are paying for this, it's going to take much much more then an "I support our troops" ribbon. We need to donate our wishes.
Instead of asking for a pox upon the SLC housing department, I could have used that wish to request bigger budget cuts in our schools, so we can afford more tanks. I should have called out for the government to draft the poor people. I should have wished for Bush to die, so we can have a far more effective warmonger running the country.
But words, like bullets, cannot be called back, and what's done is done. It's no use crying over what could have been wished for; we must trudge forward and when the locusts overrun Bates just sigh and mutter, "oh well."
But to let more opportunities slip through our hands would be criminal. So henceforth, take note! First stars you see in the evening. Shooting stars. Pennies you flip into public fountains. Birthdays. Hell, wedding vows, if you can manage it. Overwhelming firepower, leadership, planning, greed, and corruption alone haven't won this war yet; it's time to start wishing for it.
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