Skip to main content


Guantanamo - 2008-07-17 12:00

We, the Coalition, got authority from the United Nations to go to Afghanistan and oust the Taliban . Anyone who fought against us was considered an illegal enemy combatant.
Many of them are in Guantanamo, held without charges, without rights.

Reaffirming its previous resolutions on Afghanistan, in particular its resolutions 1378 (2001) of 14 November 2001 and 1383 (2001) of 6 December 2001."Adopted unanimously by the Security Council at its 4443rd meeting, on 20 December 2001
The Security Council

As you may notice , if you check out the link, the resolution doesn't actually say anything about 'illegal enemy combatant,' or make a case against people defending the country they live in. That's all us -- and the way we chose to see it.

This is our new standard for war and the way we treat those who fight against us -- and like any standard, it can and will be used against us in the future. We no longer have the moral high ground to point to as our justification or rationale for anything. The only way we are allowed to complain about how our people are treated in other countries is by the use of force.

What we can do, others can do,-- unless we are bigger than they are and are willing to beat them if they don't cooperate with us.

As a nation we have always believed that might does not make right, rather that it is the force of our ideals and good intentions that made us great -- and democracy, as evidenced by the way we practice it, was always something others should want to emulate.

In a war that can almost by definition never end, perhaps it is time to put away the things of our youth and act like the bad motherfuckers we are. Maybe the problem is we are apologizing too much.

I just hope my grandkids don't have to pay for this, too.


Popular posts from this blog

Wedding and Funeral

Went to a wedding and a funeral this weekend with Mary. Sacramento, Santa Rosa, then home– a whirlwind trip through weekend bay area traffic. The traffic was horrible – life changing horrible, but not unusual.
As with most things, it’s a balance of an the unnamed terror and an easy chair in a padded room that rocks. 
The wedding was delightful, part of an interconnected strong woman’s club that marries off their daughters to provably weaker men. And so, the cycle continues, but the company was nice and I’m too old to wonder at the process anymore.
The funeral was for another interconnected strong woman, who, by hinkey or dinky, was a scary woman that I used to work with as a nurse. She would have been surprised that I outlived her, much as Charles the cat was. Please pay attention out there – this is how life works.
(To be fair, she didn’t put up with shit and I liked to throw handfuls of it around as if I were Christ standing on the back of a broken piƱata heaving candy cigarettes to the…

Only once

For clarity, I think I will write this only once.I do not write confessional poetry, and I do not write things down as a form of therapy. I write because I have something unique to say in a unique sort of way, a way that I think is universal in an analogous manner, not as any sort of literal telling of the truth.  I trowel spackle onto pages with a straight edged blade, I don’t paint aging widows with a brush. (My soul has been psychedelicized, but this shit’s not about me.)It comes in this form – that this relates to that, in this way – A form that I think illustrates things that are too true to be looked at straight on – personal truths that are usually discovered through interactions with other people – truths that are often relational, unreliable and subject to the weavings and debris of human beings. Truths that sneak out and become a miraculous surprise of insight – like a Zen master hitting you on the head with a baseball bat at just the right time.I don’t think I’m the only on…

How do I know when I'm done?

I left a message on Facebook for someone I care about that ended with the words, “one won”. I did it just because I thought was funny. That led to a whimsical discovery that I no longer had to place a period at the end of my sentences – in fact to do so would be rude and identify myself as an old person. 
It seems that, for online use anyway, a period has become a loud shout -- a purposeful exclamation point useful only in drawing unnecessary attention, or as a way of making an angry burp of anti-social angst. Sentences no longer end, they gently back out a side door when no one is looking -- they’ve become bars without a jail, or that angry driver just ahead of you who hesitates before moving through an intersection just to make a point of how stupid you are.
Since a period is no longer an end to a thought, its new function has evidentially become nothing but a stuffy ritual of formality that writers can now use to mark up or down generalized feeling of huffiness, or perhaps a way to s…