The way it works is this: America 'liberates' a country that hasn't had a democratic thought in a thousand years. Sectarian violence erupts and America is ensnared in an urban guerilla war. The fact is that urban guerilla wars are impossible to win and there was never a chance that we would win, so now that we've wrecked a nation and spent a fortune and killed a whole lot of people, we're realizing we're fucked. But the only way to pull out without admitting defeat is to blame everything on somebody else-- in this case, the fledging government and military that we claimed just months ago that we would back unconditionally until they could maintain order. It'll be a long process of blaming everyone but ourselves so that the failure in Iraq, according to history books printed in Texas, will be the failure of the Iraqi people themselves, not the people who toppled their original government over lies and helped install a less effective one that was far less secure than the one they originally had.
Everyone chant with me: USA!! USA!! USA!!
On the one hand, I love my country because it's like that fat kid on the playground who pokes the little kid with a stick until the little kid goes apeshit and beats him with a He-Man lunchbox. Then fattie goes home and explains the black eye by saying it was all the little kid's fault. On the other hand, I hate my country because we, the people, are the parents who will either believe him and kiss him on the forehead, or whip his ass for starting trouble and then trying to lie about it. And we'll do that first one. You can be god damn sure of that.
Class, blah. Writing, blah. Bar, blah. Shatner, hell yes!
Drink Count: 5
The politics of cats and dogs (click and make it big, I dare you):
1 comment:
The scariest, cutest dog ever. I love cynical looking cats. They remind me of an ex-girlfriend. Oh wait, she was a cynical bear.
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