For the Fallen
Earlier today I was horrified at a story about a field full of young boys who were killed while playing soccer. (The story continues to change -- click here.)
My first thought, besides how horrifying this notion was as the mother of a 12 year old boy, is that if this were a field full of Christian boys, everything would have stopped in its tracks, the media would have been plastered with the news, and the world would have ground to a halt with grief thrown at them by CNN.
By the time I arrived home this evening and had a chance to take a look at the story, I had to run a search for it on MSNBC. Like it never happened.
Now, it could be that the story has indeed changed and that no boys were killed at all, as the link above suggests. Not today in that particular blast, anyway.
But there is no question that tens of thousands of children have been killed in this conflict. But I guess that because they're Iraqi children, they're considered....what? Expendable? Isn't that the only explanation? I mean, otherwise, any reasonable person, let alone the leader of the free world, would have called a halt to the carnage a long time ago. Right?
You there, in the White House. You're a mangy lot of miserable human beings to bring this war down around the heads of us all and not have the guts to say you were wrong and pull out. There has never been, and will never be, any real justification for this war in Iraq. You have brought unimaginable loss and grief to the world, and there is not a single thing to show for it. There were no weapons. Osama Bin Laden is still out there. And young American men and women are coming home without arms or faces or legs or as pieces put in boxes for their parents or husbands or wives. You are the shame of this nation, and we share the shame and the blame for allowing you to get away with it all this time.
You are despicable.
I do not have the faith as you do, Mr. President. But if I did, I would be sorry for you, because if there is such a thing as a reckoning, you will have yours, sir, you will surely have yours for this.
Tim O'Brien and Phillip Aaberg, Howdy Skies Music/Universal Music Pub/Big Open Music/ASCAP
The seeds of this war were sewn in our father's time
And every bomb will plant some more fear and hate
Let's break this chain of history before it gets too late
How many men will choose to run with the mad dog
How many more will have to die at his bloody hand
And who will shield our children from this plague that kills our land
I close my eyes and ears, don't want the news
I will not watch them play the scenes again
Don't ask me who's side I'm on, or what I think about it
Cause I don't want to play that game, I'm not buyin in
What do you need to get through the daytime
What do you need to get through the night
posted by Mando Mama @ 9:26 PM
4 comments
4 Comments:
Bush says he has no trouble sleeping at night. That's why this kind of thing will never bother him. It's unimaginable. And being done in our name.
Dig it! Teh Decider sleeps like a living baby because his conscience is ruled by his Faith in a hierarchy of delusions. His concept of a Creator as One which helps those who help themselves is Supreme.
His ilk will neither catch bin Laden nor address the real concerns which fuel that particular madman's psychotic AND sociopathic intentions.
I think the story of the soccer players' deaths may never be truly known. As is always the case in warzones, both sides will tell their tales with their own ends as primary colors in their telling. What realism there is will most likely never be ascertained with any confidence.
We can surely count on Shrub's policies creating more death, despair and cultural dysfunction though. Of that, at least, there can be no more doubt...
Look at this.
Hey y'all,
There's my choir, lol.
Blueberry, it is unbelievable, and the worst part is it is being done in our name. I mean, hey, I don't remember giving my permission to do any such thing in my name, do you?
Mr. B, that's right. It's all about the delusion. CIC is living in a world that is completely made up, based in a different reality altogether -- his own.
Shameless,
Amazing how the story keeps changing, isn't it? I think I smell napalm...
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