Despite my attempts at life's little enchantments, this week carried a deep, dirty, rotten disgrace in its wake.
I refer, of course, to the decision of the Democratic Party majority in Congress to give George Bush a hall pass and a pot of gold to sally forth into Stage Freakazoid of His Holy Crusade. "Y'all be careful now, W.!"
The "conditions" the Party laid down are as tough as mom's dentures. I'm sure the Iraqis'll respond to U.S. ultimatums like children at The Great Father's Knee. That's what the little brown people always do when we get upset, isn't it? Colonialism With Conditions!
I expect, expected— fucking-always-expect— nothing from the Democratic leadership. Can you sing, LBJ, LBJ, How Many Kids Did You Kill Today?
But the past few months, the Dems have been outraged about Iraq. They've been determined in their election promises, devoted to pointing out the criminally negligent, self-mutilating vainglory of it all.
I thought, "Huh! They're going to follow their constituents' wishes on this. They published the best arguments of anyone! They're going to bring the reality check to the table and stand there to see it gets paid in full. Yee-Ha!"
We got the Happy Meal coupon instead.
What does it mean when the Speaker of the House says the compromise she just struck is something she herself wouldn't vote for? That's pathetic.
It says that at today's 23% approval rating for Bush's war plan— and counting down— the Bush Admin is still outmaneuvering the Democratic leadership. Who are the Dems playing to? Why should we bother to vote for a "President" in '08 at all?
What's left of the GOP is betting on the fantasy that they'll be better unified on horseshit than the Dems are drawn asunder on the same pile of dung. Both sides, in fact, are responding to corporate profits and lobbying strategies that have nothing to do with the public interest.
And, yeah, we know that, now.
So many people seem to get it, and are even mesmerized by the circle around the drain. But being led around by the nose is still very much in vogue. Voters have been played like marionettes on kneeslappers like "special gay rights!" and "immigration walls!"
Both houses, the Capulets and the Montagues, have given The War another pat on the back and a raise because they are beholden to, and blinded by, a different constituency than the one that voted them into office.
Who am I talking about? Quo Bene?
That's what I'd love to see spelled out in the daily papers of record. Talk about missing a set of teeth. They squander their space with dribble about how the Democrats are afraid of what they would "look like" if they aren't supportive of the troops getting their C-rations.
Look like? Are you kidding me? Who besides the gilded 1% is looking for anything, except an end to this immoral imperial charade? When are the Billion Dollar Dogs of Profiteering going to be put down?
One day Enron will be seen as a minor blip, a geologic footnote, in the glacier of greed that comprises the ruling class of this country. They will grind this world flat.
The people I see who are following the money are waaay on the outside— filmmakers like Robert Greenwald with Iraq For Sale: The War Profiteers— that's mandatory viewing. You can start your "who benefits?" list right there.
Then there's Amy Goodman's crew on Democracy Now: Ya gotta love Kenneth STARR, of all people, defending Blackwater's war contracts.
The war profiteers cannot be altruistic or public-spirited. They can't be fulfilled. It's like asking a scorpion to give you a free ride. They can't be talked into a wind-down, a slowdown, or letting up on the gas. Their existence as a permanent arms economy can only survive by expansion.
Until we take away their toys, they will break them; they will break us. We have to stop paying for them, voting for them, working for them. It's a vision thing, as King George might say— to stop seeing that we share the slightest, tiniest, mutual interest.
Bush and his posse were voted in by ungilded people who thought he represented their economic trust. What does it mean for them to regret that mistake? What will we do now, when it's all too apparent we're bleeding out?
Several weeks ago, Andrew J. Bacevich, a retired Army colonel who served in Vietnam, wrote an editorial in the Boston Globe:
"Today, Iraq teeters on the brink of disintegration. The war's costs, already staggering, continue to mount. Violence triggered by the US invasion has killed thousands of Iraqi civilians. We cannot fully absolve ourselves of responsibility for those deaths."
This past Mother's Day, he lost his own son, by suicide bomber in Iraq. In despair, he cried:
"What kind of democracy is this? When the people do speak, and the people's voice is unambiguous – but nothing happens?"
Then the words that must have been the hardest...
"I've been struggling...to try to understand my responsibility for my own son's death."
It's a question any American could ask, because we're losing our sons and daughters in every quarter. Our Constitution— an infant, really— is gasping for breath.
What kind of a democracy is this? It's a cradle that begs to be set right.
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