Could this be any more fun? As the world is living at a heightened level of anxiety, sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the bombs to drop, there are those Americans that can't wait for the fun to begin. Millions of Americans are anxiously awaiting the ultimate reality TV - WAR!
This is where it gets frightening, the Americans that want war. Oh yes they may say they don't want war, who wants war? But inside they are jonesin to relive the glory days of Gulf War I. Them were the days, all day and long past Ted Koeppel at night we watched those smart bombs wind their way into the bedrooms of the sleeping Baghdonians as we sat in our bedrooms lighting up a manly cigar after getting enough violence.
The night vision on the Apache gunships lit up the little men a day-glow green as they scampered out of their desert bunkers. Shoot 'em, shoot'em again. Down he goes. But wait his little light didn't go out. He is still glowing green. Is he still alive? Up he goes running off again, Apache Gunship fires, tearing up the real estate, still missing, but relentless. Dodging to the left, hopping to the right the gunners hunt down the little green man. Got him! This time the little green man turns into a black blob of death on the TV screen. Commercial break. Insomia? Can't sleep at night? Try Sominex and sleep sound tonight. And I wonder, do they have anything to calm the conscience of my mind? Can the commercials take away the guilt?
Those were the days when the Gunship shooters came and won their badge of courage. Those were the days when our heroes came home and paraded down main street America in a sea of read, white, and blue flags. America the bloodlust, celebrated Gulf War I and we are thirsty to do it again. But the world is different now. This war is a subset of the larger and strangely surreal war on terror. We have an enemy that is invisible to us. There is no profile, no boundaries, no end to the elusive bogeymen that want nothing but to kill us. Get out the duck tape, baton down the hatch, lock yourself in the closest closet, we are going for a ride. And don't forget the Sominex or the General Anxiety pills, or the Prozac, or your favorite picture of the fearless leader to give you faith in the closest closet. Then you will be literally out in the cold, in the dark, a loyal member of the Ostrich society. Boo!
The ride is Iraq, another war right on the heals of the Afghanistan debacle and the Philippines mystery jungle cruise. Afghanistan was not a war, it was not a blitzkrieg, it was a hostile corporate takeover and a lame excuse to clear the way for an oil pipeline. We never were very graceful about getting the Indians to move out of the way of progress. They transferred Mr. Karzai form Unocol to president of the country. Let's see would that be to secure the right of way for the pipeline? All the US can muster up for aid to rebuild the country is pipeline equipment. If the people get back on their feet who will want top work on a pipeline? Its a tough world when no one wants to work for you. So the US is training an army to protect Karzai and the Unocol pipeliine. Can you say PAx Americana? Hegemony?
Americans are warring people and we love this stuff. The COPS show just won't do it for us anymore, we need our reality fix, we want something BIG for prime time, something violent, something gory, something real! Warning: once you are on the violence reality junk, it is hard to get off. It has been proven that 90% of COPS fans go on to watch every war movie ever made and AND they line up to watch re-runs of the CNN coverage of Gulf War I. They are hooked, mainlining, can't get enough, give it to me now, where is that damn remote, JUNKIES!
Put on the tape recorder and save the shows for future fun. A wide array of new hi-tech weapons are coming out including the heinous, belly-button lint remover torture machine (very painful). Meanwhile the castrated peace-niks are protesting around the clock to get Phil Donahue back on the air and the war to end. Half the world is going nuts running around like ants that had gasoline poured down their nesthole, meanwhile the other half of the world is watching, slightly annoyed, slightly amused, curiosity seekers betting on the ants to go up in flames or will they just tire out from the anxiety that's been poured down their nesthole; makes one almost start looking around for a match.
No I won't be going along for the ride, just pour me another martini, and please hand me the remote, Seinfeld is on and I need a laugh while I am waiting for the next protest march; I don't want to miss the revolution, the revolution will not be televised, it will be satirized, chastised, baptized, revised, and realized by the masses in the streets as the greatest show on Earth.
###