I read today that two senators I usually think are fuddy-duddy putzes are taking the lead in asking some pertinent questions.
According to the Washington Post, senators Byrd and Hollings are questioning the scope of President Bush’s defense budget request and the open-ended nature of the “war on terrorism.”
‘Sabout friggin’ time.
I mean, I was all for the initiative in Afghanistan simply because, well, hell, we had to blow something up. A country can’t just take a hit like that and not express a show of force, especially against an ideology as stupid and brutish as the one espoused by Al Queida (who is this “Al,” anyways?). I had hoped that our purpose in Afghanistan hadn’t really been about finding bin Laden or about waging a “war on terrorism.” I had hoped that it was just about kicking somebody’s ass to show people that we still can and will when we’re pushed. If that was the purpose of action in Afghanistan, we have achieved it, and it is time to set up the provisional government, let those people get back to farming poppy seeds for good American heroin, and to come home.
Now, however, Bush wants to escalate the “war on terrorism.” In my opinion, emphasizing an offensive against terrorism is the wrong approach. Sept. 11 didn’t happen because we forgot to kill enough terrorists. It happened because the protectors and generators of this nation’s intelligence had become fat and happy with the end of the Cold War and because the security systems in our airlines had gone to bloody hell. Homeland Security is the name of the game, but our president wants to keep on beating his chest about the “axis of evil.” History has taught us that going to war with ideas is kind of like owning a boat. Ya’ll know what a boat is, don’t you?
It’s a big hole in the water that you throw money into.
I’m ready for more Democrats to step up to the plate and start asking questions. We’ve got a president who was barely elected acting as if he has a mandate to lead who wants to go to war with the whole damned world. We’ve got a war going on that doesn’t seem to have an exit or an end in sight. Come on, Dems. Stand up and speak.
I laugh out loud at those Staples commercials where the company has, as a cost-cutting measure, only managed to invest in one pen. I laugh because it’s not so damned far-off from some of the things that I’ve seen.
I worked for a guy who one day became incredibly concerned that his employees were going through too many paper towels. For three days straight, this industry mover and shaker came out to the office and started interrogating our receptionist about the paper towels.
“Well, do you think the cleaning staff is using them for cleaning?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Belding*.”
“I swear, I just can’t figure out where all our paper towels are going to!”
His eventual solution to the problem was to stop providing paper towels in the bathroom. This lasted for a few days. Hopefully, somebody eventually explained to him that, if you discourage people from washing their hands, you are actually creating a health issue in your office. I haven’t reviewed the regulations, but I’m sure that OSHA would have had something to say about it.
This is why I insist that capitalism is a wonderful system but has a fatal flaw. My boss was spending more time squinting at his bottom line than he was realizing how ridiculous his nickel-and-diming was. This was a cat who spent thousands and thousands of dollars every week on newsprint, and the cat was bent out of shape about paper towel use in the office. I think this is where one could appropriately use the word “Dayum.”
So don’t go thinking that these Staples commercials are far off. They aren’t.
*Mr. Kirkland’s name has been changed in this example to “Mr. Belding” to protect his anonymity.
I’m your only friend. I’m not your only friend, but I’m a little glowing friend, but really, I’m not actually your friend, but I am…
Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch who watches over you…make a little birdhouse in your soul.
I have a secret to tell from my electrical well. It’s a simple message, and I’m leaving out the whistles and bells. So, the room must listen to me—filibuster vigilantly. My name is blue canary, one note, spelled l – i – t – e. My story’s infinite! Like the Longines Symphonette, it doesn’t rest!
There’s a picture opposite me of my primitive ancestry which stood on rocky shores and kept the beaches shipwreck-free. Though I respect that a lot, I’d be fired if that were my job, after killing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts. Bluebird of friendliness, like guardian angels, it’s always near.
While you’re at it, keep the nightlight on inside the birdhouse in your soul.