Fear of a President

I could go on and on and on about this election. About how I was so devastated by Bush's win, that I felt desperate and panicked. As a friend of mine said in so eloquently in an email:

Oh god.
Oh fuck.
Oh no.

I was so energized about voting and the election and the chance to remove fucking Bush from his despot-ways of ruling the world. The next day, it was like my mom died.

www.sorryeverybody.com Check it out for a laugh and a sigh. I'll be there too.

*sigh*

Back in Black

I haven’t written in a long time and a million times I’ve wanted to. Every time I’ve started to though, I’ve been overcome by this overwhelming sense of ennui. This is really unfortunate since so many things, most of them dramatic, have happened to me in the past few months. Most of them have been shitty, but some of them have been okay to good:

-- I protested at the Republican National Convention, which was kind of cool and interesting until the end of the night.
-- I moved out of my posh East Village apartment with two lovebird roommates into a shithole up up Uptown apartment in Manhattan and so, went from having just barely enough money to being fucking frighteningly broke all the time and becoming very familiar with cereal as a meal.
-- I got digital cable and a cable modem internet hook-up (*CHEER!*) and then my laptop broke down, once and for all. (*SOB*). It looks like I won't be able to think about buying a new computer 'til January which means now I'm fucked since my phone service is connected to my cable modem hook-up. So, if I get rid of my cable modem (which I should), I'll have no phone service which I've already paid all the expensive start-up fees for.
-- I was a part of a crazy medical experiment which tests brainwaves and was filmed by ABC for a piece on it. The cap I had to wear with electrodes all over my head and face was something I’m sure any of my friends would have paid to see.
-- I’ve became overly-medicated like my grandfather once was.
-- I have developed an unusually close relationship to a urologist due to a medical problem that seems to completely flabbergast him and completely piss (ha ha) me off.
-- My genial ex-husband suddenly turned into a typical asshole one.
-- Just when I thought maybe I was going to get myself fired at work I got one of the most glowing reviews of my life.
-- I briefly dated some guy from the internet who started off great and ended up being a damn disappointment.
-- I was bumped from the Jon Stewart show (*angry scream*) and was shepherded off to the Collin Quinn show which was a fun experience, though missing J.S. after not only waiting several months, but also taking off early from work and standing in line for an hour and a half and HAVING TICKETS as well. Jon Stewart, you’re show is great, but that really sucks.

It is my goal to write about all these things, but I don’t know if it will happen. I’ve been feeling pretty depressed. Let me rephrase that, I’ve been Depressed. Notice the capital “D.” I know the signs. It happened once before when I was in grad school – my “forever” marriage had ended by my own doing, the reigning love of my life (different person) had moved in with me, treated me like dogshit, and them moved out all within the space of a year, I wasn’t doing as well in grad school as I thought I would (I started off behind), and I was broke (familiar theme). I spent about a full year praying to the non-existent god to catapult me in front of a fast-moving SUV and end my fucking miserable life since I lacked the courage to do it myself. After an initial visit to the counseling service with the intention of getting help with my already documented memory problems (in grad school you have to memorize GOBS of material), I ended up seeing a psychologist and psychiatrist respectively twice a week, medicated, and six months later, I was noticing the blooming flowers and the blue of the sky.

This is one reason that every time I’ve started writing in this blog again I’ve stopped. 1) I hate spilling my private personal stuff all over the page like some kind of morbid road kill. 2) I hate writing stuff that makes me seem whiny, complaining, DEPRESSED! Nobody likes that. I’ve had enough friends who needed professional and pharmaceutical help to know that they’re not fun to be around after awhile. It’s like someone slowly drowning you in black water.

Anyway, not wanting to get to the point I was nine years ago where death seemed sweet and seductive, I wanted to get help. I have health insurance this time, but apparently its mental health component is pretty lacking. Not to mention that everything needs a referral and it takes six weeks to get in to see my regular physician. In one of the local papers I noticed an advertisement from Columbia University for people who thought they may be depressed and wanted to be a part of free services. To make a long story short, I was all over that. Here’s the catch: no talk therapy. Just medication. It’s free. They do all the medical tests, you talk to psychiatrist, etc. But it is what it is – a medical study. Medical studies have their own agendas as well do I. I’m there to get free medication, they’re there to use me as guinea pig to (dis)prove their theory. I have no qualms with that, though I do admit I was rather disappointed not to have shrink sessions. I enjoy therapy. I feel it was valuable for me last time (as was the medication). But this is how it is. They want to try and experiment to see the effectiveness of aggressive medication (I won’t get into it now) and no therapy. Hell, I’m curious myself.

This is why I tell very few friends about this blog. I like to write about my experiences in Bangkok and NYC which they usually enjoy reading, sure, but I also need this blog to barf out all this secret stuff I’m ashamed of, just like I did on this page today. Sure, to the couple of people who actually KNOW me and might read this, I’m pretty humiliated right now, but that can’t really be helped. I have some damn good friends in my life right now, not a lot, but I’d say the quality of my friends is fantastic. My mother’s been pretty great too for the past year or so (so strange that I’ve often wondered if she’s secretly dying). And yet, I don’t feel like there’s anyone I can really talk to about this, and let’s face it, Depression still has its stigma. In fact, I know one person I know who may read this and puke on his own. He’s never really believed much in mental illness.

And naturally, I’m ashamed of my own weakness. Sometimes I even surprise myself at how independent and strong I am. Sometimes I feel I can do just about anything (not in that euphoric bipolar sort of way, mind you! *cough*). Sometimes I think there’s not anything I can’t adjust to. And yet, here I am, nine years later, back on the weak track. Yes, yes, I know all the arguments against that. I know all about how it’s more about a drop in your serotonin levels than it is about being “blue.” Nevertheless, I am disappointed in myself. And I think it makes me less attractive as a person to know, as a friend or lover. I know that personally, when I have met men with an enormous amount of baggage, I have just flat out not been interested (unlike my early twenties when I would have relished the challenge to “save him!”). And here I am now, a baggage carrier myself. Blah.

Well, the pills begin tonight. In eight weeks I should be flying higher than a kite. Will it be me or the wellbutrin???

Back in Black, Part I: Protesting at the RNC

Forgive me for writing about something that is so far in the past that no one gives a shit anymore. But since this blog has always been a selfish endeavor – to 1) practice writing on a consistent basis and 2) record my experiences in Bangkok and NYC – I hope you’ll overlook its staleness. I just don’t have the greatest memory and I enjoy reading about past events which are hazy, at best, in my mind.

During the last night of the RNC, when “W” was going to speak, I had worked late, ran some errands, and got home somewhere in the 9pm hour. Seconds after I was in the door, I got a call from “Adam” who was there at the protest, marching down the street with a giant crowd somewhere near Union Square. I was shocked and impressed. Though Adam is always willing to argue his political view, I never took him for someone actually getting out there and doing something like this. That was more of my territory, though I hadn’t done shit so far except for hang out with some academics studying the protestors in a hotel overlooking the protestors’ path.

Standing there, still with keys and bag in hand, I suddenly thought to myself, “WHY am I not there? I really do care about this election. I’m terrified that “W” will be re-elected. Why am I at home?” It wasn’t too late. My phone was beeping warnings at me that it didn’t have much juice left before it died, but I knew it would be crucial in order to meet up with Adam since he was obviously on the move somewhere between downtown and midtown. I plugged the phone into its charger while screaming into the phone, “I’m coming, I’m coming! I’m coming down now!” He kept telling me not to bother, but by then, the conversation was over to me and I hung up. As I quickly shed my work clothes and put on something more appropriate for running around the streets, I hoped that my phone would charge just enough to be able to call and find Adam once I got there.

In a few minutes I was out the door, and I turned off my phone to save energy. As the subway was chugging along, I felt a thrill. It felt right to be there, and although the majority of people at my work (a non-profit with politically-minded individuals with very strong feelings) had participated in various protests already, I had shied away from it. I’m not sure why. Though I wanted to be there, I didn’t know what to do, which one to join. I’ve always had my issues with activists, something I deal with a lot now, especially working for a non-profit that has its own advocacy concerns.

It wasn’t long before I reached 34th street and Broadway. When I emerged above ground, I was shocked to see more cops and barricades than I have ever seen in my life. I kept trying to edge my way over to Madison Square Garden, but it was blocked at every single possible street and side road. The cops weren’t stupid. I was sending text messages to Adam that I was there, as I circled the area looking for a good place to put myself.

I was in awe by the mass of people, mostly protestors, of every type and kind. Every group you could think of was there, all angry, all against Bush. There were the Jews in their side curls and black suits and hats. There were black Muslims. There were pro-choice protestors, labor unions, and groups that I couldn’t even figure out. What fascinated me even further was just the dialogue that was going on. I saw these wildly different groups talking to each other. They were having amiable political discussions, they were sharing their views. There wasn’t any shouting or arguing, there was a real unity out there. People were united to get rid of Bush, despite the fact they all came from such diverse backgrounds.

Finally, I called Adam as my phone beeped annoyingly in my ear. He was many blocks away. He couldn’t hear me, and I felt like each word was precious. After I hung up I sent text messages about the state of my dying phone. I would find out much later that his phone doesn’t receive text messages correctly.

More time passed and everytime he called I cringed that this might be the time the phone died. I was rushing around, phone to ear, still trying to find an “in.” Finally, on the third call he said he was just a few blocks away and coming toward me fast. The group that had been at Union Square had decided to come back to the heart of the protest. I started running.

The advance of the cellphone at such a moment is so funny to me. The frantic text messages, the shouting your position to your friend on the other end. It’s a tactical weapon of sorts. People were organizing, and organizing well, by use of their cellphones. And now, in a time when it would have been IMPOSSIBLE to find Adam in this cornucopia of human life, we were zeroing in on each other.

Somewhere about 35th and 8th avenue (really guessing at this point), I saw his waving hand. Boy, was I relieved. Walking up to him, I saw he had a long sticker stretched across his chest declaring, “Fuck the Republican Party!” I thought he looked pretty handsome at that moment.

We spent the next hour or so walking closer and closer to the convention, shouting out slogans like “Tell me what democracy looks like – this is what democracy looks like!” That was my favorite one. I felt pumped. I felt happy. I was glad I was there. I was hoping that somewhere inside his comfortable world, that Bush knew we were here and what we had to say.

After some time, things started to get tense as we strained up against the barricades. There was a band marching with us that banged drums and blew horns in such a way that you felt you were rising right up off the ground. You wanted to show louder louder louder as they pounded away.

Then there were murmurs throughout the crowd as it seemed the “protesters negotiator” was discussing things with the police. At a certain time (I believe it was 11:30pm), the presence of the protesters would be a violation of war, since they were blocking the street, playing music, and making noise. “Anyone inside the barricades when it hits 11:30pm are going to get arrested” it was warned. Adam and I were deep within the barricades but could also easily escape at that moment if we needed to. We pondered our options. It was true that the police seemed to be gathering around the barricades, but arrest us, now? It didn’t seem possible. I certainly didn’t want to get arrested, that was for sure. I couldn’t post bail and I had to go to work too. People began to sit down in the street and were encouraging others to do the same. Oh well. We sat.

As 11:30 came, I looked around anxiously, but it had become clear that there wasn’t going to be any of the mass arrests as there had been before where police had just started grabbing people at random and throwing them into police trucks. Sitting there, finally having a rest, we continued to chant and shout out.

But the numbers had thinned. Many people, frightened by the threat of arrest, had high-tailed it out of there. I had mixed feelings. I could understand wanting to get the hell outta Dodge when the possibility of jail looms, but I also thought that if you had come down to protest, well, this was it. This was what it was about. I guess, how much does it matter to you? As I was to find out soon, I had my own threshold.

Time passed. Even the cops looked bored. It was half past midnight and all that was left were some die-hard hippies. I realized that the protest was over and it was time to go home. Of course, the die-hards weren’t having any part of that. And that’s when I lost my faith (in those who remained) and wanted to get the hell outta Dodge myself. You could tell, the die-hards wanted to get arrested. And the impression that I got was that it wasn’t an arrest for the cause, it was an arrest for themselves. A line had been crossed in my opinion. A line from being true to what you believe to the cause being about you and your image of yourself. The “street cred” you’d gain from being arrested. Your fight “against the man.” I wanted no part of these people who remained. If I had gotten arrested in the throes of the full-out protest, that would be one thing, but hanging out ‘til the wee hours of the morning practically begging a cop to haul me in seemed cheap and undignified.

Adam and I finally got up and walked away. It was late and I was tired, but I was happy that I had showed, if only briefly. And since it was Adam, and our relationship thrives on conflict instead of harmony, we made sure to have a huge, knockdown argument on the street before I descended underground to my subway. *sigh*

It's a Police State!

I hate having the Republican National Convention here. Almost everybody does. It's pretty creepy to be walking to work, to the store, etc. and see cops on every fucking corner, in every subway, on every train. They're directing traffic, they're blocking off streets, they even told me to cross the street to the other side yesterday. I guess I'm threatening. Roar!

Last night on the roof of my building (well, I'm actually moving out TODAY!), which is one of my favorite places to be, I gazed lovingly at the Empire State Building, like I always do. It was lit up in festive red, white, and blue, no coincedence. Disturbing this lovely site were a posse of helicopters, noisily encircling the ESB, and shining lights like a small sun around the city as they turned. I must be a few miles away from the building, and everytime that helicopter turned in my direction, it was like someone had just trained an interrogation light onto my face.

I watched some of the RNC, including a chunk of Arnold's groan-til=you-want-to-puke speech. How many people in this world saw Nixon on TV and were so inspired they had to be a Republican?!?!?! Clinton, JFK, even Reagan, okay! I can see them being sufficiently impressive to make you want to be like them and be in their party, but Nixon??

Then onto the joking and smirking bad-girls, the Bush twins. The "we're so cute and precious, *nudge* *wink*" speech really inspired feelings of hostility in me. Why is that everytime I see some of these Republicans speak, I get an overwhelming desire to first destroy my TV, and second open-fire on Madison Square Garden? I'm a pretty docile lass, and I can't even imagine owning a gun (what the fuck for?), but listening to some of these people and the unbelievable things they say is like some sort of psychological, hypnosis-induced homicidal tendencies switch. When Rudy Guiliani said we owed it to the victims of 9-11 to vote for Bush, I had the intense simultaneous feeling of screaming, crying, and projectile vomiting.

Then there's Laura Bush who my roommate believes is the smartest politician at the whole RNC, since she has everyone snowed over with her "I'm just a simple librarian with pure thoughts and deeds" persona. You picture her knitting in the white house while discussing how we really really really need to help "the children."

I can't stand all of this. I sometimes feel so overwhelmed (again) with that fact that there are still so many people who don't see "W" as this frightening force of destruction. Is a nice fat tax break REALLY worth fucking up the whole country over? And come on, how many people REALLY care if gays marry? How does that threaten or change YOUR life (scary, prejudiced, straight Christians) in ANY way? If Bob and Steve marry, does your own life just fall to pieces? Give me a break.

Maybe it's because I'm older, maybe because I'm more aware of politics, maybe because I really do believe in the Democratic party, but I am really afraid of Bush winning again. And at the risk of sounding like a wacko patriot, I am really afraid for my country.

Don't Touch My Bible, Gay Boy!

“The Court’s obligation is to define the liberty of all, not to mandate its own moral code.”
-- The Supreme Court, June 2003, in regards to Lawrence v. Texas


As usual with my writing, (as well as with my oil painting), I seem to ebb and flow in my enthusiasm. This makes me wonder how I could ever truly be a writer seeing as how the essays I do read about “how to write” always feature authors lamenting at how they must force themselves to sit in front of a computer, like a job, about eight hours a day and pound out something. I find that rather daunting myself. I could see myself writing a book in eight crazy, 18-hour days, then doing NOTHING for six months. That’s just the gal I am.

Well, my boy John Edwards, as of 4pm today, will be officially out of the race. SOB! My god, now we’re stuck with Kerry, who excites me about as much as my phone bill does. I will stand behind him, because of course, ABB! (Anybody But Bush!), but what a pathetic turn to politics. At least I could get behind Edwards with some genuine enthusiasm.

And, I’m stealing this off of Cheek’s website, but I found this great. Of course we’re all aware of the gay marriage controversy recently. I find myself totally mystified to the actions of others, even if supposedly, I am in the minority (though I seriously doubt this). Why not let people get married? How will it hurt a society? As Chris Rock joked, “Gay people can’t join the military or get married? Damn, who’s got it better than that?” But here’s the list that was linked off of Cheek’s site. It’s great.

I find myself not articulate enough to fight these “political” battles (which makes me nervous in wanting to write, period). It seems just human decency to let people love each other and not be bothered by others and their beliefs. I have always hated Europeans’ smugness on how liberal their societies are compared to ours. But in reality, they are right in they are way ahead of us in their acceptance of their fellow human beings. I remember a Dutch man I knew once saying to me, “We don’t care what anyone does as long as they’re not hurting anybody else.” At the time I thought it was kind of stupid. As an American, I like order and responsibility and a general lack of chaos. But now, nine years later, I am envious of such a general view. A view like that seems to extend to everything as well. That’s why you find Europeans more laid back about sexuality (nudity along with it), religion, etc. Some may argue that their benevolent attitudes are changing after their recent influx of refugees from not-so-Western-European countries, but I am optimistic those jerks are the minority.

Now let me quote The Economist, the magazine, though WAY TOO EXPENSIVE, is absolutely fantastic in its writing:

“So at last it’s official: George Bush is in favour of unequal rights, big-government intrusiveness and federal power rather than devolution to the states. That is the implication of his announcement this week that he will support efforts to pass a constitutional amendment in America banning gay marriage. Some have sought to explain this action away simply as cynical politics, an effort to motivate his core conservative supporters to turn out to vote for him in November or to put his likely “Massachusetts liberal” opponent, John Kerry, in an awkward spot. Yet to call for a constitutional amendment is such a difficult, drastic and draconian move that cynicism is too weak an explanation. No, it must be worse than that: Mr. Bush must actually believe in what he is doing.”

That man scares the shit out of me. It’s so awful to watch someone fuck up your country and then hope in vain your one vote will make a difference. Which reminds me, FUCKING NADER!!!!!!! I think that article (I don’t have the citation) was right when it pleaded with Nader NOT to run. That the Presidential race was quite a different breed last time, but this time, things are more desperate, more urgent. Nader will only be a “spoiler” (a term we hear a lot lately) and screw things up the way he did in Florida where his 97,000+ votes yanked the mere 1000 Gore would’ve needed to win. This time we MUST get rid of Bush and Nader and his “Corporations own America! (only I can save you with my revelations!)” speeches make me want to throw up my expensive $10 NYC lunch. I watched him that day on Tim Russert and felt a feeling of dread washed over me when he defiantly claimed he was running and that the rest of the world who was against this could piss off and die. “We need a third party, blah blah.” You know, it’s not that people DISagree with you Nader, it’s just that we can’t afford for you to be waving your self-righteous flag right now. You know that morning that Nader announced his run for the Presidency, the entire Bush administration were popping corks of champagne, throwing confetti, giving each other high-5’s, and screaming, “You’re fucked now, Kerry!”

We’re all fucked now.

George W. Bush in Black and White

I wonder if it’s in his voice..., but when the President “Dubya” speaks, I feel a rage build up inside me that, if I could somehow harness it in a superhero sort of way, could easily destroy a city block, like the authentic comic book version of The Incredible Hulk once did. And I find myself wondering, does he sincerely believe what he’s saying, or is he aware that he’s just up there spewing lies like projectile vomit? He MUST know, because if he doesn’t, he’s got denial on level with O.J. Simpson.

George W. Bush is the first time in my life where a President has actually frightened me. I’m sure if I was old enough to understand (and really care), Reagan would have done just the same. But there’s this fervor in Bush, this kind of self-righteous indignation that can only be matched by religious zealotry, a la The Crusades or the Spanish Inquisition. Living abroad I came to love my country, but also became rather ashamed of its leaders. I really fear him being re-elected. I need to get a damn job so I can know when I can volunteer. I guess because I don’t want to complain about being afraid of Bush being re-elected and then doing nothing but casting my one vote for (as of this moment) John Edwards.

I miss Clinton. I really really miss Clinton. I think he was a super intelligent guy in all the right ways. He loved to bask in the limelight like a California teenage in sunlight, but any Presidential candidate who says s/he isn’t a little bit of a limelight lover is a complete and total liar, no matter how much “good” you want to do for the country. I was thinking of his Gladiator-like entrance at his last State of the Union. How he just loved speaking to everyone. I watch Dubya and I don’t see that light, I don’t hear that intelligence. He’s not angry so much as Dean is “angry” (whatever), he just seems like someone out for blood, who sees the world entirely in black and white. Dubya is the closest thing we could have to a theocracy, in my opinion. I hope that makes sense (see previous comments on Inquisition, etc.), but it’s true.

You Spin Me Round Round, Baby

I can't believe Kerry won! Who voted for him and why? I don't usually write about politics, though I always have a deep interest in it. I guess it?s because I always feel like I don?t have enough information. It?s not that I?m UNinformed or MISinformed, I?m just NOTENOUGHinformed, I guess. I have been paying attention to the Democratic race though, since I am a Democrat and like to take who I vote for seriously. I find myself shifting around though. Since I?ve only been back in the U.S. for a couple months, naturally, Dean was the first one to catch my attention. Then I watched two of the Democratic debates, and found that Gephardt and Edwards caught my attention. But the more I listened to Gephardt, the less I was interested in him. It?s funny though, when he got creamed last night at the Iowa caucus, I actually felt bad about it. REALLY bad. I can?t exactly explain why. I guess if it was up to me, people like Kerry, Dean, and Lieberman would be tossed out much sooner than Gephardt. And how about that Kucinich? He was an interesting guy! Too bad he doesn?t have a chance. There?s no chance for any strong opinions. Strong delivery? Sure. Strong ideals? Forget it. As George Bush Sr. advised George Bush Jr. on the satiric sketch on SNL, ?Slide to the middle, slide to the middle.?

There seems to be this strong dislike in America now for anyone who?s an ?old school? or ?insider? politician. Politicians make gallant claims distancing themselves from D.C., trying to claim that they?re just normal folk, aw shucks. I find this a bit strange myself. Sure, we all like the idea of ?new blood? in the political process ? hoping it will breathe new life into an already sluggish and apathetic political system, but when the older I get also, the more I want someone who knows what the fuck they?re doing. If it were ANY other profession on earth (I?m trying to think of exceptions) you would want someone with experience, contacts, savvy, and simple know-how. You wouldn?t call up a lawyer, plumber, or doctor who didn?t know what the hell s/he was doing ? someone who wanted to distance themselves from the traditional methods (with the possible exception of being into holistic/Chinese medicine, etc.). After recently leaving a job where it took me forever just to figure out how the damn system worked (and it was a helluva lot more complicated than I had ever imagined), I wonder what it would be like for a politician just entering that arena for the first time. To be fair, there is the part of me that thinks there COULD be possibilities. I often wondered back in Thailand if I hadn?t been so keen on following the culture, being respectful to the right people, knowing what I knew, if I could have just plowed ahead like a blind bull and made some more dramatic changes than I did. But I also know that in reality, it would have worked in the short-term, but that in the long-term, the powers that be (and under me) would have conspired to get such a loose cannon out of there, no matter how positive my innovations. What is the result then? Do we just keep in the old dinosaurs and hope they s/he is somehow different, despite his/her years of experience. We pray that the candidate will actually DO what was promised (how many of us actually believe that?).

I still hold a great deal of respect for Senator Russ Feingold of Wisconsin, simply because he seems to have really strong ideals and follows them. Feingold has been the single voice of protest in the Senate -- like after 9-11 when he feared that civil liberties might be rashly threatened in the chaos after the tragedy. After the dust settled, and everyone blinked, they realized that he had been the voice of reason, which is a brave thing to be with George W. Bush playing John Wayne on the tv screen.

Now, I know this isn?t always easy for Feingold or his own employees (as they pick through other offices? discarded office furniture in hopes of something ?new? or have less time off than other offices) to be so ?honest. Feingold GIVES BACK money to the government every year and won?t even accept a pencil from a constituent. The result for Feingold? He just barely won his last election, mostly because he followed his own campaign finance reform ideals and didn?t accept all that soft money, etc. etc. Bumper stickers that were practically dropped from crop dusters in the previous election were suddenly cautiously handed out (for $1). People were asked to re-use their old Feingold lawn signs if they had ?em. Commericals were fewer and farther between. In a time when money has a lot to do with how far a campaign can go, that?s tough. He made it though. And he?s facing re-election this coming November. I wish I could still vote in Wisconsin. I?d vote for him in a heartbeat.

Oh geez, I got way off on a Feingold tangent. I?m going to spend the day reading various Demo?s websites and try to get a handle on what EACH one really stands for (I?ve already started and it?s rather difficult. Spin spin spin!). Maybe I can form a more educated opinion by the end of the day. As of now, I?m going for Edwards. We?ll see.

I had CNN news on just now, which should be renamed to AWAT - "ALL WAR ALL THE TIME (WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE?). It reminds me of how we used to call the History Channel, "All Nazis All the Time." It was more funny then. Now, it's kind of weird. I guess Americans do love their wars.

What really freaked me out and caused me to write at a moment when I was going to run off to take a shower instead, was CNN showed Bush, giving one of his usual stuttering, spluttering speeches on America. And basically, I listened as he hinted that after we take care of this Iraq thing, that Syria is next! This because he knows that Syria has "chemical weapons" in their country and just "might" be making conditions to accept Saddam's cronies "if" they should cross the border.

*SCREEEEAAAAAAMM*

Syria is next? What the hell is going on? Is the entire world just a Risk(tm) game board to Bush? A woman on TV hinted that since it looks like the US won't be finding any "weapons of mass destruction" and they can just claim that they've all be scuttled off to Syria all along.

*gulp*

I have to admit that Bush scares me very much. I don't think he's maniacal, but I do find most of what he does shocking, unbelievable, and frightening. Clinton was President for eight years and never found the pressing need to go after Iraq RIGHT NOW! Like I've mentioned before, I've spent years listening to Europeans say how stupid and arrogant Americans are. I've always been so annoyed by that and defended Clinton as best I could. But now, now I feel I'm without a defense. I do love my country, but I cannot defend the actions of my government. That feels awful. .

War, What is it Good For?

I hate this war, I hate this war, I hate this war. Was this REALLY necessary? REALLY? Would Dubya place his God-fearing left hand on a stack of Bible's, raise his right hand and claim that our Lord could strike him down where he stood if he is lying (a favorite expression of my grandparents)??? Could he do it with a straight face? I have watched televised tomes of this war, despite the fact that it's only been a week. It's like watching Monday Night Football in the U.S. All the flash, graphics, and enthusiasm, yes, ENTHUSIASM for this. Though some of the enthusiasm seems to have waned since a higher majority of troops seem to be dying in "friendly fire" (hahahah what a ridiculous term!), then by Iraqi soldiers. And Dubya and that scary Rumsfeld seem indignant that the entire country didn't fall like a house of cards and the Iraqis didn't fall to their knees in adulation. Put it this way... I am no great fan of George W. Bush. I didn't vote for him, and I think he's been a fantastically flawed President (to put it diplomatically). If he was gone tomorrow, I might just throw a party here, complete with cake and confetti. And yet, I wouldn't want a massive, highly-technological force of Mongolian soldiers marching into Washington D.C., intent on murdering him and "freeing" me.

WHY WHY WHY didn't we just assassinate Hussein?? Was this SO damn impossible to do? If we hate him so much and want his "regime" to end, couldn't we have sent in some specialized spy to stab him, poison him, blow him up? Is this that naive of me to believe? Must we sacrifice probably thousands of people (on both sides), to get one man (and his sprawling family)? Are we really going to unearth the mother load of mass destruction? Is crippling the UN worth it? I volunteer as assassin. Can I get away with wearing a burka in Bagdhad? That might get me through. I could strap some explosives to my body and play the great martyr. Better me than thousands of others. Isn't that the point? No civilian casualties?