Hi Doug,
I just finished listening to GWB on the radio, and listened to him last night also. I just want to scream.
Pure pablum. I am so sick of it.
I am so sick of carefully crafted speeches, every syllable and gesture worked out in meticulous detail by gaggles of hand-wringing political advisers, who's primary concern is, "How will this look? How will this sound? What will people think? How can we cast the president in the most favorable political light we can? He's gotta talk, but how can we make sure the president doesn't say anything?" As soon as I saw GWB in the Oval Office at the very beginning of his speech, hands folded, makeup on, hair in place, look into the camera with a practiced look of concern, and unfold his hands at the "Amuricun paple" in an obviously contrived gesture..... I could only wonder what machines told him to do that---and why he ever listened to them.
Regardless of the pablum, our very foundations were shaken yesterday, tens of thousands of innocent men, women and children lost their lives in the most horrific fashion imaginable. No Hollywood movie scripting the events of yesterday would have been believable. Yet it happened. But one institution, it is clear, was unshaken: the carefully choreographed political skit starring what we ridiculously call "leaders."
Leadership in America has all the flamboyance of the stall tactic in basketball. A quarterback keeper up the middle every play, two boring yards and a predictable cloud of dust. Whatever happened to flesh and blood men, who looked stupid sometimes, pissed people off---but did what their guts---not some worry-wart advisers---told them to, regardless of the personal or political consequences?
At some point---and if yesterday wasn't that point, I don't know what is---I think circumstances and events must impel you to throw caution to the winds, if you're human, and real, and have a heart and a mind and a soul and you bleed real blood and cry real tears. I didn't see one on TV last night. I didn't hear one on the radio this morning.
Whatever happened to guys that weren't afraid to react? With real emotion? With real guts? And didn't give a damn about how it sounded? Guys who gave responses like
"Nuts!"
or
"Damn the torpedoes!"
or
"Mr. Kruschev, either you get your missles out, or we will!"
or
"We shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields, and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender!"
or
"Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country."
or
"I would say to the House, as I said to those who have joined this government: I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat."
or
...a date which will live in infamy...."
Whatever happened to guys that were willing to stand up for something, anything, and express that with words that sent chills up your spine and resonated with some poorly defined but nonetheless real core of your being?
Well, to me this also is a date which will live in infamy. I am greatly saddened, but now not just because of the horror of what was done, but the horror of what we have become. We have capitulated to image and effect. Even in the most extreme circumstances, image and effect was not even close to being threatened.
Here's what my speech would have been to the Amuricun paple:
We are throwing everything we can into helping those in need of any kind of help. We are reasonably convinced who was responsible for this terrible act. We will stop them from ever doing so again, and we will scream from the hilltops that if anybody anywhere anytime anyhow commits such acts or threatens to, we will take whatever steps are necessary to stop them. Consequences to such actions will be swift and certain. There will be no talking about it. There will be no international discussions or trials. We don't give a damn about international opinion in such matters. We will protect Americans, and if force is required to do so, then it shall be force. Overwhelming force.
I just got off the phone to all major world leaders, particularly Arab leaders. I did the talking. I didn't ask questions or solicit opinions or wheedle or cajole or curry favors of any kind. I told them I didn't give a damn what they thought about what I was going to do. Scream and protest all you like, it won't change what I'm going to do. Then I called that bastard who calls himself the president of Afghanistan. I told him in three days Afghanistan would be living in the Stone Age. The only thing that could prevent that from happening is if he handed over the body of Bin Laden and all his sidekicks in identifiable form, and destroyed their operations. I told him finding him is not my problem. It is yours. If you can't or won't find him, either way---hope you enjoy living in the Stone Age. Then I hung up on the son of a bitch.
I've asked that the word be spread to the Afghan people about what is to transpire in three days. They can evacuate, pressure their leaders, cough up Bin Laden, tell us what we need to know to find him, whatever they like. We have nothing against innocent people. But Americans will be protected, no matter what the cost. You can whine all you like, but I'm not listening.
Think what you like. Love me, hate me, vote me out of office, assasinate me, canonize me saint, whatever. But this is what I'm going to do.
So what will I do now?
I just told my job I won't be there. I'm driving 90 miles to see my son, who I couldn't reach yesterday. You see, I remember very clearly being 8 years old, and thinking the world was going to end any minute with nuclear holocaust over something having to do with missles in Cuba and some bad guy in Russia named Kruschev. I was making plans to dig a big, deep hole in the backyard, right next to the banana tree, and hide, and hope I survived the nuclear attack.
So I'm going to pull him out of class, walk with him, talk with him, take him in my arms and hug him. Tell him---yes, with a good dose of pablum, since he's only 7---that everything's okay, there's no danger, that stuff happened a long, long way away, I will make sure he's safe, that some mixed-up people did some things that were very, very wrong. I won't tell him what's really bothering me about this whole thing......
But I pray that someday he will know just the same. I pray that he grows up knowing the difference between what is real, and what is fantasy. And lives and breathes and bleeds and cries and loves and laughs accordingly. And listens to his heart, and doesn't care about the personal consequences of doing the right thing just because it is right.
T |
