Tuesday, March 25, 2003


Raven is in fine feather this morning, chortling to himself in front of the computer screen between pecks at his hotcakes.

I am not so fine of feather. All the war news has been grinding me into chorizo.

Okay, Rave. What’s so funny?

“The Pentagon propaganda has painted the Iraqui soldiers as being ready to throw down their obsolete weapons and cover the US and British troops with flowers. Seems like the reality is different. Listen to this:

‘The captured or deserting soldiers interviewed by western journalists so far clearly do detest the Iraqi dictator but are less than overjoyed to see US and British soldiers rolling across their country. One Iraqi PoW told a New York Times reporter that President Saddam had been such a disaster for his country that he must be an American agent.’”

I think that’s called “gallows humor”. It’s amazing, though—after all the years of war and bombings and blockades the Iraquis clearly still have a sense of dignity.

“Meanwhile, on the US front, it seems people are starting to smell a rat. The CIA is still insisting that Saddam did not buy any uranium in Africa and that he’s never had any ties to Al Quaeda. They say that Bush was informed, but decided to use those lies in his speeches anyway.”

To whip up patriotic fervor, perhaps. Or to see how much obvious pap the public will swallow.

“I was reading an article a few days ago where he told a visitor to the Oval Office at the beginning of his presidency (sic) that if it had not been for the intervention of Jesus he would have been sitting in a bar in Texas instead of greeting visitors in the White House.”

Big mistake, that intervention. If he were sitting in that bar right now we might expect him to bust up a barstool—or fall off of one. He sure as hell wouldn’t be bombing Bagdad.

“Didn’t someone say the Lord works in mysterious ways....?”

Mysterious, maybe. But perverse?

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