Absurd Spices

Fun and frustration from a gimp with an axe to grind. After all, absurdity is the spice of life. There will also be Punch and Pie

Thursday, November 17, 2005

How I Grew Up: Revolutions

Today marks the 3rd installment in my well-written, but completely irrelevant personal narrative.

Shortly after 9/11, the country was almost a utopian dream. Partisanship took a backseat for a little while as the nation mourned its losses and planned its retribution. The Legislative approved nearly whole-heartedly to go into Afghanistan and kick the living Hell out of al Qaeda and their Taliban buddies. We pursued bin Laden to Tora Bora and the proceeded to pound the hell out of the Extremist strongholds there. And as we did this, we continued to gather intelligence on World Terrorism. We, along with every goddamned country in the Western World, had agreed for some time that Hussein was a huge threat and was harboring weapons of mass destruction. The previous administration thought this as well, and spoke to it; but never took a moment’s time from using interns as humidors to do a damned thing to fix it.

My favorite Texan, however, saw this threat for what it was and started to take the steps to defuse the situation and make the Civilized World just a little safer place to live. He went to the UN first. As silly as this was considering that its membership was nearly 2/3’s despotic, dictatorial, or theocratic nations, Dubya made the effort to show that we had the interests of free and oppressed nations at heart, and were not just itching to act unilaterally. And for 8 months the UN spoke mightily but acted infinitesimally to cull this madman’s actions. 8 months of warnings that if nothing was done about his WMDs, the international community might get pissy. Kinda brings the reported satellite photos of covered truck convoys booking it to Syria into perspective. So, after trying to convince “Kickback” Kofi and the avaricious French and Russian governments, who had been salivating at the thought of the Hussein promised Iraqi Oil contracts, Bush put on his ass-kicking boots and started a ramp-up.

Suddenly, all the Dims in Dimville got antsy. Utopia went bye-bye. And, wonder of wonders, the supposedly objective MSM started to spew polemic as if they were being financed by the DNC and Soros. I was starving for news that told the whole story. News that shed light on the facts hidden by the dominant agencies. Luckily, I had Eric L. as a good friend and co-worker. Eric is a stanch Republican and abhors hypocrisy as much as I do. He is the man that pointed to news sites that shed the truth on what wasn’t being said in the MSM. The ones that would call Dims and Pubs on the carpet when it was needed. Mostly it was the Dims though, because most of their causes and arguments were ill-advised and detrimental to our health as a Nation. And I learned of all of the blatant doublespeak and groupthink that was being foisted upon the unsuspecting public. The Dims from all ranges of the spectrum cried against the liberation of Iraq and the War on Terror in general.

Rome was burning while Donkeys fiddled a tune of racial profiling, socio-economic causes, imperialism, blood for oil, and puppet governments. The MSM danced and clapped and sang to the tune. And the hoodwinked masses, duped college students and white liberals rife with non-existent, unprovoked guilt cut a fine jig and rang out the choruses to the pieces played for them. They danced all the way to the election and beyond; lost in should have, would have and all the other songs they knew so well.

And I heard the music, but I just couldn’t dance. I couldn’t get the steps right as my mind dwelled on the thousands lost in The Towers and The Pentagon. As I dwelled on the gassed Kurds, murdered Kuwaitis and dissenters, tortured soccer players who didn’t bring home the gold. Pondered the “honor killings”, the justified rapes of unveiled women, the beheadings of “infidels” and the other senseless crimes committed in religion’s name against the Jews, the Christians, The Hindus, women and homosexuals. I couldn’t sing the song, “Evil America.”.

I had died and a new person had emerged. My eyes were finally open to see the world, not as the MSM wanted me to see it, but the way it really was. I was born again as a free-thinker who saw that the Pubs had their act together, mostly; and I knew which team I was going to play for. I had had my Conservative Birth.

Thus is my story. Tomorrow, something completely different.

-Jesse W.


At 11/17/2005 11:20 AM, Blogger Chilly Bastard said...

While reading this, I couldn't help but picture you in a darkened room, stripping and cleaning a high powered rifle....:)


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