I’m sitting here, barely watching pointless TV, warm in the heated still ambience of my mid-winter apartment. I can’t decide if I should have another glass of Pepsi or get back on the water. I want to have a cigarette but getting out of my seat to go to the window is a big step. It’s late, and I’ll be sleeping softly soundly within a few hours.
It’s the middle of the desert day in warland. Soldiers, some who speak English, some Arabic, are losing their limbs, their lives. Some are just losing that luster to their eyes that humans are almost always born with. That optimism that we’re good people, that gets lost when you watch friends die. Horrible. Dead.
I can’t understand this whole war idea. So pointless, so childish, so fucking weak.
As human being boys, we learn at an early age that to get something you want, you punch it. Like a girl in your kindergarten class? Pinch her. Now she’s paying attention. After school fights are great entertainment for all but the loser. Even into college we brawl drunken over getting our way or defending our pride. But as we graduate youth and find ourselves adapting to a society, growing wiser, learning how to get on with life rather than trying to push through it, we get in less fights. Sure, there’s always the occasional occurence in a man’s older years, or those few guys who never get tired of calling someone a pencil neck and getting silly with scrapping, but for the most part, we all just chill out.
Well, everyone but our Presidents. These should be some of the greatest negotiators in the world, you know, what with them supposedly leading the free portion of it and all.
I guess nothing says negotiatory wisdom like exploding bombs at eachother.
Up Next: The Adventures of Click and Clack?