I was reading an opinion piece in the New York Times by Thomas L. Friedman today. You can’t forget the “L”. In previous centuries, he would have undoubtedly been “T.L. Friedman”, but with the onrush of women into the workplace, men are — secretly — newly hurried to self-identify as “men”, not “women”. J.K. Rowling’s little secret may not have worked as successfully as her publishers had hoped (there is no “K” in her name).
At any rate, Friedman wrote about the assassination of Iran’s top general by America. I find the whole assassination business, not to mention one of the two Desert Storm wars, puzzling. First of all, isn’t it just plain murder? Second of all, isn’t America a nice-pansy-nicey-playey place? Planting a kind of ice pick down someone’s throat isn’t very good play, it’s kind of Italian Mafiaish.
The first Desert Storm made sense, of a kind. Saddam Hussein was given a (mistaken) permission by (King) America to take Kuwait. The American female ambassador to Iraq at the time goofed, apparently, by saying:
We have no opinion on your Arab-Arab conflicts, such as your dispute with Kuwait. Secretary Baker has directed me to emphasize the instruction, first given to Iraq in the 1960s, that the Kuwait issue is not associated with America. – April Glaspie
Later times she said “no one could have prevented the invasion”. Yet everyone around the world walks on tippy-toes where America is concerned. Thomas Friedman must have had a piece on the matter. I’ll search the Net now and see what comes up.
Nothing comes up immediately. A piece at the Hudson Institute (by a chick, obvious garbage), Friedman on the Charlie Rose show on TV, and about 46,000,000 other hits.
*Leans a long index finger against a chin*
These are the people who run the world and Live the Life. While I sleep in the woods, or by the Miami causeway, they check into the best, most comfortable hotels in the world. Sometimes Four Seasons, sometimes better — if there is a better one local. They generally keep within their Expense Accounts if their government is non-corrupt. But they are fat and soft.
I am living in a good hotel now, generally, a converted-for-residences place in a superb location in Vancouver that can’t be beat. But it was only luck of a kind that got me here.
If they’re thin, they have a Trainer.
If their kids are safe, they live in the Best Neighborhoods with the Premier Security.
If their friends don’t gossip, they don’t do so because they fear for their friendship.
America is slices of power. The Special Forces is near the top of the military knife edge of the cake. The voting apparatus is at the higher level, levitating to the top and then back down, switching places with the corporations. The Corporate World bows down to the liberal ideals spread by the Galaxy Judge of Television. It’s all very intricate. But it holds like concrete boots around the feet of a Mafia victim about to go for a long dive . . . a very long dive.
The truth is, I’m ecstatic about this situation. Vulnerabilities abound, like great pink rabbits easily seen in the forest. *flexing right foot back and forward* I don’t care about anything else. Oh, yeah, important update: I’m gonna dial down majorly on my drinking of Coke. I think I’ll switch to water and Raspberry Tea. Do you have dream of tea bottles levitating in front of you? I would, if it changed the situation I live in.