FIREBALLS AND BOLTS OF LIGHTNING

The Arab uprisings: Endgame in Tripoli – The Economist

As the autocratic dominoes/crucial western allies continue to fall, all eyes have fallen on the ‘double 6s’ that is Libya and its authoritarian ruler Qaddafi, sporting a look that would make fellow insane person Kim Jong II jealous, but who should really be swapping his military briefs for a poncho before getting skillfully disarmed by ‘The Man With No Name‘. Achieving ‘Cruella de Vil‘ degrees of derangement, Muammar “Soup Nazi” el-Qaddafi has vouched to rid his country of a population and rule only himself. The current trend in the Middle East dictates that his efforts are doomed to fail, which is why Qaddafi is resorting to unprecedented repressive means. In the absence of suitable candidates for finger-pointing other than the blatantly obvious lunatic under the pink umbrella, it seems only reasonable that the true culprits be held accountable for every innocent Libyan life lost fighting for their country’s freedom: social networking. Indeed although Qaddafi may be the only one currently able to digitally update his status (“is thinking salmon mousse for tonight’s Oscar party”?), after a sweeping victory in Egypt, it seems safe to say that Facebook and Twitter have really dropped the ball on this one. After helping coordinate protests in Cairo, spread opposition missives and, following now retired washed-up dictator Hosni Mubarak’s desperate buzzer-beating hail mary attempt of media censorship, helping journalists get the word out on daily happenings, wall posts and tweets have shown themselves powerless, unable to prevent the Libyan streets from being painted red. The death toll has reached such unattractive proportions that it has pressured even the UN Security Council to re-prioritize their respective oil interests in the region and denounce Mr. Qaddafi as something of a ‘douche bag’, further positive PR for Google. Surely ‘Androids’ and ‘YouTube’ would have the situation well under control by now.

It is rather unbecoming of the United States to consider that the country would sooner and quicker fire SCUD missiles on unsuspecting civilians in the name of spreading democracy, freedom, and finding disappearing weapons of mass destruction, than deliver a butchered people clamoring for help from a tyrant with a merciless fist. As the Middle East continues to demonstrate to the former Bush administration that they are in fact evolved enough to be masters of their own destiny, the Egyptian people accomplished what fundamentalist martyr Sayyid Qutb envisioned (albeit with a considerably larger role for Islam) and bin Laden right-hand man Ayman al-Zawahiri sought to produce for years through violent means. The future, however uncertain in years to come, is finally filled with hope, and the present inexorably beautiful following the events of the un-worthily named “18 day revolution”. However imperfect a science it is to study the butterfly effects of geopolitics, the beats of Mohammed Bouazizi‘s wings rippled throughout the world, lighting fires had that been attenuated for too long in too many arab souls. If it was its moral imperative to save the Iraqi people in the name of God, then perhaps it is now America’s subsequential duty to impose a cessation to Libyan hostilities/assist the Libyan rebels, if only because the Iraqi people, as bloody as it would assuredly have been, never got to seize their own destiny and initiate their own revolution. Memo to Baracky: silver bullet to the desert jackal’s head, “wasn’t me”  answers all ICC questions.

Note-worthy: “Mr Qaddafi, with a characteristic mix of bluntness and illogic, declared that his ideology was “theoretically” a genuine democracy, but in reality, “the strong always rule.” “I was the one who created Libya,” he is said to have declared recently, “and I will be the one to destroy it.””

IT’S TOASTED

Cigarettes in films: Smoked out – The Economist

The world was our oyster. We were appreciated. We were desired. We were indispensable to the limelight. We had airplanes set aside just for us. In restaurants, we had whole sections reserved just for us. We were accommodated everywhere we went. Others were obliged to live according to parameters we set for the world. We dictated the pace. And the reason? The reason was simple. The reason rested between our index and middle finger. In our hands we held a passport for cool. Between our fingers lied a conversation piece, a magnet for the influential and successful. Our ranks included cowboys, doctors and even Santa Claus hopped on the bandwagon. Life was comfortable at the top. Unfortunately for the most fortunate among us, all good things are doomed to a premature end.

Somewhere along the way, we became the enemy. The fact is, they turned on us, plain and simple. They attacked our reason for being. They attacked our character. The propaganda was methodical, and ruthless. Our eradication was proclaimed, suggesting we would inevitably self-destruct. As our ranks started thinning out, doctors suddenly wouldn’t come down from their moral high-horse. Cowboys could no longer afford being caught fraternizing with the likes of low-lives. Santa no longer had the ‘heart’ for us to remain friends. Just when we thought things could not get any bleaker, they sealed our fate by proclaiming our ‘habit’ was contagious. We were excommunicated from the very places that used to depend on us to define their identities. Bars, restaurants and conference rooms no longer wanted anything to do with us. The mighty had indeed fallen.

You may yet still catch a glimpse of our endangered kind. We now find refuge where we may, congregate where we are still able. Where once we ambled confidently on red carpets and elite socialite functions, we now cower like the castaways that they have forced us to become, reproach branded on our faces, on damp city sidewalks huddling for warmth, stealthily bent over the slightest crack of a window trying our best to remain concealed, or in a seedy alleyway, our frozen fingertips begging for respite, like angry hoodlums wondering when the good times shall once again be rolling. Many cast looks of disgust or even pity in our direction, and it is difficult to blame them. We are shadows of our former selves, and yet Government makes more and more money on our backs as the years pass, taxes and lobbyist bribes much obliged. One can only wonder how worse things can get. For now though, at least we still have Don Draper.

Note-worthy: “Although smokers trying to quit are advised to avoid other smokers, and to remove smoking-related paraphernalia from their homes, it might not occur to them to avoid films in which smoking is depicted.”

[UPDATE – 03/03/2011]  A Smoking Ban Goes Too Far – NYTimes – It’s getting worse!

EVERYBODY HIT THE D-E-C-K

Tucson Shooting Survivors Struggle With ‘What If?’ – NYTimes

Eleven score and…3/4 of a score more ago, the great nation known as the United States of America, which would ironically prove to be united for but a very minute portion of its history, was conceived amidst rebellious spirits, languid from persecution, and hopeful of a possible home for liberty and justice, in which both could finally end their eternal bickering and realize they were made for each other. Its constitution, or its first draft anyway, was elegantly worded and befitting of the grand project in democratic ideals that the conception of this country constituted. Granted, excerpts such as “all men are created equal” would later be scrutinized for its hypocrisy, and rectifications would soon arrive in the form of amendments to polish up the admittedly imperfect piece of legislation, but really, what finely-tuned automobile doesn’t need a few test-runs before seeing its true potential. Since its inception, there have been twenty-seven amendments, the first ten of which are referred to as the Bill Of Rights, ratified in 1791, of which the second was quick to ensure that no government would ever pass a measure that could confiscate our precious pistols and rifles, lest we be powerless in the event that our slaves refuse to tend to their chores or perhaps worse whenever the unsavory Duke of Ellington has the indecent idea of tarnishing the good name of your ‘madame’. Yes, this is America: the stars and stripes, the Bald Eagle and the right to “pack heat like the oven door.”¹ One cannot simply scrap the ideals on which a country was founded. In this sense, this nation may have already lost its heart and soul in 1924 when it provided Native Americans with the right to cast votes, actually granting them ‘human-being’ status, or perhaps we should have realized something was awry in 1974 as even Texas achieved sanity when it finally rendered illegal the “justified shooting” of an adulterating wife and her lover if they were to be caught in the act by the former or latter’s spouse. Rest assured though red, white and blue gun-nu…aficionados, you can still count on government remaining steadfast and sticking to their 18th-century ‘guns’ when it comes to regulating firearms.

It has been just about three weeks since the Tucson shooting when we were finally able to proclaim that we started the year with a bang, pun intended or not depending on your fancy of dark humor. Setting aside the drastically over-mediatized aspect of Senator Gifford’s case compared to any student’s at Virginia Tech (after all our elected officials were put into office to lead, not to die), President Obama’s plea for a civil political discourse following the tragic events, free of finger pointing and name calling was much welcomed, albeit for naught. After all was said and done and Slim Shady and Hitler both shouldered their share of responsibility for influencing the troubled mind behind this attack, the issue of actually cracking down on firearms could only be found mentioned on liberal internet forums or perhaps a lonely blog/column on the New York Times website, tumbleweed rolling past, a hot dry air blowing through. It is blasphemy in today’s political forum to question a two century-old constitutional amendment. Could it be that America tolerates these shootings because the legislation that protects gun possession places on the podium of a symbolic set of amendments? Why would we take away your Desert Eagle when it is your fundamental right as an American, clenched fist and all?

Gun lobbyists are correct, it is people who kill people. Those people just happen to use guns as a means to their ends. Regardless, if you want gun control, and can’t be bothered to wait for the Virginia-Tech inspired bill that has stalled for over three years in the dark confines of the Senate, then running for public office just got another perk, joining actual health care. They qualify for public safety. Christina-Taylor, one of the Tucson shooting victims who will never get to see double digits, did not. Perhaps the political discourse should focus on her. Wait, scratch that, let’s focus on the fact she was born on September 11, 2001, bring Islam back into the conversation and blame Iran for the whole thing. Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

Note-worthy: “Perhaps nobody asks himself more questions than Mr. Zamudio, 24, who arrived at the Safeway parking lot just as the shooting stopped, his gun tucked inside his jacket.”

1:^-Z, Jay. “Heart Of The City.” The Blueprint. New York: Roc-A-Fella Records, 2001. Vocal.

DARN TOOTIN’ AY-RABS

Islam in Tennessee: An uncivil action – The Economist

Recently filed under “What Else Is New?” and “Whoopty-damn-doo”, religious tolerance and cultural embrace are under attack in this fair nation’s Sun Belt. The state of Tennessee has inherited the war on terror, seeking to sanction a handful of Muslims, representing the Islamic Centre of Murfreesboro, who look to avoid praying five times a day on the neighborhood sidewalks and instead move into larger spaces that could potentially accommodate their newly-hired intern, brand-new espresso machine and newly converted, red, white and blue-blood local Eustice Van-Damn, quoted as “looking to bring pitchforks to the terrorist cause”.

In celebration of its distinguished diversity, Tennessee locals, otherwise known as cowboys, associated all Muslims with the notoriously fundamentalist perceptions of ‘sharia law’ at the bi-daily local country bee-bop hoedown, reaffirming their plans to “posse up” and break out the ol’ lynching ropes. Local mayor Cletus Clifton, often spotted at the local shooting range, and his wife/cousin, who goes by the single appellation ‘Bambi’,  reiterated this hillbilly thought process at the weekly “Klan meeting”, usually attended by 100% of the locals, where members voiced a longing for pre-civil war days and publicly made sweet love to their Confederate flags.

And so it was as avid wife-swappers and high school dropouts alike stormed the courthouse in earnest protest of the new mosque and community centre which they feel threaten their southern ideals, which at press time could not be located. Plaintiffs pledged their undying love for the state, before realizing they had been confusing ‘Tennessee’ with ‘Hennessy’.

When pressed on his questionable stereotyping of Southern Americans, this blogger was not available for comment.

Note-worthy: “…on the stand he admitted, “I am not an expert on sharia, but I have talked a lot about it as a threat.””

2 IN TIME OF PEACE 2 IN TIME OF WAR

Marijuana in California: An altered state – The Economist

I wanted to vote today, I did, but, it started raining all of a sudden just as I was getting ready to step outside. I really did want to vote. I mean, it’s legalizing marijuana right? The ol’ ganja, sweet Mary Jane, aunt Mary, the sinsemilla, the bambalacha. But yeah, I mean, my mom has the car and I would have to take two buses just to make it to the polling place, and by that time the line will probably be gigantic, and this Seinfeld marathon is keeping me glued to the couch, granted I have every season on DVD but it’s still pretty cool to be able to watch episode after episode without having to hit ‘next’ on the remote. So yeah, it’s a whirlwind of conflicting circumstances that has led me to being unable to vote today, even though I really wanted to. Although, I hope this doesn’t mean everyone from your waiter to your tax attorney is going to be baked. I would think if everyone were to be high it would slow the wheels of industry considerably. Maybe everyone already is. Or maybe that’s the point. Whoever is smoking will continue doing so as long as they want to anyway, so maybe legalizing it will just make the whole process of buying and selling much safer. But now that I think of it, I kind of like Tommy. I hope this wouldn’t mean he’s out of a job. He always brings the stuff to my place, always on time, always polite to my parents. Would this mean I’d actually have to go out and buy it? Maybe I could hire him or something. Must be hard labor now that I think about it. Going to and fro’, dealing with people who never want to lift a finger to buy your product even though they’ll harass you all day long until you actually pick up the phone. Maybe he would just sell something stronger. Wait does this mean they’ll be selling it in packs? Like cigarettes? And coming up with gimmicky names like ‘Jamaican Gold’ and ‘Kentucky Blue’? I wonder how they would roll them. Would they have a whole lot of people in some warehouse just rolling the day away? That could help unemployment actually. Or maybe they would invent some robot that just shoots them out like those tennis ball machines. I’d like one of those. Probably be expensive though. And what about the alcohol industry? They won’t have the monopoly over getting trashed anymore. Serves them right. They’ve been making way too much money over random hook-ups and late-night hospital visits. Time for the narcotics industry to get a piece of the pie with video game hypnosis and late night YouTube video surfing. I hear that they’re going to tax it even more than tobacco because people are used to forking up a lot of money for it anyway. I should look to get my foot in the door of this untapped corner of the market. I think there are other reasons to vote ‘yes’ to ‘ Prop 19’, other than ‘Schwarzenegger’ being against it. In the Netherlands, the legal status of weed has made it into a commonplace product no more influential than a six-pack, which also means that kids often don’t even bother to seek it out. I guess it’s also about being free, right? I mean, it’s not like alcohol is any better than pot, is it? Quite the contrary I would say. I’d wager good money on alcoholic wife-beaters heavily outnumbering the spouse-slapping potheads. Of course many could overlap. Anyway, whatever helps the Golden State out of the financial gutter is fine by me. I wish I had time to vote…

HAHA George always drops the ball.

Note-worthy: “The proposition has a chance of winning mainly because Californians have become rather relaxed about weed.”

"Just Vote No"

 

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR ME LATELY?

The Education of President Obama – NYTimes

It was a chilly autumn night and all smiles shined bright, for tonight black and white exercised their voting right to choose who would fight America’s blight. For who of all people was to assure the sequel but one of their equals, granted a suit like the former but not quite so evil. Not one could surmise or believe their eyes, between sobs and cries some looked to the skies. As everyone beamed at their TV screens, what Dr. King had foreseen was no longer a dream. And as that powerful black man waved to his fans they stood hand in hand clamoring ‘yes we can’.

One could still hear them chanting, from Middle-earth to Who-ville, the three simplest of words that would prove the most popular of slogans since “Beanz Meanz Heinz“. ‘Hope’ was no longer but a tag line or an abstract notion bearing a clichéd if not comical undertone but a feasible reality that one could witness for themselves in neighborhood bars, corner shops, restaurants, subway stops, as the fruits of an admittedly passive labor for most were finally tangible. Around the world, the mention of the United States solicited a friendly “Obama” affiliated with a thumbs-up, finally replacing the word “Bush” juxtaposed with a thumbs-down or even the occasional proverbial finger. The notion of high anticipation for a presidential election being paradoxical had proven to be only half-true, but by the time paper ballots had already been removed from their electoral urns, Mr. Obama had unfortunately already done so much for the nation that it would prove difficult for him to accomplish more during his actual tenure.

Something happened between “my fellow citizens: I stand here today humbled by the task before us” and the upcoming midterm elections. Apparently, it’s only fun to cheer for ‘Baracky‘ when he’s fighting the odds. There is no going back to the mean streets of Philly/Kenya once you’re champion. Perhaps it was the novelty of a black president which faded, but as his supporters, suddenly bored with his vibrant eloquence, saw him as just another politician in a suit who had not fulfilled his promises even though most at the outset agreed that the dire economic wounds ailing the country could not be mended so quickly, his critics, mostly over-eager Republican pundits, seized their chance to paint him as the illegitimate, black supremacist president hell-bent on spreading his brand of Marxism to a country he secretly hated, all the while conducting Islamist jihad. It is however essential to disassociate radicals, who hopefully represent a minority, from the conservative opposition as a whole. Whatever the agenda though, Republicans have suckered even a politician highly disillusioned with Washington stratagems into playing a game of “wabbit season, duck season” with them.

The first half of Obama’s term is of a discouraging nature as it demonstrates that, as willing as one may be to forgo the machinations of Washington which, by all accounts, end up hindering positive agenda rather than animating constructive debate, any member of the political elite will have to corrupt their own sense of purpose, perhaps tweak it, if they hope to remain relevant in the realm of the politically attainable. The Obama administration has been active, and results are manifest (a health care reform, cutting in half the number of wars the country is invested in, and a stimulus bill that showed ambition, if not actual results, are nothing to scoff at), and yet, whether by impatience or defiance, the horizon signals a loss of Democrat control in Congress, inexplicably making it that much harder for Obama to fulfill his agenda, one that keeps growing in scope and attracting critics’ wrath in its failures concurrently. This is also Obama’s doing though. His deadline for an Israeli-Palestinian agreement will only fan the flames when Israelis are still using their territorial counterparts as cannon fodder a year from now. As well-intentioned as it may be, he is more often than not these days the victim of his own progressive ideology.

The midterm elections will indeed change the tone in Washington, whatever the results may be, whatever roles grizzly bears and auto-eroticism opponents may play. Supporters who remained celebrating until dawn back in November of 2008 should stick around. Rocky III-VI had their high points.

Note-worthy: “Some White House aides who were ready to carve a new spot on Mount Rushmore for their boss two years ago privately concede now that he cannot be another Abraham Lincoln after all. In this environment, they have increasingly concluded, it may be that every modern president is going to be, at best, average.”

STAY-AT-HOME WAR VETS

Video Games That Bring Afghanistan Home – NYTimes

This is Razor, over, I’ve switched off my phone and locked my door so as to avoid any uninvited interruptions, over. For the next 6-8 hours, until I pass out from exhaustion or until I run out of food and soda or until I get Carpal Tunnel, I will be engaging the evil freedom-hating scum who seek the destruction of America and its righteous values, because they hate life. After impolitely turning down my mom’s offer of more dessert, I slide into the “War-Recliner” and I am suddenly immersed in patriotism and fully prepared to do battle with the help of cutting-edge technology, otherwise known as the Playstation 3 Home Entertainment System. I am dropped just outside Najaf where I will be charged with wiping out the endlessly re-generated Iraqi insurgents. I am armed with my friendly M-16 equipped with the trusty ACOG scope, an M1911 pistol, 2 frag grenades, 2 flash grenades, 2 M18A1 Claymores, an RPG-7 to wreak haphazard havoc and a butcher knife, all of which do not slow me down in the least. I advance with caution, crouching or in prone position, but before long my advanced ADD beckons me to make a run for it. I locate an enemy wandering aimlessly, line up my visor with his free-world hating face and BOOM! Head shot! I just acquired 100 points for my country. With the help of my bluetooth headset, I let the inanimate opponent know just how superior I am to him and just how inferior he is to me. I take a swig of “Sunny D”, adjust my headset and I am back on the prowl. I detect a terrorist through the second-floor window of an abandoned house. He sees me. I recalibrate my index finger around the L2 button and take 3 bullets to the heart for my foolishness…grenades are thrown with the R2 button. I intercept a communiqué from the enemy labeling me a ‘fag’ and sounding oddly British for an Iraqi. I re-materialize on the battlefield without a scratch, because I have been sent here by God. 563 kills and 345 deaths later, it is time to return to the barracks. I have done my part for my country today in resisting the hate-mongers and spreading the virtues of the West, enough for the time being at least. I must get my soldier’s rest. Besides, I get cranky if I haven’t had my 10 hours of sleep.

Video games have always been a popular target for criticism, mostly from stay-at-home moms and conservatives with too much time on their hands. The exclusion of video games in the determination of an art form based apparently solely on the audience it targets seems flimsy in its hypothesis. With technological advancements though does come a more arresting plateau of realism, and subsequently, the violent actions one “partakes” in hold more weight in today’s games. In the capitalistic corners of the world however, as the video game industry has ballooned to the point that some analysts have actually labeled it “recession-proof”, whatever is profitable supersedes all moral and ethical ambiguities. Whether video games offer a more inclusive experience and therefore a conceivably more troubling one than that of a movie is debatable, but like explicit content on a music record or offensive material in a book it really just depends on the audience and one simply cannot censor creativity based solely on the potential sensitivity of some. The vast majority have the ability to discern the imaginary from reality, even though one cannot negate our influenceable nature to the characters we encounter on paper or on the silver screen.

The scapegoat for much controversy has been the war genre of video games, supposedly because it aims to reproduce historical events over the course of which actual soldiers gave their lives. Apart from the obvious susceptibility toward the subject of the families who have lost relatives in the conflicts, it is a tasteless feature of the genre that, from the comfort of their homes, stoners and children alike are virtually re-enacting the contemporary actions of their country, razing the homes of civilians in precarious situations thousands of miles away. The Iraq War being conspicuously illegal as well as unfounded, “Operation Iraqi Freedom: The Game” probably is just salt in the wound. It is a fiscally sound industry, however, so maybe Nintendo will replace Halliburton for the next war and send the US to spread democracy in Iran in order to release the hotly anticipated “Ahmadinejad Strikes Back”.

Note-worthy: “During one of the game’s levels, as the Rangers approach the Shah-i-Kot Valley in a helicopter, one of them describes the flight’s “main course” as “all-you-can-eat Taliban” and adds, “Hope you like foreign foods.””

ET PUIS JE FUME

The retiring type – The Economist

The early morning breeze would send a chill down your spine, if the latter wasn’t already being snuggled by a fellow traveler’s bulging gut, and the inability to pinpoint who’s hand has been firmly clamped to your ass over the course of this excruciating ordeal only has you hoping it doesn’t belong to the aforementioned man/woman sporting the bountiful midsection. It is earliest morning, and all have scurried to the train stations in hopes of getting a head start on the rest of the population only to realize they didn’t have a monopoly on that idea. Far from it actually, any ill-advised, brusque movement like the re-coiffing of one’s hair on this train platform would have the unfortunate domino-effect consequence of sending another commuter tumbling onto the tracks. It is that time of the year again in France, that which brings people closer together than any other, when public-sector breadwinners unite to voice their displeasure/get a day off work. As the early-bird railway patrons despondently await the unlikely train that might decide to travel their way, and suicidal fantasizing escalates, some wonder why they didn’t stay home while others speculate as to why they still live here. But, just as knees begin to buckle and nicotine levels in the blood start to dangerously dwindle, an osmotic sound. The rails jitter, and in the foggy distance, a pair of headlights, and, admittedly foreseeable, a train. Feet begin to shuffle, eyes cast suspicious looks onto hopeful neighbors equally eager to seize their hard-earned ticket on the capital-bound transport and out of this smothering human quagmire. As the train finally commences its screeching deceleration, those fortunate/unfortunate enough to be on the edge of the platform begin to push back, threatening those behind them who would dare push forward. The train comes to a grinding halt, and its doors open, exposing only the harsh reality of cars already overflowing with people, little keen on ceding their spots. Both sides stare at each other, envy on one hand, pity on the other.

It was once again a commuter’s worst nightmare in France as union members all over the country reaffirmed their unyielding commitment to idleness. The disturbance surfaced when President Sarkozy announced his plans to raise the minimum age of retirement from 60 to 62, in order to alleviate stress on the pension system. After all, in a country where asking “what you can do for your country” rarely comes to mind, the phrase “love it or leave it” is rarely uttered, lest a mass exodus expeditiously take the road to El Dorado. Of course, one has to empathize with the average 59-year old Joe who already had his eyes set on the perfect retirement haven. It is the French way to demonstrate one’s disapproval with the system, and although such manifestations impede on the rest of the population functioning normally, not to mention much of it is political opportunism from the left, the sneering international press should understand that many simply want their destiny in their own hands. In the end though, the French never really wanted to go to war, and now, they are not really impassioned with working either. Perhaps the French are onto something. After all, if one is meant to fight for his right to work, then shouldn’t they be able to take a stand for their right to smoke a cigarette, sip on a glass of Château Latour and just take it easy?

Note-worthy: “Train drivers, teachers, post-office staff, air-traffic controllers, and other mostly public-sector workers, some wheeling children’s buggies, others banging festive drums, took part.”

CHARLIE DON’T SURF

‘The Tillman Story’ – Pat Tillman, Hero and Victim – NYTimes

There is a distinction to be made. In an epoch in which our leaders have led us astray, sending our youth to illegitimate wars where purpose can only be found in staying alive, there is a discernment to be made between wars and the people who are sent to wage them. It is a nuance often dismissed both domestically and abroad in the midst of anti-American war sentiments, an issue pertinent today in the case of the Iraq War. It was also a burden shouldered by returnees in unpopular, lamentable conflicts like the Vietnam War and the First Indochina War, where soldiers had fought in punitive conditions for a government which did not apparently value their lives enough to send them to a justified armed conflict motivated by well-intentioned virtuous ideologies, only to return home the subject of contempt and scorn by their fellow countrymen, who deemed them perpetrators of superfluous cruelty in a seemingly socio-politically unrelated world. Yet it is a frivolous rationale to condemn human beings, dropped in erratic, perilous terrain, for choices made by their superiors, elected by the people for their mental acumen and thus their decision-making prowess, or, even worse, to somehow approve of American casualties. It is equally frustrating to witness leaders send kids to a front line where they won’t be able to fight for a better world, because that battle is not in Iraq. Of course, it begs the question if it is at all conceivable to fight for a better world.

Putting any kind of assessment of its quality aside, “The Tillman Story” demonstrates how one soldier, Pat Tillman, decided to enlist shortly after the events of September 11th to “fight the good fight”, only to be betrayed by his superiors stretching all the way to the top of the political spectrum. Over the course of the documentary, righteous humility and a broad-minded tolerance of cultural and religious diversity are qualities used to define  Mr. Tillman, depicted as a soldier highly disillusioned with the legitimacy of the Iraq War, all the more disturbing when his face is dishonestly used post-mortem to evoke a modern-day Stakhanov of sorts, further impressing upon the apathetic manner in which the powers-that-be see their troops, essentially like pawns to a chess board. In what may seem like a self-evident truth, the stark reality of teenagers being cast in mature roles of realpolitik necessitating educated nerves and astute minds is one of absolute absurdity and is essentially a fictitious one. Many of these recruits aren’t old enough to grasp whether or not they are fighting for the right reasons, and some are too young to care. Or in the case of Pat Tillman, they could become victims of this unscrupulous system and have their identities violated and legacy defiled  long after having pulled their last trigger.

Note-worthy: “This war is so fucking illegal.”

– Pat Tillman’s first reaction upon arrival in Iraq, as told by squad mate Jason Parsons

 

I love the smell of napalm in the morning

 

RAPPERS REACH OUT

At Rock the Bells, Snoop and Wu-Tang Clan – NYTimes

In a consolidated community effort to readjust the bravado bar to its rightfully elevated level, gangster rappers (and Lauryn Hill) both old(er) and young united for a common cause: a better world where begins “a new age for the cop killers”, we can “smoke weed every day”, one’s only worry need only be “how many hos [next year] will I be banging”, and where “Wu-Tang Clan [still] ain’t nothing to fuck with”. The thousands in attendance were receptive, singing along to every lyric in the midst of drinking $8 Magic Hats and producing what may have seemed like an alarming cloud of polluting smoke from the mainland. The three headliners (Tribe Called Quest, Wu-Tang Clan, Snoop Dogg) each performed their classic outings in their entirety, all of which were released over a 3-week span in November of 1993, right around the time the white suburban population realized just how cool it really was to “fuck the police” and thus jumped on the bandwagon.

Demonstrating that hip-hop hasn’t produced any proper headliners since the turn of the century, it was the “old school” which managed to draw a huge crowd to Governor’s Island. It was true love for the rebel art form that attracted attention to the main stage, while the smaller-in-scope “Paid Dues” stage, where underground and semi-underground acts such as Jedi Mind Tricks all performed for the true rap aficionados, captivated a smaller yet eager mob. Misogyny and gang warfare were in the air and everyone in attendance seemed to be begging for more. After over twelve hours of non-stop concert, with sore backs, weak knees and their heads in the clouds, rap fanatics left the show knowing “the rhyme gets rougher as the rhyme goes on”, and the hour-long line for the ferry home was nothing but rough.