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Tuesday, Mar. 09, 2004 / 7:55 p.m. ~Look What We've Done~ I was thinking about what I wanted to write, I was emotional watching the CBS Evening News, I hated the ads for adult diapers and prescription drugs, laxatives, Viagra, like it's all geared toward 80 year old men. Is that who sits and watches Dan Rather at 6:30 every night? What about me? Ol' Dan in Baghdad, looking like he's got some sun on his face, or someone sand blasted him, one or the other, and he's waxing on about how wonderful the Iraqi people are, showing the little heartwarming story of the courageous farm girl who lost 15 members of her family to this INVASION and subsequent OCCUPATION of her country, focusing on the simply wonderful US Military machine and how they brought her to D.C. to give her the appropriate physical therapy, on account of she's now paralyzed. And oh how sweet she is, and how she's the darling of the army hospital, and isn't she cute and 13, and can you believe she's one of 17 children? And she says, through an interpreter, that she used to milk the cows and gather the eggs, or some such, and now she's in a fucking wheelchair, and oh, Dan, aren't the Iraqis just extra fucking special?! And I started to cry, I did, a mouthful of crappy frozen dinner faux meatloaf melting saltily in my mouth, thinking that it's not meatloaf, this isn't meatloaf, it's cube steak, it's like Salisbury steak, and it's so salty it's horrible, and now I'm so full, and we suck, we just suck, look what we did to Iraq! The cradle of civilization, the home of major antiquities relating to the dawn of fucking man, the museum pieces squandered and ruined, the people killed, their livelihoods destroyed, and you're talking about us rebuilding their healthcare system when we don't have healthcare coverage here? I don't have health insurance! Do you know how much my company wants me to pay for it? Do you know how much money I make? Do you know I live on my own and pay for my lifestyle all by myself? And you're flying little 13 year old girls to military hospitals in D.C. to receive the best healthcare available, why? Why?? Do you ask yourself why? BECAUSE IT LOOKS SO GOOD ON THE NIGHTLY NEWS! That's why. Look what we did. Look what we did, how many people have we killed? Scroll down to the links at the bottom of this page, click on some, read the statistics, how many have we killed? How much money have we spent? And we had ONE Democratic Presidential Candidate who wanted to address it, all of this, and he was laughed out of the election, blackballed by the media. Because no one wants to know. Put your damned blinders on, watch your fucking "American Idol", wonder who Britney is shagging now, and is Martha Stewart going to think it's a 'good thing' to be in fucking prison?, and did Michael really abuse the little boy?, and what about Janet's nipple anyway?, but do you know what we did to Iraq? Do you even care? It's so far away, isn't it? You can't find it on the map, can you? Aw, but look at that little 13 year old girl and how we're helping her, because who cares about the family she lost, there were too many anyway, right?, and now she can be AMERICAN, maybe, and be happy. She can be our shining star, our Iraqi Jessica Lynch, and she can make us feel good about this WAR, right? Then we can get back to our TVs an forget again. Because we really just don't want to know. So, there I sat, and I began to cry, and I said to myself, "Look what we've done! We are so horrible!", and I hated Dan Rather and the United States of AmeriKKKa, and I hated everyone who doesn't care, and I hated the ads for Wal Mart and adult diapers and drugs, drugs, drugs, drugs that the target audience can't even fucking afford on their fucking Medicare and measly piddly Social Security. Fuck this country. Yes, I would like to move, I would. Don't tell me I should, because if I could afford it I just might be on my way out of here. And you know Kerry won't beat Bush, fuck no. He does not have what it takes to woo the idiots that subscribe to the blinders wearing deaf ears turned to the real ISSUES mentality of the people who make up this country. They want status quo, they don't care investigations into 9/11, they don't want to think that Bush lied through his beady eyed smiles, right to our faces, boldfaced lies, no, what's on TV? How's Janet's boob now? What about Martha?? Oh, the state wants to murder the D.C. sniper, because as we know, state sanctioned murder is always okay. And, on top of all of this, I finally call the artist back, the painter, the self-absorbed man who supposedly wants to 'date' me, who wants me to be his 'girlfriend', who constantly calls me 'sweetie' and 'honey' in between putting me on hold, the one who's never met me, won't actually make a real plan to meet me, but wants to call me and leave me messages, respond to my emails with one sentence replies, who asks questions and never listens to my answers, who alternates with compliments and insincere flattery that makes my bullshit detector sound loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and would rather clean his apartment than actually meet me in person. I return his calls, his numerous calls and start to tell him all of this, my anger at the way we invaded and occupied Iraq, slaughtered the people there, ruined their infrastructure, and are now trying to mold them in our sick image, assume possession of their resources, and he's nasty and interrupts, asks what my favorite foods are, and interrupts, asks how I can be political and shop at Wal Mart, and interrupts my answer, and wants to know what I wrote about Spalding Gray yesterday and laughs that the man is dead, laughs at the fact that he's been dead all this time, and flippantly says he enjoyed his movies. No, no, no, no, no, why am I giving him any attention at all? I'm angry now, but I'm letting it out, I'm releasing steam, and it was a long day of tedious comparisons and entering data, and I need a long break, I need to relax, and the spontaneous empathy with the people of Iraq deserved respect, not laughter and derision. I need understanding and attention, not interruptions and sarcasm. And he asks me can't I be soft, SOFT?! Oh, wrong person, wrong, so very wrong. I will tear you apart. I wrote him a long email, similar to this rant here, now, and that may be that. I'm so tired of his games. Now? I'm going to drink a glass of wine, watch a little TV and go to bed. There's really nothing more I can do here, not today. Cost of the War in Iraq
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