Evil and Stupid: A Potent Combination

I wonder if this country is so jaded that, as a society, we don't even care any more what's going on in Guantanamo? The US announced today that 14 more prisoners were released, meaning over 300 people have been held there, sometimes for years, then simply released to their home countries.

Now, forgive me for applying logic to the so-called "War on Terror," but can't everyone see how awful this is? These are people who were picked up by our government, held without charges, legal representation, or trials, then suddenly released. Now, even you right-wingers must see the problem here: either they're terrorists, the "worst of the worst" as the Bush Administration said, or they're harmless and can be let go. Which is it? Were they the "worst of the worst" going in but harmless coming out? Is anyone stupid enough to really believe that, other than our President?

Isn't it far more likely that the opposite is true? If they weren't the "worst of the worst" going in, don't you think they are now? Wouldn't you be?

This whole Guantanamo mess is one of the sorriest episodes in this country's history, and it doesn't even make sense in an evil way. It's one thing to be stupid, but to be stupid and ineffective is unforgiveable, except by the people who keep voting for these guys.

The Trouble with Iraq

I'll make a deal with you. I will put right here in writing what I think the future holds in Iraq, and if I'm wrong, you write back with all the "I told you so's" you want to. Of course, it's not as if I haven't been saying this exact thing for three years, anyway.

It is not a question of if, only when, America's involvement in Iraq ends very similarly to America's involvement in Vietnam. We will, at some point, after many thousands of more deaths and many more billions of American dollars spent, declare victory and get out. In short order, Iraq will revert to its lowest common denominator, which is being controlled by an iron-fisted dictator struggling to hold together an artifically-drawn country comprised of forever-fighting factions. It doesn't matter whether this is a dictator we put in office ourselves or he's of the home-grown variety, he will be a tyrant. We will have lost much and gained nothing.

Consider the words of one of the most un-American and evil "leaders" this country has ever had, Dick Cheney, regarding terrorists: "It doesn't matter where we go. This is a global conflict. We've seen them attack in London and Madrid and Casablanca and Istanbul and Mombasa and East Africa. They've been, on a global basis, involved in this conflict. (Read the full interview transcript)
"And it will continue -- whether we complete the job or not in Iraq -- only it'll get worse. Iraq will become a safe haven for terrorists. They'll use it in order to launch attacks against our friends and allies in that part of the world."

Now, ask yourself, especially you Republicans who voted for this administration: was Iraq a threat to the US before we invaded it? As the UN said, the Bush administration knew, and events have proved repeatedly, "NO." Is it now? "YES." Was Iraq a safe haven for terrorists before we invaded it? "NO." And using Cheney's own words, if terrorists continue to attack around the world despite the illegal invasion of Iraq, then what did invading Iraq gain this country? Nothing.

Please, if you can explain to me in a logical fashion how our country gained something, other than profits for defense contractors, by invading Iraq, do so.

The invasion of Iraq was one of the worst blunders this country has made in its history, certainly in the top five. It will take at least a couple of generations to recover from it, and that's if we get out now.

An Ill-fated Family Vacation

For what I hope is your reading pleasure, I'm posting a little piece I wrote a few years ago about a family vacation gone wrong. People seemed to enjoy it.


My Trip to Alaska
By
Charles Geilich
©2002
(With Some Artistic License, But Not Much)

Day One: We get up early in Dallas to await the van, driven by Scott, to take us to the airport. We’re tired, a bit disorganized, but there is an excitement in the air. We have a along journey ahead of us, but it’s okay, because we’re going to Alaska! Scott arrives with Mary’s parents, Joe and Nell, already in the van, dawn breaks, and by candlelight we pack the horses and head for DFW Airport. Approximately at this time, seen in retrospect, a microscopic virus has been inhaled by my daughter, Catherine, and is nestling into her intestines for its own long journey.

Still Day One: After flying around the world, we arrive in beautiful Seattle, Washington, home to Seahawks, Mariners, and caffeine addicts. Catherine, the non-sleeping baby, has not slept on the plane, even as we flew the breadth of Russia.. Jack and Juliet are beginning to get a bit surly, and Joe has commented, to all passengers, about the color of the airplane (and the color of airplanes in general), the temperature, how both “Alaska” and “Alabama” are states with three “As” in their names, and different ways one can burp, even demonstrating a few. He is not satisfied with the airplane meal(s) he is given. Nell keeps smiling. I’m getting restless, as is, in retrospect, Catherine’s virus. More on that later.

Still Day One: At the Seattle airport, Mary and I get into a fistfight at the baggage claim area. The line to collect bags is ten deep, and Mary suggests that I claw my way to the front and hurl our 150-pound suitcases singly behind me as they crawl past on the conveyor belt. I demure; thus, our brawl. Seattle has 37 different airlines flying into its airport. Interestingly, every flight is numbered 1141 and they all get in at 1:22 p.m. They all use the same conveyor belt. As the travelers in front of me faint or die, I make my way to the front and collect our bags, which are able to fit onto a small armored personnel carrier brought in for the task. Well, most of them. A few camels, provided by the cruise line, await us for the trek to the ship, 123 miles away. We’re almost there now! Catherine’s virus, in retrospect, is almost hatching within her.

Still Day One: We’re on the ship! For six (or maybe 60) days, the eight of us will share quarters. That is “quarters,” not wholes. Actually, the rooms, for a ship, are quite spacious, but at no time is one far enough away from anyone else to miss the sounds of teeth gnashing or hair growing. Still, we’re together as a family, and we set sail. I wonder if those dark clouds on the horizon mean anything?

Still Day One: They do. As the captain later said when he staggered from cabin to cabin, warning everyone to get down and cover our heads, it turns out that movie about the perfect storm was getting a sequel: the Even More Perfect Storm. Remember the beginning of Gilligan’s Island? We were the S.S. Minnow, but our trip was a little rougher. We had already gone to bed when we noticed the ceiling below our feet, and I flicked my hand out in time to catch Catherine as she glided past like Toto during the Wizard of Oz tornado. As the night proceeded, our traveling party became sick, one by one, as the ship crested each wave, on the perpendicular, then settled again with a thunderous smack into the resulting trough, over and over and over. With time, one could identify a particular retching sound with a particular relative, or crew member. Catherine threw up, too, but the virus, in retrospect, held on.

Day Two: At sea. No land, no hope. Seas still rough. Ill. Trips to the infirmary, where the doctor himself was just being zipped into a body bag upon our first arrival. Not good. Suppositories to stop the nausea. Not good. Best not to breathe. Idea of arriving in Juneau tantalizing. Was that an iceberg? Even poor Catherine retching, looking confused, wondering why her parents hate her so much. Seasick? Or something else?

Day Three: Awaken to quiet, still waters, pulling into Juneau. Is that you, God? Thank you, thank you, thank you. Yes, it’s raining and cold in Juneau, but it’s still land. None of us can stand easily, much less walk, but we must escape the ship, even for a little while. We can’t wait for the gangplank to be lowered, we jump overboard. I drop the children down to Mary on shore before I hurl myself over the railing. Juneau is cold, damp, ugly, and the most welcome sight I’ve ever seen. I kiss the slushy ground. We arrange a tour of Mendenhall Glacier, but just before we start off, the rain increases in volume, and I realize it would not be a good idea to keep Catherine out in it. So I pack my family off on their dogsleds with some pemican and whale meat for their trip to the glacier, and I take Catherine back aboard the ship, which is roomier now that so many of the passengers and crew were lost at sea on the way up.

Still Day Three: Catherine and I play peacefully in the cabin for an hour or so, and I ask her, “Hey, sweetie, now that we’re feeling better, would you like to go up to the Lido deck and get something to eat? What do you say, little girl?” Catherine gave me a beatific smile and then, and this really happened, emptied the contents of her stomach, intestines, liver, spleen and, I believe, her kidneys, in an arc that, thankfully, passed over my head and hit the wall five feet behind me, leaving a small dent before gravity slowly pulled it all, well, most of it, to the floor. Then she did it again. And again. It seemed to surprise her each time as much as me. In all, she threw up twice her body weight in one hour. The Virus had arrived.

Day Four: Mary became ill as The Virus took up residence in her, first entering through her eyeballs, we think. She prayed for death. I caught her in the bathroom with a pistol, trying to insert bullets. I would later come to regret throwing it overboard when I became ill. Mary, Catherine, and I lay in bed, our skin sagging about us, as the ship set sail for a town that is either called Sitka or Sick-a, I couldn’t really hear. The others pitied us and were glad it wasn’t them.

Day Five: The Virus took the rest of our party. As Mary, Catherine, and I found the strength to move our eyelids, Juliet, Jack, and Nell succumbed to the demon bug one at a time, their torment perhaps made worse because of their knowledge of what lay ahead. Meanwhile, I found the strength to go the ship’s casino, where I lost our family’s savings at a machine labeled “Win!Win!Win!” I knew it didn’t matter, because none of us would make it out of this alive, anyway. By the way, the only members of our party who did not become ill were Joe and Jennifer, the children’s cousin from California. By not eating, and by breathing only shallowly, they cleverly managed to fall into comas early on, thus achieving a sort of suspended animation that saved them much grief.

Day Six: This Voyage of the Damned crossed the River Styx and tied up at Ketchikan, which is, I believe, the home of Ketchup (not catsup). Local authorities left food for us on a dingy but wouldn’t let us off the ship for fear of the plague. All in all, they were very kind.

Day Thirty-Five: Almost over. We reach Victoria, British Columbia, and, finally, all is well. Those of us who are still ambulatory leave the ship for our allotted time in Victoria, the nicest port on the tour. The fifteen minutes passed quickly. Having lost all our money at the casino, we traded our clothes and some fixtures pried loose from the ship for food and drink. We really liked Victoria.

Day Fifty-Five: Praise Poseidon, we reach Seattle again. And the sun is even shining. Truly, this is rebirth. Natives, having heard of our plight, greet us on shore with warm blankets and paper cups (with cardboard sleeves) of Starbucks coffee. They give each of us a free laptop and take us to the airport. We love them.

Day Seventy: We reach DFW Airport, home again. Our 15-month-old child can now fit into her 6-month outfits again, and poor Jack has lost his teeth to the scurvy, but by damn, we’re home. If Juliet will take in some washing from the neighbors and Mary and I can share one hospital bed while we recover, we think we can horde enough money to save our house from foreclosure and get Joe and Jennifer revived. And we can’t wait until our next family vacation.


The End

(Well, this is how I remember it)

A Kodak Moment

Wasn't it nice that our military took the time to crop, matte and frame the photo of al-Zarqawi's corpse before parading it in front of the press? Did anyone other than me think that was odd?

Don't get me wrong. If this man did all the evil things attributed to him, he had a violent death coming to him. It just seemed strange to me that time was taken to prepare and frame the picture, like some soldier rushed the photo to the Three Day Framing shop in Baghdad and paid extra for quick delivery. Perhaps a brushed steel frame would have set off the pallor of al-Zarqawi's skin better, but, still, it wasn't a bad job.

Must be Election Time

If Senate Republicans are talking about gay marriage, it must mean we're closing in on another election. Have you ever noticed how issues like immigration reform and gay marriage only come up at election time? As soon as the election in question is over, you don't hear about the topic again.

Why is that? I think it's because even the most crass politician knows this country, when forced to acknowledge the truth, is more tolerant than the religious right. What the politicians are doing is pandering to the most base, intolerant, small-minded element of their electorate. Why do they do it? Because it works.

Reagan did this in the 80s, and W's people have learned well. Instead of focusing on the ill-advised, and out-of-control, war in Iraq, or global warming, or any of the other legitimate issues this country faces, why not get the Bible-thumpers (who mostly are as ignorant of their own sacred text as they are about politics, sexuality, and history) all worked up about boys kissing, as Bill Maher puts it so succintly.

I never cease to be amazed at how people allow themselves to be used over and over like this. It will keep happening until it doesn't work any more.