Boyles the Destroyer

One wonders whether the Swift radio ads might prompt the anti-immigration loonies - Tom Tancredo, Peter Boyles, Lou Dobbs, Pat Buchanan, etc., etc., etc... - to finally sniff the coffee? Now that they've chased off the Mexicans, who will butcher the livestock, pick the lettuce, harvest the potatoes, etc., etc., etc...? In all their windy bloviations, Boyles, et al. failed to disclose their intent to drive American citizens down to a point of desperation where they'd be thankful to spend 40+ hours every week toiling in slaughterhouses.

When will we fine tune our hearing to the point of recognizing in Peter Boyles the dulcet tones of the Destroyer? He will, capriciously, turn the Arkansas Valley into a wasteland if he gets his way. If he is so sure that people like my bone idle Irish-American neighbor will gleefully pick the produce, he should start pledging his acolytes now for next year's harvest and take them down to Alamosa in September. That will be worth a few illuminating giggles.

Sports under Moral Hazard

Every March, my insurance agent runs a pool for the NCAA basketball tournament. I always submit two brackets. With the first, I submit a risk-averse "control" bracket, selecting favorites all the way through the tournament. With the second, I let fancy roam, picking several big upsets along the way. Last year, I was in the money with my "control" bracket. There weren't any real upsets. The sports pundits praised the omniscience of the Selection Committee. I should praise them, also. After all, craven obedience to their seedings put money in my pocket. Who cares if the tournament was less memorable than in years past?

The Selection Committee, last year, chose seventh and eight place schools from the big conferences over second and third place schools from the mid-majors. Thus, there were fewer chances that a little-known school might spring a shocking upset.

Hmmm! I wonder whether money played any part in that preference for number 7 from a major over a number 2 from a mid-major conference? How populous is the alumni base for the University of Illinois compared to Siena College? How widespread, geographically, are those two alumni bases? Which school is more likely to draw a crowd of partisans to Boise, Idaho in early March? Hmmm! Who do you suppose the merchants of Boise would rather see in the tournament - Illinois or Siena College? Far be it from me to suggest that the Selection Committee's pursuit of cold hard cash risks destroying the charm of the tournament with all those Davids beating Goliaths.

College football, of course, is an even bigger mess. In basketball, at least there is a tournament. The championship is earned over the course of a month. College football must revolutionize itself to produce a credible champion. Here is my suggestion:

First of all, the illustrious ones who precipitate this revolution must remember that colleges are supposed to educate young adults. Sometimes, providing an education is inconsistent with maximizing profits. The illustrious ones - the philosopher-kings of college football will have to settle for reasonable profits over maximum profits.

The Ivy League has it just about right. Nine regular season games is plenty for the regular season. These football players are supposed to be students first. The season should begin on the Saturday following Labor Day. All regular season games should be concluded the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the traditional day of the Army-Navy game. Conference champions should be decided that same Saturday. The following Saturday, a tournament of no more than 16 teams would commence. The 16 teams would be the nine conference champions (Big East, Big Ten, ACC, SEC, Big 12, Pac 10, WAC, MAC, and Mountain West) plus seven at-large bids. The at-large bids should be picked in order from the final poll rankings, skipping third place teams from conferences. Seedings in the tournament should be determined from the poll rankings. The national championship would be played on the first Saturday in January. The site for that game would alternate between Pasadena, New Orleans, Miami, and Glendale, Arizona. The teams in the Championship would wind up playing 13 games. That's plenty.

A Wise, Outspoken Marine

FIASCO, by Thomas Ricks, introduced me to Marine Corps General James Mattis, esteemed by his peers as the finest soldier our country has produced since the Korean War. The portrait of the politically incorrect General Mattis, drawn by Ricks, brought to mind one of my heroes, Joseph W. Stilwell, esteemed by his contemporaries as "the fightingest General in the United States Army."

General Stilwell often exasperated his civilian overlords with his caustic remarks. Frequently, he was cautioned to to stop referring to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, El Supremo in China, as "the Peanut." Finally, the G-mo wore out FDR's patience. A firm message (a "hot bundle of paprika," according to Stilwell) was dispatched to the G-mo insisting he implement reforms to "increase the combat efficiency of the Chinese Army." General Stilwell memorialized the event with a poem:

I've waited long for vengeance, at last I've had my chance.
I've looked the Peanut in the eye and kicked him in the pants.
The old harpoon was ready, with aim and timing true,
I sank it to the handle and stung him through and through.
The little bastard shivered and lost the power of speech.
His face turned green and quivered as he struggled not to screech.
For all my weary battles, for all my hours of woe,
At last I've had my innings and laid the Peanut low.
I know I've still to suffer and run a weary race,
But, Oh! The blessed pleasure, I've wrecked the Peanut's face.

General Mattis looks like General Stilwell. And he sounds like him, too. The protocol boys had to do back flips trying to anesthecize these remarks in San Diego in February 2005.

It's fun to shoot people. Actually, it's a lot of fun to fight. I like brawling. You go into Afghanistan, you got guys who slap women around for five years because they don't wear a veil. You know, guys like that ain't got no manhood anyway. So it's a hell of a lot of fun to shoot them.

About the fighting in Iraq, General Mattis said it is "almost embarrassing intellectually." Then, he warned,

Don't patronize this enemy. They mean business. They mean every word they say. Don't imagine an enemy somewhere in the future, and you're going to transform so you can fight him. They're killing us now. Their will is not broken. They mean it.

Naturally, the press focused on the colorful bellicosity and political INcorrectness of the "fun to shoot people" part of this quote. The underlying wisdom and criticism of the Bush blood for oil policy went by unnoticed.

The only objective worth achieving in this confrontation with Islamic Fundamentalism is the end of purdah, getting women out into the sunshine. So far, that aspiration, dressed up as a War for Democracy, has been swallowed up in the pretext for an oil grab. Or, it has been lost sight of in a shallow game of opportunism.
During the Soviet regime in Afghanistan, 55% of government employees were women. Unfortunately, for those semi-emancipated women, we saw an opportunity to use the Islamic Fundamentalist rebels to get even with the Russians for their meddling in Vietnam. Our clients won - and the Berlin Wall came crashing down on the women of Afghanistan. They were pink-slipped, sent home and forced back behind the Veil. Those who persisted in modern ways were marched to the new soccer stadium and executed in front of 30,000 cheering men.

We had a chance to redeem ourselves for this crime against the women of Afghanistan. Instead, we left the job half-finished and rushed off to invade Iraq, perhaps the most secular country in the Middle East. Our Saudi masters were calling.

Iraq, like Afghanistan (and Ba'athist Syria) had made great strides bringing women out from behind the Veil. Our ally, Saudi Arabia, on the other hand, was still punishing the women, who, in 1990, had gone out for a drive unescorted.

(In addition, Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. Osama bin Laden, penniless after his alms-giving mission to the Sudan, relied on a network of Saudi and Gulf States donors to finance al Qaeda.)

We chose to back away from an unfinished mission of redemption in Afghanistan in order to bring down the most secular country in the Middle East, adding the women of Iraq and Saudi Arabia to the list of those betrayed. How pathetic!

The remarks of General Mattis bring into sharp relief the essence of this struggle. The enemy wants the Veil. We don't. That is a fight worth having.

(There is more along these lines in my essays A WINNABLE WAR, THE REAGAN LEGACY, THE FOUR BASIC STRATEGIC CHOICES, and RUMFOORD'S POCKET HISTORY OF IRAQ.)

Writings

I should post a resume for my creative works.

SCREENPLAYS

Vinegar Joe

This dramatizes one of the great adventure stories of World War II. In 1942, U.S. Army General Joseph W. Stilwell was sent to China to "increase the combat efficiency of the Chinese Army." The mission turned sour, failing to turn the tide of the Japanese onslaught in Burma. Stilwell's headquarters command was forced to escape through the worst malarial district in the world into British India. Stilwell was the only person to lead a group out with no fatalities. On other trails, 30,000 people perished.

The Peanut and I

A sequel to Vinegar Joe, taking the story through the Cairo Conference of December 1943. General Stilwell, the fightingest General in the United States Army, was placed in a very sensitive political mission. This script dramatizes all the obstacles to the great General's fulfillment of his mission.

* I plan at least two more scripts dramatizing the Stilwell saga.

Lyon of Missouri

This tells the story of Nathaniel Lyon, a General who saved Missouri for the Union in the early months of the war. Lyon was the first Union hero of the war. Had he survived the Battle of Wilson Creek, he might have been lifted up to command the Army of the Potomac rather than McClellan. This might have shortened the war by two years. The designers of the Civil War game rate Lyon on a par with Stonewall Jackson, in terms of the significance of their deaths.

Lyon was an extraordinary character. The first five pages of this script will make the best actors drool for the part.

Cycling to Paradise

This romantic comedy tells the story of a group of rank amateurs in Denver trying to produce a movie. It is set around my job as a school bus driver.

Rumsfeld's Folly

For this script, I simply imposed a linear structure on Kurt Vonnegut's, The Sirens of Titan, and substituted luminaries of the Bush Administration: i.e. Noel Constant = Bush, Sr.; Malachi Constant = Bush, Jr.; Salo, the cloven-hoofed Tralfamadorian = Cheney; etc.

You can get an idea by scrolling down to the entry "Rumfoord's Pocket History..."

At Summer Solstice with the Ancient Ones

The plot line for A Midsummer Night's Dream set in Mesa Verde during the 12th Century. Sounds pretty dreamy, don't you think?

I have made it through the last scene, but this script is far from finished. The names for the immortals must be changed. Anything indicating ancient Greece must be squeezed out of the script. Almost anything too intrusive upon the religion of the Puebloan peoples must be squeezed out. Etc. A lot of work still to do.

The Love Bubble Man

This is a fictional story worked around a peculiar tangent of the JFK assassination. Two reporters, Bill Hunter and Jim Koethe, spent time in Jack Ruby's apartment on the evening of November 22, 1963 (hours after the shooting in Dealey Plaza, and before Ruby shot Oswald in the Dallas police station).

At present, this is a confused script, but, if thinned down, it might work well as a Cold Case episode

The Graven Images of Nationalism

Incomplete, about half finished. A fictional story set around the catastrophe in Iraq. I'm just too angry to contain long soliloquies condemning the war.

STAGE PLAYS

Czar Reed and the Punk

I call this a dialogue between the 19th and 20th Centuries. It is a two man play, minimal set. The historical personage is Thomas B. Reed, a United States Speaker of the House, 51st and 55th Congresses. Speaker Reed was a wonderful character. A simple quote from one of his contemporary opponents across the aisle (Champ Clark, a Democract from Missouri), should suffice. "Speaker Reed ruled the House by the brutality of his intellect. Sometimes he rubbed the skin off. Sometimes he cut to the bone. And sometimes, he crushed in a skull as though it were an eggshell."

Reckoning with Marlowe

This play was conceived as a companion piece to Shakespeare in Love. It is structured around the production of a play. In this case, the play within the play is Tamburlaine, the first play employing blank verse. It made a sensation in Elizabethan London.

This play makes a perfect evening of theater. Despite the serious theme and the depth of the tragedy, there is an amazing amount of humor (thanks, in large part, to Thomas Nashe).

Worcester v. The State of Georgia

Two cases reached the Supreme Court challenging the Indian Removal Act of 1829, the legislative crime which enabled the Trail of Tears. The second case, Worcester v. the State of Georgia, proved a victory for the Cherokees. Unfortunately, a genocidal maniac, Andrew Jackson, occupied the White House at the time. President Jackson refused to implement the Court order. The Trail of Tears followed.

This play dramatizes both Supreme Court cases.

The Humblest Individual

In Charleston, South Carolina, in 1823, a remarkable civil rights case reached the Federal Circuit Court. 131 years prior to Brown v. Topeka Board of Education, William Johnson, a State's Rights Supreme Court justice, citing the commerce clause to the Constitution, decided a case in favor of the plaintiff, a person of color.

This case swirls around the Denmark Vesey slave revolt of 1822. The play is quite a window into the times. Unfortunately, the swift pace of the story is completely broken by the actual court proceedings. This defect might not be so noticeable in a screenplay.

TELEPLAYS

The Gold Conspiracy

Beginning in 1949, the gifted Dutch diplomat and Sinologist, Robert H. van Gulik, began writing the Judge Dee mysteries. Taking a hero of Chinese folklore, Judge Dee, a Tang Dynasty official legendary for his rectitude and sleuthing, van Gulik created a series of very entertaining books celebrated by scholars and mystery fans alike.

Van Gulik made creative use of a key feature of ancient Chinese administrative practice, the rule of avoidance. Mandarin officials seldom stayed more than three years in any post, especially if they were doing a great job. They did not want anyone to build up an independent power base. So van Gulik sets his stories in several different places, following the career of Judge Dee.

The Gold Conspiracy dramatizes van Gulik's book, The Chinese Gold Murders. Judge Dee travels from Beijing to his first post at Penglai, in Shandong Province, where he exposes a plot of one of his classmates to manipulate the gold market.

Three Penglai Puzzlers

This script dramatizes three of van Gulik's short stories.

The Willow Pattern

A dramatization of another van Gulik story, the last set in Judge Dee's first post, in Shandong Province.

Obviously, the Judge Dee series would make a wonderful addition to the Mystery series on PBS. There probably would be another 12-15 scripts taking Judge Dee through his entire career.

Aussie Aviators

Afer the Armistice in 1918, the Australian government sponsored an air race from London to Fanny Bay, Darwin, despite the fact that the infrasructure supporting flight did not exist east of Calcutta. All of the aviators involved experienced a unique adventure. However, the team of Parer and McIntosh, flying a dilapidated, war surplus DeHavilland DH9 endured, perhaps, the greatest adventure of the 20th Century. Eight of the twelve episodes envisioned have been written.

"The Armistice and a Peacetime Folly"

In November 1918, John McIntosh began pilot training. After just a few days in the course, the war was over and training ceased. Raymond Parer, on the other hand, was the finest test pilot of the day. This episode dramatizes their meeting and the announcement of the Race.

"Inquest, Sabotage, Espionage, and Death"

Episode two tells the story of the failed teams. The Alliance team crashed into a Surbiton orchard and died 8 minutes after take-off. There was an inquest. The Blackburn Kangaroo team crashed at the gate of an insane asylum in Crete. An oil return hose suspiciously failed, causing the crash. The Sopwith Wallaby team, taking a more northerly route than the other teams, landed in the middle of a revolution in Serbia. They barely escaped execution as spies. The team of Howell and Fraser crashed off the coast of Corfu and drowned in 8 feet of water.

"Dodging Redcaps"

In episode three, our heroes, Parer and McIntosh, depart London in early January 1920, one month after the Smith Brothers, in their state of the art Vickers Vimy, had arrived in Darwin, winning the Prize. Parer and McIntosh did not have clear permission to fly. Technically, they were away without leave and subject to capture by the British military police, the Redcaps.

"Aflame over Forti di Marmi"

Episode Four. After two weeks in Paris repairing the plane, Parer and McIntosh continued on toward Rome. Above Forti di Marmi, a little town in northern Italy, a wing caught fire. Only a rapid descent of 5000 feet averted doom.

"Vented by Vesuvius"

Episode Five. The leg from Rome to Cairo was highlighted by a near crash into Vesuvius when a vent of gas out of the crater created a draft sucking the plane down thousands of feet in a few seconds.

"A Mills Bomb in the Assyrian Desert."

Episode Six. The leg from Cairo to Baghdad was punctuated by a daybreak raid of marauding Arabs on the shores of a lake somewhere near Ramadie.

"Friendly Cannibals"

Episode Nine. The leg from Calcutta to Rangoon included an emergency landing on an island in the middle of a tributary of the Irrawaddy River. The flight would have ended there without the help of a tribe of primitive people.

"Upside Down in the Land Down Under"

In episode twelve, Parer and McIntosh take a victory lap south and east from Darwin, destination Melbourne. The flight ends not far from Melbourne when a gust of wind flips the plane over. Parer saves McIntosh from a firy death, getting him out of his harness and gasoline spills all over the Great Scot.

Bumper Stickers

I have adorned the bumper of my Saturn LS with three stickers: 1) "We are making enemies faster than we can kill them"; 2) "Jesus is a Liberal" and; 3) I'm already against the next war."

After work one day, I found a 3X5 note card in my passenger seat which read, "You're a jerk for your bumper sticker." One of Limbaugh's Loonies just had to share his thoughts with me. I don't know which bumper sticker offended him, but I am prepared to defend them all.

Before stating my three cases, it is worth noting that my opponent did not damage my car. Right wing loonies are morally superior to left wing loonies because they respect property rights. Left wing loonies love Humanity... in the abstract. They just hate people. Right wing loonies like people - and respect the property of others. But Humanity gives them the creeps, conjuring an image of hordes of little brown people who must be kept in line with The Whip.

Now, about my bumper stickers.

1) "We are making enemies faster than we can kill them."

That should be painfully obvious to everyone. A friend just returned from New Zealand. Everywhere she went, people expressed their contempt for our President. How could you put such a moronic warmonger in the White House,? they often asked. Imagine! Hated in New Zealand.

The neo-con clowns, so fond of Churchill, should have considered this valuable observation: "The only thing worse than fighting a war with allies, is fighting one without them."

2) "Jesus is a liberal."

The centerpiece of liberal thought is the Separation of Church and State. That thought never crossed the collective Mind of ancient Athens. The Romans never conjured it. The first utterance conveying the notion of separating Church and State was, "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's. Render unto God that which is God's." When Jesus disappeared from this earth, all the push to implement that idea departed with Him. The Catholic Church became the primary obstacle.

Eighteen centuries after the Resurrection, the Founding Fathers, working collectively, managed to implement the idea - into our Bill of Rights - which Jesus had conceived working alone.

How ironic that today's Christians are our greatest threat to the Separation of Church and State.

3) "I'm already against the next war."

The neo-con screwballs are trotting out the same old reductionist logic that plunged us into the Inferno of Iraq. After dismantling the Reagan policy of using Iraq to contain Iran and Hezbollah, they argue that deterrence has failed. In other words, they created this Crisis and now argue that only they can resolve it.
These people are a curse. It's time to send them off to combat in Iraq. Or let the Marines use them for bayonet practice!

Let the Professionals Nominate

I have become a Bill Clinton fan. His return to the White House, as First Spouse, would signal a welcome revival of competence to the Executive Branch. However, like President Reagan, another competent Chief Executive, President Clinton made several grievous errors. Unlike Reagan, whose mistakes were fueled by Ideology, Clinton's mistakes were driven by Expediency.

I will focus on two tragic expedient decisions: 1) the cruise missile attack on Sudan, and 2) signing the Iraq Liberation Act.

In 1997, the Sudanese were tiring of their political and economic isolation. They had gone about as far as they could on alms from Osama bin Laden. They were looking for a bigger alms-giver and began working back channels to the Clinton Administration. They were willing to turn Osama over to us. These diplomatic feelers were rebuffed. We can never know whether the Sudanese were serious. President Clinton chose cruise missiles over diplomacy. One suspects he needed a pyro-technic display to divert attention away from the sex scandal.

(This, in no way, excuses the Republican Congress for the lurid pursuit of impeachment as al Qaeda strengthened. At least President Clinton had his eye on the ball. Meawhile, the Republicans could not take their eyes off his balls.)

General Anthony Zinni urged President Clinton to veto the Iraq Liberation Act of 1998. General Zinni clearly foresaw that the neo-Conservative warmongers would later cite that Act as evidence of bi-partisan commitment to topple Saddam. For the warmongers, Clinton's signature was the keystone in their propaganda war, justifying their sick doctrine of pre-emption. President Clinton listened patiently to General Zinni, then disregarded the advice. He chose to kick that can down the road rather than face down the neo-con lunatics.

Senator Clinton's vote to authorize the war is just one more instance of Clinton-style political expediency. Cold analysis of strategic reality fell victim to political triangulation. She must appear tough at all costs, no matter how foolish the policy. Or tragic the consequences. We can expect more of this sort of Expediency if Mrs. Clinton achieves the Presidency.

All of these concerns pale in comparison to the opportunity cost of nominating Senator Clinton. If the nomination were in the hands of the professionals, as in the good ol' days, the ticket would be Gore/Obama. Though I am not terribly enthusiastic about Al Gore, the simple fact is that such a ticket might get 60% of the vote against any Republican ticket. Such a landslide would marginalize the right wing loonies for two or three decades. They are a pestilence. We must innoculate ourselves from them if we want to reverse ourselves in the War on Terror and start winning. (Jim Webb as Secretary of Defense, Anthony Zinni as head of the National Security Council, and Richard Holbrooke as Secretary of State would be huge strides in the right direction.)

If the Democrats fail to seize this opportunity, they must be accounted part of the disease and not the cure.

A Paean to Republicans

Years ago, I wrote a play about Thomas B. Reed, Republican of Maine, Speaker of the United States House of Representatives in the 1890's. One of Reed's associates once described him by saying he had the "strongest intellect crossed on the best courage of any man in public life." Another associate, describing that powerful intellect, wrote: "Sometimes he rubs the skin off, sometimes he cuts to the bone, and sometimes he crushes in a skull as though it were an eggshell." All in all, a colorful figure.

Reed once remarked that, "Incorporated man has the courage sublime to put Unincorporated man to shame. Unincorporated man is satisfied to be paid once. How many payments would satisfy incorporated man, human experience has yet to decide."

Life and the marketplace have afforded many opportunities to observe the wisdom of this aphorism. Most recently, the Service Department at my Saturn dealer instructed me on corporate greed.

Over the last two years, I have spent about $3500 on car repairs. Given that I had bought the Saturn for reasons of economy, I was growing impatient with the steady assault on my pocketbook.

At the beginning of August, I took the car in because the air conditioner was working only on the freeway. After an hour, the service specialist gave me a list of things the car needed done - new struts, new coolant hoses, a windshield washer motor, etc. totalling at least $1200. The air conditioner, awaiting diagnosis, would be more, of course. Perhaps a lot more.

Fortunately, it was too late in the day to get on with all that, so I drove home. They expected me on the following morning.

The following morning, I went over to Strickly Ray's, the neighborhood mechanic. At the end of the day, Ray told me that the hoses have tens of thousands of miles more life left - and that there is no problem with the struts.

No charge. (He didn't have time to diagnose the air conditioner.)

Incorporated man has numbers to reach and quotas to fill. Unincorporated man is a free agent. Incorporated man looks upon customers as a means to an end. Unincorporated man looks upon the customer as a fellow free agent - an end in him/herself.

Democrats may be as forthright as Republicans in their social relationships. But can those who believe in a closed shop bring the same integrity to the marketplace? Is it not true that their many schemes to engineer a perfectly just society require the incorporation of us all? What happens to Ray Strick in that perfect world?

A Winnable War

(This was written at the end of September 2004)

Al Qaeda recruitment must be up. The President sounded downbeat, opining that the War Against Terror is unwinnable; that containment is the best we can hope for. I feel his pain. But the war is winnable.

This war, fundamentally, is all about Legitimacy. Terrorists take no responsibility to govern territory. Though Islamic terrorists may distribute alms to the poor - as a religious duty - that hardly constitutes taking up the full responsibility of governing. To set up shop, they need a failing state, a stretch of earth teeming with potential recruits.

When it became apparent that Pakistan had become a haven for al-Qaeda, the Bush Adminstration quickly forgave billions of dollars of debt and ended trade sanctions. Afghanistan, a total basket case teeming with terrorists, became the subject of an international donor's conference. A Democratic administration, certainly, would have implemented the same policies. Under the present (essentially anarchic) system of competing nation-states, the best hope for a failed state is to get on the list of "havens for terrorists."

Three out of every ten human beings goes to bed hungry at night. 90% of humanity must eke out an existence in bribery economies - failed or failing states. They are desperate and under the present system, terrorism pays. No wonder bin Laden is a hero to millions, perhaps a billion people worldwide. The Islamic fundamentalists, led by the Jihadists, hold a trump card given to them by the G8, a vast and growing gap between the developed and developing world.

The Nation-State has served its historical purpose. Humanity cannot stand still. We can either go back to the days of competing patriarchal theocracies or forward to an elected, representative and sovereign United Nations.

Here in the United States, President Bush is touted as a decisive leader. A great number of people do not care whether those firm decisions are also wise. There is a reason for that indifference. A big chunk of the Republican base are evangelical Christians - people who were disappointed when Y2K failed to bring on the Rapture. They pray for a Day of Judgment. Prod them on Iraq, point out the lies and manipulations, and they remain unruffled. It is Prophecy, they say: Armageddon. To them, President Bush is a divine instrument. They do not care whether American credibility is obliterated overseas. They do not care how many foreign countries are turned into playgrounds for terrorists. It is Prophecy. America is the instrument of divine retribution. And, since the Day of Judgment is coming, they are indifferent about the multi-trillions of dollars of debt this administration has racked up. It is an investment in death, part of God's plan to destroy the world.

(Less robust souls seem to buy into the deficit as a form of suicide. It is almost as if the Administration has cut a psychic deal with bin Laden: "If we commit suicide, will you promise not to attack us? Pretty please!")

This death wish, to a certain degree, is shared by at least 23% of the rest of us. In a starving world, nearly one quarter of the American population is clinically obese. Adolescent boys today consume nearly four times as much soda pop as my generation. Girls don't drink milk. Schools around the country have prostituted themselves to the fast food and soft drink industries. Imagine the number of diabetics there will be two decades from now.

Bush Republicans don't care about unfunded entitlements. Bush Republicans don't care about Halliburton raiding the Treasury. They don't care because the future is unreachable - just as the War on Terror is unwinnable. They just want to be the last to die, so they invest their tax rebates on panic rooms in walled, gated communities.

A fundamental reality of Capitalism - price-factor equalization (manifested as 'out-sourcing') exacerbates the terrorist crisis. Californians want to keep the Punjabis, Bengalis and other Indians out of Silicon Valley. They want to keep Hewlett Packard out of Bangalore. Will this solve the problem? Of course not. Capitalism will always find the most willing, able, productive, and profitable hands. Today, those hands are in China and India. If HP fails to put those hands to work, someone else will. Do the technology workers of the developed West expect their counterparts in the developing East to politely starve?

American credibility in the Middle East has been eroding ever since the CIA installed the Shah in Iran five decades ago. The present Administration has utterly blown whatever little credibility remained. It is ironic that people calling themselves conservatives have nailed us into this coffin. Traditional conservatism postulates that tax-averse citizens, by their stinginess, limit the capacity of Government to implement foolish policies. They once understood, better than liberals, that our power far exceeds our wisdom. How ironic that those old-fashioned xenophobic isolationists are the ones who would have prevented us from discrediting ourselves abroad by denying us the means of prosecuting foreign adventures. No future administration will ever restore the credibility they would never have lost.

So - the factors determing whether the War on Terror is winnable are:

1. The Nation-State system is only as good as its weakest link. Thus, it has failed.
2. Structural deficits and high tolerance of cognitive dissonance is evidence that the United States is in a self-destructive swoon.
3. American military power vastly exceeds the wisdom of the Electorate, resulting in the final erosion of American credibility - the rock on which postwar security has been based.
4. The collapse of the Soviet Union and the greed of weapons manufacturers worldwide has brought about an unlimited supply of lethal weaponry.
5. Price/factor equalization is a tremendous opportunity for the developing world.
6. Into the future, the entitlements programs of most developed countries are insolvent.

This mixture will ferment. The future is indeed perilous. Our stratetic margin of error narrows monthly.

There are two basic paths to a livable future. One is Fortress America. The other, its opposite, is Globalism, a forward strategy. I'm afraid we must choose.

Fortress America, in this new world, would be a constellation of ideas associated with Patrick Buchanan - Protectionism, Isolationism, and Nativism (anti-immigration policies). To that, I would add a Jeffersonian embargo - to demonstrate our sincerity to the Islamic World and other traditional societies. They are deeply offended (and destabilized) by the filth (movies, music, fashions, idolatry and pornography) we export. Imposing an embargo would demonstrate our sensitivity to the disruption we cause in traditional societies.

Historians generally agree that Jefferson's embargo failed. I disagree. It helped keep the United States neutral during the Napoleonic wars. (In fact, we were able to exploit Napoleon's desperate need for cash and purchase the enormous Louisiana Territory for 3 cents an acre!) It does not matter whether embargoes completely choke off all exports. It matters that we make a sincere effort to so choke. The world may be unstable for awhile as Europe and China take up the burden we have shouldered for half a century. But, both of those civilizations have taken up the responsibility of stabilizing their respective regions in the past. They have experience. They are mature civilizations. The world may well breathe a sigh of relief that America will no longer project our collective un-wisdom outward. And, the world market will no longer be a dumping ground for our excess capacity.

Fortress America, sensibly, accommodates the worries and fears of traditional societies. It is important to recall that we are not so removed from ignorance and misogyny. During the 19th Century, overworked women were often diagnosed with "neuralgia." One of the recommended treatments - a clitorectomy - is better known as female emasculation. Misogyny ran deep in our culture. In 1848, a court in New York state upheld the right of a clergyman to whip his wife once every month - essential to her "better instruction" according to his theology. So, we have little right to jump on our high horse and beat our breasts about the backwardness of the Islamic World.

Yet, that is precisely what I urge with the forward strategy - Globalism.

Mankind must now dump the Nation-State. That system, a liberating force during the 18th and 19th Centuries, is now a curse. While 1/3 of humanity goes to bed hungry, the populations of wealthy countries dispute silly, self-absorbed nonsense like gay marriage. While 90% of humanity must find a way to keep body and soul together in bribary economies, the populations of wealthy countries fret over their entitlements. Why are those 90% NOT entitled? Do you really think we are more beloved of God? Small wonder there is an endless supply of suicide bombers eager to die for bin Laden. Only an elected, representative, and sovereign United Nations - a necessary institution awaiting birth - can act legitimately to dry up that pool.

The Nation-State, morally, died on June 28, 1914. We are still squandering resources trying to revive the corpse. Nine decades of investment and what do have to show for it? World War I. World War II. Proxy wars in Korea and Vietnam. Genocide in Rwanda. Communal terror in the Holy Lands. Ethnic cleansing in the Balkans (again! right where the first shot was fired!). And now the transformation of Iraq into a terrorist playground.

Resuscitation has failed. The stinking, festering corpse of the Nation-State is spawning lethal maggots - bin Laden and his disciples. Incinerate the corpse and the maggots will die. Or, would you rather die with the corpse?

In my opinion, Fortress America would be more investment in resuscitation - throwing good money after bad.

When Tropical Storm Bonnie struck Florida, I predicted that 2004 would be the worst hurricane season in that state's history. I predicted that landfall for one of those hurricanes would be Palm Beach County. Instead, two hurricanes hit where the 2000 election was stolen. In September 2001, I predicted that for every year the world delays amending the Charter of the United Nations, there will be five years of war. By my reckoning, this war will last well into the third decade of this millenium.

Do not regret the end of the Nation-State, even our beloved United States of America. The Bible told us this day would come.

"All nations before Him are as nothing, and they are counted to Him less than nothing, and vanity." Isaiah 40:17

Grooving the Nuclear Option

Dear Mr. Carlson,

The media - and especially conservative media - is grooving debate on Iraq into a rut to make it seem we have no choice but to support the surge or expand the war into Iran. Conservative media - and most of the so-called "liberal" media, as well - lament Iranian support of Shi'a insurgents, making it seem we have no choice but to strike Iran. Nobody in the conservative media - and damn few "liberals" - mention that 50% of Sunni insurgents in Iraq are Saudis. Why do you all ignore that fact? Are you owned by Aramco?

And - you all keep framing the "al Qaeda in Iraq" issue exactly as President Bush wants it framed. You really want us to believe - that if we leave Iraq - that al Qaeda will just march into Baghdad and take over, unopposed. Do you really think a bunch of Sunni sectarian bigots will be greeted as liberators in a country with a Shi'a majority? In a country with mobilized Shi'a militias? Will Hezbollah idly stand by while al Qaeda takes over? The only thing uniting the sectarian lunatics is the competition to see how many of us they can kill. With us gone, they will have only each other to immolate. That inferno should keep them busy for a long, long time.

It's a pretty shameful thing we've done - light-heartedly and light-mindedly bringing this catastrophe upon the peoples of Iraq. But the surge cannot reverse the insurgency. Counter-insurgency specialists talk of an immobilization ratio of 10-1. Irregular/Guerrilla/Insurgent forces outnumbered 10-1 by conventional forces can achieve stalemate. Defeating an insurgency - and Malaya in the 50s is the gold standard of counter-insurgency - requires at least a decade and a 30-1 advantage. Those are the numbers. Read them and sober up.

Clowns

1) One of the co-owners of my health club, Larry, has a friend who paints houses. This friend and his partner were working a job directly across Pierce Street from Columbine when all hell broke loose. The police began ferrying the wounded - some seriously wounded - across the street and onto the lawns. They instructed the painters to get to work applying direct pressure to minimize bleeding. Soon, the two painters were up to their elbows in blood with about ten kids. Two television cameraman showed up. The painters yelled at them to roll up their sleeves and pitch in. They refused. Apparently, they prefered filming a kid bleeding to death over saving a life. I wonder whether their employer paid them a bonus for their work that day?

2) The local television stations stayed with the story, almost continuously, well into the evening. I watched the television at my terminal, with my co-workers, until 5:30. Then, I went to the home of my best friend, Bill Wright, a teacher at Lakewood High School.

As the horrible event unfolded, one of the anchormen never missed an opportunity to remind us that the Columbine area 'is such a nice neighborhood.' Every horrible detail elicited the same blood-curdling vacuity from the anchor. One could almost see the Grant Ranch developers - those touting their investment as 'the last great place' - pulling the anchor's puppet strings. I looked at Bill and said, "The denial machine is working at full capacity, today."

3) Shortly after the massacre, a local talk show host, Jay Marvin, encouraged kids to call in. He thought it was time for adults to begin listening to kids. I seldom pay attention to talk shows. But my ears perked up for this show.

A young man, probably a teenager, called in to offer the opinion that kids nowadays face the dilemma of NOT having new frontiers to discover. I think he wanted to develop the point that destruction is the only form of meaningful activity left. I'll never know because the host shut him down immediately: "I don't buy that! There are always new worlds to discover!" The kid clammed up. I don't recall any others calling in after that. So much for letting the kids talk!

Now, whether you agree with the kid or not, you must admit that he should have been allowed to develop his point - especially given that the host had urged the kids to call in. But Jay Marvin, like most talk radio hosts, simply refused to yield center stage.

And don't you think his remark was rather flippant? Did our host discover a vaccine for polio, this week? Climb the Matterhorn? Cross the Continental Divide in a Conestoga wagon? Land on the moon? Plant a flag on Iwo Jima? Sail to China on a Yankee Cliper? Charge up San Juan Hill? No, of course not. And, sorry, I don't think today's youth will find much inspiration in the adventures of another insensitive radio talk show host.

4) I watched a few minutes of the memorial service the Sunday after. The southern end of Jefferson County is loaded with evangelicals. Naturally, they invited Franklin Graham to speak. I listened to a few sentences reminding everyone that only through the Savior Jesus Christ can there be peace. He was preaching to the choir. I've heard it all before, so I turned off the television and went upstairs to read a book.

In the paper the next day, I read that a local rabbi 'felt disenfranchised' by Preacher Graham's remarks. I nearly fainted from the blood rushing to my temples! Imagine! One of the lost boys, the son of a Jewish mother, worshipped Adolf Hitler! The entire Jewish community, all of us (and especially the rabbinical order) have failed miserably. How could we have nourished this viper in our bosom - this dagger aimed at our hearts - and never known? For a rabbi to spare a single moment, expend a single neural impulse, critiquing the oratory of a competitor under these circumstances is vanity of galactic breadth!

5) When a new President takes office, most Americans wish him well. On January 20, 1993, my goodwill toward President Clinton was probably deeper than average (even though I voted for Perot). I felt that President Bush was a phoney and that President Reagan had bankrupted the country. I admired President Clinton's intellect. I thought he might turn out to be like President Kennedy, someone classy and poised.

But, more than any of that, I was impressed by the fact that he was from Arkansas. My family lived in Little Rock during the desegregation crisis at Central High School. The Governor at the time, Orville Faubus, made a fool of himself (and the state) by his words and deeds supporting the racists. My English mother thought she was living with extra-terrestrials during those years in Little Rock. When President Clinton was inaugurated, she smiled and shook her head, saying, "I can't believe this man is from Arkansas."

I am glad President Clinton survived the impeachment ordeal. Hopefully, we have had our fill of gutter politics and honey traps. But, I am still disappointed with the man. During the campaign, his enemies used Gennifer Flowers to fire a shot across his bow. He should have realized that he would have to give up the womanizing for the duration of his Presidency. He failed to do so. Apparently, his urges take precedence over all other considerations - including the dignity of the office.

At Dakota Ridge High School, President Clinton addressed the Columbine students. Afterward, he shook hands with all of the boys and hugged the girls, who noticed the difference in physical treatment. Sad, isn't it?

6) On August 16th, I transported some Columbine kids up to Windy Peak, one of Jeffco's outdoor education schools. We departed from Colorow Elementary to avoid the press circus at the high school. Before leaving, I asked the kids to choose a radio station. They selected KBPI, a hard rock station. After a few songs, the disc jockey took a call from a listener, who must've been in his late 20's. The listener remarked that he always liked school. He expressed some fatigue with all of the media coverage on the kids returning to Columbine and the focus on security. The disc jockey piped in, "Those kids at Columbine are justg a bunch of whiney rich kids." I looked in my mirror. Those listening had been wounded. I asked, "Do you want me to change the station?" "Please," a girl answered for all.

I wish these puffed idiots with a mike in their hands would quit imagining themselves as tough guys and start imagining themselves as human beings. I am reminded of how I reacted to my first trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. That night, I wrote: "It is absurd to consider toughness and sensitivity as contradictory aspects of human nature. The man esteeming himself sensitive, discounting toughness, is neither. His effete superficiality is transparent to the true artist. The man projecting toughness to the world, mocking sensitivity, is neither. His false bravado elicits contempt from the true warrior. The artist and the warrior are one."

This idea is supported in both the Eastern and Western tradition. Chogyam Trungpa remarked, "To be a warrior is to learn to be genuine every moment of your life." Christopher Marlowe, in his play Tamburlaine, has the barbarian firmly assert, "Every warrior that is rapt with the love of fame, of valour, and of victory, must needs have beauty beat on his conceits."

There are many voices beating over the airwaves whose conceits comprehend nothing beyond their little pinkies.

The Divisible Bill of Rights

At the end of the last day of the school year, every year, many of the drivers at my terminal gather at a local tavern. This year, we went to Greenfield's. Kelly (a hot-blooded woman of Irish descent) showed, even though she no longer drives a bus, having transfered to a better job with the Warehouse department. I had not seen her for several months.

Kelly knows many of my Columbine kids. A few years ago, her Ken Caryle Middle School route served the same neighborhood. She knows Patrick, the boy dragged out of the library window on national television. We talked about the kids we both know for about an hour. (I had promised one boy on the bus, Reed, that I would say, "Hi!," for him the next time I saw Kelly.) We both remarked on the peculiar feeling we had watching the events unfold on television that day, suddenly realizing that people we know were caught up in it.

Kelly, politically, is a real liberal. I have seen her argue the pro-choice position, ceaselessly, against all comers. Imagine my surprise when she urged her firm support for the Second Amendment. Once, in high school, one of her teachers spoke of gun ownership as a 'privilege.' Kelly erupted, "It's not a privilege. It's a right! It's called the Bill of Rights! All ten are precious or none of them!" Then, with an epithet-filled exercise of her First Amendment right, she stormed out of the classroom.

She makes a fine point, don't you think? All ten are precious. A local talk show host, Peter Boyles, apparently does not agree. Lately, he's been sealing his arguments with gun owners, saying, "What if one of the victims was your kid? Would you sacrifice your kid for the Second Amendment?" I take that to mean Mr. Boyles considers the Second Amendment expendable. Is he right? Or, is Kelly right? Is the Bill of Rights a unified whole? Or, are those Rights divisible?

Let us assume those Rights are divisible and we should throw out those which have wrought too much evil.

During Slavery and Jim Crow days, the southern states defended their racist policies behind the Tenth Amendment - State's Rights. Those states contravened the spirit of the Constitution by insisting on the letter of it - the Tenth Amendment. Behind its shelter, thousands of black Americans were lynched. Millions were intimidated from exercising their right to vote and denied access to the courts. With that kind of bloody history, we really ought to throw out the Tenth Amendment along with the Second. Maybe we could do it on the same day?

What about the Fifth Amendment? It has blood all over it. Thousands of racketeers, pimps, drug pushers, and other scum have escaped justice by invoking the Fifth Amendment. What if your daughter died of a drug overdose? Would you sacrifice your child for the sake of the Fifth Amendment?

If you don't agree with chucking out the Fifth, how about the Fourth? Why should the police have to wait for a search warrant? Let them swoop out of the blue and pounce on those drug pushers. Or, we could get rid of the Eighth. Remember those Wyoming goat ropers who tortured Matthew Shepard? Why should they be sheltered from cruel and unusual punishment? They merit torture. Let's do it! And the same for those racists in Texas who dragged their victim two miles down a dirt road. We should tie them to the back bumper of their pickup truck and drag them down the same dirt road until they die. Let's do it! And televise it! Do you think any racist would dare torture anyone ever again, knowing that they themselves would become the object of their cruelest fantasies? Let's get rid of the Fourth, Fifth, and Eight Amendments all in one fell swoop.

Amendments Six and Seven can stay. I have some qualms about the Sixth, though. It's in the interest of us all that criminals receive a speedy trial. A competent prosecutor can get a conviction and quickly punish the criminal. But, I don't see why the criminal's accusers should have to go through the ordeal - and danger - of a public trial. Why can't they remain anonymous? What use is a Constitution which compels people to be so brave? It simply sets them up to be victims again. Maybe I was too hasty. We should also get rid of the Sixth - or at least that part of the Sixth.

We can keep the Seventh. Of course, juries can act perversely. We all remember the O.J. trial. The Defense team managed to put together a jury ignorant enough to dismiss solid, conclusive DNA evidence when presented with a cockeyed theory that a racist cop must have planted that evidence. Throw in the fact that the victims were adulterers, stir in some breast implants - and you have a gross miscarriage of justice. I must admit - trial by jury is also expendable.

I am a writer, so naturally the First Amendment is sacrosanct. But, if we keep the Ninth Amendment - "The enumeration, in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people" - maybe I don't need it. Maybe I can look a censor in the eye and say, "Look! I retain certain rights. I think I have the right of Free Speech. You cannot stop me from saying whatever I damn well please!" Maybe, he'd agree.

Maybe?

The Wright Stuff

Lawrence Wright's, The Looming Tower, is the essential primer on the rise of al Qaeda. Leave it to a screenwriter to illuminate the obvious fact that this is a war of imagination. Every American should read this book. Your failure to do so compromises your usefulness in the War on Terror.

Mr. Wright made hundreds of observations, calmly expressed, which bring to mind President Lincoln's efforts to get the Northern people focused on the task at hand: "We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country."

(Perhaps I will place a long list of specific reactions at the end of this essay. But there are two things I must comment upon.)

First, on the partisan level, it occurred to me that both the Clinton and Bush Administrations have made stupid decisions driven by mass angst. Clinton reacted to the Embassy bombings in Africa by sending cruise missiles after a pet food factory in Sudan. True, he had some intelligence suggesting the production of chemical weapons, but it was poorly vetted. Yet, at the same time, Sudan was trying to open a diplomatic channel to us promising the capture of bin Laden. This offer was spurned, in part, because a diplomatic success lacks the pyrotechnic splendor of a bombing. In sum, Clinton, like Bush, sought to appease American angst. We keep telling our leaders: "Sling some bombs around! Tell those towelheads, DON'T FUCK WITH US!!" The upshot is, of course, that we keep providing bin Laden with recruiting posters. More terrorists, not less.

Mr. Wright, I remind you, remains calm. Even when he describes the appalling failure of the C.I.A. to share (with the F.B.I.!) the Agency's knowledge of Mihdhar's and Hamzi's presence in the country, Mr. Wright maintains his composure. The Agency, perhaps, assumed that Saudi intelligence was trying to turn Mihdhar and Hamzi into double agents. They didn't want the F.B.I. charging in with arrest warrants. Instead, they permitted a team of doggedly motivated investigators working for a brilliant team of prosecutors (including Patrick Fitzgerald, by the way) to labor in semi-darkness. Astonishing stupidity! If it wasn't so stupendously tragic, it would bring to mind Captain Flagg from the M.A.S.H. television series.

Everyman Copes

As a school bus driver, I am usually free from about 9:30-1:30. Most days, I go home for a nap. On Hitler's birthday, my mother woke me, screaming, "All hell's broken loose at Columbine!" Groggily, the enormity of the event began to sink in.
I made it to work around 1:30. One of the drivers, Val, had just left a home full of hysterical kids. Her niece and a bunch of friends had fled there when the shooting began. Val seemed just barely holding together.

We had two old televisions at my terminal, donated by the drivers. Needless to say, we were all glued to the sets. At that time, our supervisors had to wait for the police to determine the extent of the cordon sanitaire around Columbine. All Jefferson County schools were in lockdown. Some Denver schools also locked down.

Finally, they sent us all to our first schools, even though they were still in lockdown. I sat alone in my bus at Carmody, listening to KHOW continuous news coverage. After 20 minutes or so, a kid (perhaps high school) asked me what was happening. I (inappropriately) blurted, "Some little shitheads at Columbine are shooting people!" The kid said, "Oh!" and walked on.

About 15 minutes later, Carmody let the kids out. They had just a vague idea of what was happening. When someone said there were kids shooting guns at Columbine, a few of the boys reacted, "Wow! Cool!" I had expected this, but lacked the heart to throw an appropriate fit. I just quietly asked them whether they wished to listen to music or the news. They all wanted to hear the news. As it became clear that many Columbine students were seriously wounded, a somber mood took over. We left the school. I made extra stops. Several parents were outside or at the bus stops waiting for their kids. I wondered how many would be enrolled at private schools the following year.

My elementary students seemed unaffected by the tragedy. I put on the music, keeping up the daily routine.

I finished my route and returned to the terminal around 5:00. The Hitler worship of the lost boys was being reported. I slammed my fist on the table and bellowed: I knew it! Little fucking Nazis!" I watched television until the office shut down at 5:30. Erin (a lovely young woman who must have been absent the day Generation X passed out the armor) and I were the last to leave.

As I was driving home, I decided to see how my best friend, Bill Wright, was doing. Bill and I graduated from Lakewood High School in 1974, a class of 490. Bill graduated 245th. He is so average, I sometimes think of him as Everyman. He was born in Wellington, Ohio (sight of the Lorain County Fair in mid-August every year). During the 1850s, Lorain County was a major stop on the underground railroad. Personal liberty laws were taken seriously. There were several big trials in Wellington - test cases for the Federal Fugitive Slave Act. Prosecutors experienced great trouble finding juries willing to convict. The South was enraged. One historian even argues that the Civil War began in Lorain County. Bill descends from simple, decent people.

Bill is non-violent, almost to a Jain extreme. He won't kill bugs in his house. He sweeps them up onto a piece of paper and evicts them to the garden. (My maternal grandfather used to do the same thing.) Bill teaches and coaches track at Lakewood. When I came by on Hitler's birthday, he was glued to the television. Until that moment, I had not thought about the people I know at Columbine. Bill, on the other hand, had thought of little else. He was scanning the coverage, each camera angle, looking at the people in the background. He spotted Andy Lowry, the football coach (and one of Bill's former students)at Leawood Elementary. He also spotted Ivory Moore, the track coach, Ivory is black, so there was reason to worry that the lost boys might have made him a special target. We never saw Rudy Martin, the basketball coach (Lakewood class of 1972). Usually, I would see Rudy's wife, Jan, at Peiffer. But not that day.

By the time I got to Bill's house, it was rumored that Dave Sanders might be wounded, perhaps from doing something heroic. To Bill, who knew his colleague well, that heroism seemed plausible. It also seemed plausible that Rudy might react in a similar way. Jan thought so. She dashed from Peiffer straight to Clement Park. While searching, a reporter stuck a microphone in her face. Jan slapped it away, saying, "I'm looking for my husband!" Eventually, she found him.

Rudy began that day way behind on his paperwork. To catch up, he traded Commons duty with Patty Neilsen. He was alone in his classroom when all hell broke loose. Patty took a bullet in her shoulder. She took charge of a group in the library. She called 9-1-1. She accurately described her location and immediate peril to the dispatcher. Somehow, this information was not relayed to the SWAT teams in a timely or prioritized manner. The lost boys found the library - and lambs for slaughter. Meanwhile, Rudy got himself and about 30 kids safely out of the school.

That night Jan received about 500 phone calls. One was from Bill, voice cracking with sorrow.

Luddites at General Motors

Dear Mr. Titus,

I applaud your movie, Who Killed the Electric Car. Naturally, the visual image which stuck was of those perfectly useful, technologically advanced EV1s crushed in the Arizona desert. I was especially incensed with the GM spokesman assuring everyone that the components would be recycled. As I drove home, I tried to recall his name so I could send him a real nasty letter ('a hot bundle of paprika' as one of my heroes, General Stilwell, would say).

Soon after, I read Kurt Vonnegut's, A Man Without a Country. That diatribe against contemporary American society, coupled with your movie, urged me on toward Revolution as the only solution to this appalling decay of our Civilization. I lay in bed wondering how many vicious, warmongering plutocrats must be publicly executed to set the necessary salutary example for the others. I settled on 2500 as a sensible number, then fell asleep.
The next day, my Libertarian instinct asserted itself over Vonnegut's Socialism. My thoughts centered on his kind remarks for the Luddites:

"I have been called a Luddite. I welcome it. Do you know what a Luddite is? A person who hates newfangled contraptions... Today, we have contraptions like nuclear submarines armed with Poseidon missiles that have H-bombs in their warheads. And we have contraptions like computers that cheat you out of becoming... Progress has beat the heck out of me. It took away from me what a loom must have been to Ned Ludd two hundred years ago. I mean a typewriter. There is no such thing anywhere."

Over the course of that day, the image of Luddites smashing looms merged with that of those smashed EV1s in Arizona. Suddenly, I realized that Luddites have taken over GM's Board of Directors. (And study the inutility of their decision to destroy the EV1. They hoped to protect their Parts Division, yet, it has since slipped into bankruptcy.)

In 1813, smashing machines was a capital offense. His Majesty's Government tried and executed 17 Luddites. Today, I think it would be fascinating to root out the 17 individuals most responsible for the decision to smash the EV1. Then, conduct a mock trial - with prosecutors and defense counsel. How about that for a sequel to your marvelous documentary?

Maxim for a Free Society

Dear Dr. Mahin,

I applaud One War at a Time, your tribute to President Lincoln's wise management of foreign policy during the Civil War. Throughout the escalation into this misadventure in Iraq, I could not help but make comparisons between the Lincoln and Bush Administrations.

Our 'shock and awe' for the citizens of Baghdad, tactically, reminds me too much of bin Laden's 'shock and awe' for the citizens of New York. The choice between the terrorists and us, for the rest of the world, is not as clear as I would like it to be. President Lincoln, I am certain, would have demonstrated the clearest possible distinction. I borrow a quote of Lincoln's from your book.

"... the Founding Fathers 'meant to set up a standard maxim for a free society which could be... constantly spreading and deepening its influence and augmenting the happiness and value of life to people of all colors everywhere."

The present crisis requires a leader with Lincoln's breadth of view. But, perhaps, it is not meant to be. Perhaps American power must be de-legitimized - that we must be exposed as too immature to be trusted with this kind of power - in order to pave the way for the emergence of a truly representative and sovereign United Nations capable of 'augmenting the happiness and value of life to people of all colors everywhere.'

The Third Most Over-rated President

Dear Dr. Schweizer,

The present-day phenomenon of the 'chicken hawk' - warmongering conservatives who found ways to ditch their duty during the Vietnam era - has renewed my interest in McCarthyism. I wonder whether the same type - the loud-mouth, self-proclaimed super patriot - succeeded politically then using the same tactics Karl Rove succeeds with today. Rove has successfully trashed men whose patriotic credentials seemed beyond reproach - John McCain, Max Cleland, and John Kerry. Does this repeat an ugly pattern from the past? Do the loud-mouth, sunshine patriots always win?

I began compiling a list of Predators and Prey from the McCarthy period. I was considering adding Ronald Reagan to the Predators list - when I picked up your book as part of the research. I also picked up Eric Bentley's,Thirty Years of Treason, where I read Reagan's testimony before HUAC. The only person Reagan trashed was Herb Sorrell (and I'll take your word that Sorrell merited trashing) so I decided that he was not a true Predator. And Reagan was fairly eloquent expressing his confidence that a free society could win an open debate with Communism.

Your book disappointed me in several ways. Your portrayal of the Hollywood strike made it appear that the strikers were all dupes - puppets on Sorrell's string. Your analysis struck me as shallow and perfunctory. People do not, like zombies, risk their livelihood. I could not buy your assertion (on p. 282) that 'Moscow and its supporters did try to gain a level of control in Hollywood.' Frankly, I am still with Lillian Hellman's confession that she was wrong about Stalin but the McCarthyites were the ones who damaged the country.

Your analysis of the Hollywood strike raised my suspicions. I skimmed the index. Lo and behold, there was no mention of 'Beirut' or 'Marine barracks' or 'Lebanon' or 'national debt.' Warily, I read on. Imagine my disgust with your omission of any reference to the cut and run after the bombing of the Marine barracks on February 23, 1983. That omission is especially nauseating given the fact that Marines (who had been on the way to Beirut and diverted at sea) landed on Grenada on the very same day! That is a startling fact. Your failure to comment upon it makes it difficult to take you seriously as a biographer.

(Would it not be perfectly logical for the terrorists - comparing President Reagan's tough policy toward the Soviets with his cut and run from Beirut - to conclude that assymmetric war might very well work against the United States? May I suggest this as a topic for your next book? Would not that be a meatier, more dignified topic for someone with your credentials than joining Ann Coulter in her petty hectoring of liberals?)

The Wall in Berlin fell at some cost. The women of Afghanistan paid a very high price for the re-unification of Germany. The bureaucrats of the Soviet puppet government in Kabul were 55% female. When that government fell (after holding on for several years after the Russian withdrawal), those women were handed pink slips and blue burkahs. A reign of Terror was unleashed. Our abandonment of those women was a great sin. Connect that sin up with Reagan's obscene deficit spending - and the unheeded warning of Deuteronomy, chapter 28, seems our just desserts. After warning, in verse 12, that God's people "shalt lend unto many nations and thou shalt not borrow," verses 49-52 describe the punishment: "The Lord shall bring a nation against thee from afar, from the end of the earth, as swift as the eagle flieth... and he shall besiege thee in all thy gates until thy high and fenced walls come down..."

In conclusion, your use of Soviet and old Warsaw Pact sources briefly made an impression upon me. But upon consideration of the startling omissions, the bias with which I began reading the book still stands. Ronald Reagan, though a very nice guy, is the third most over-rated President in American History.

Rumfoord's Pocket History of Iraq

Civilization, to date, has created 10,000 wars. Regrettably, there are only four intelligent commentaries on war: those of Thucydides, Julius Caesar, Shelby Foote, and Winston Niles Rumfoord, my uncle, who chose 75,000 words so well that nothing remains to be said about the war between Earth and Mars. That war, of course, is prologue to my war. As such, the enquiring scholar must carefully study The Pocket History of Mars.

My purpose would be well- served with a brief excerpt from my uncle's masterwork:

"The mastermind of the Martian suicide was Winston Niles Rumfoord... It was Rumfoord's intention that Mars should lose the war - that Mars should lose it foolishly and horribly. As a seer of the future, Rumfoord knew for certain that this would be the case, and he was content. He wished to change the world for the better by the great and unforgettable suicide of Mars."

I served in the war between Earth and Mars, a veteran of its greatest skirmish - the Battle of the Basel Meat Market. When the Swiss demanded my surrender, I ejaculated, "Nuts!" My bravery that day inspired Winston Niles Rumfoord to adopt me as his nephew, heir to his Legacy. I carry on today, in Iraq, the high ideals of his Martian adventure.

The American Commander-in-Chief responded to 9/11 by announcing a Crusade. Imagine the consternation in the Islamic World! Could any announcement more inflame them? The radio antenna we had installed in his head worked perfectly! He followed this up by christening our military response, "Operation Infinite Justice." Since only Allah can dispense Infinite Justice, he might as well have code-named it Operation Blasphemy.

The perpetrators of 9/11 left a trail of bread crumbs leading to Afghanistan. The terrorists were funded by a network of Wahhabi charities tracking back to Saudi Arabia. 14 of the suicide bombers were Saudis. None were from Iraq, a secular Ba'athist country. I reminded everyone that there were few good targets in Afghanistan, no place less suited for demonstrating the overwhelming strike capacity of the American war machine.

I went, reluctantly, with the World into Afghanistan. We kept the pressure on, offensively, as our NATO allies came in behind us to secure liberated areas. Once we trapped the al Qaeda leadership in Tora Bora, we were finally free to go after Iraq, my preferred target. The oil men were overjoyed. Secretly, I smiled at their naive greed.

The easy victory in Afghanistan failed to satiate the urge to avenge 9/11. We manipulated that angst mercilessly. We cherry-picked the intelligence, elevating to the status of revealed Truth the fairy tales of an embezzler and a doubtful source code-named 'Curve Ball.' In our public pronouncements on national security, we always coupled Iraq with 9/11. We casually dismissed the conclusions of the inter-agency Iraq Assessment Group, which warned that high troop levels would have to be maintained after Liberation. We laughed in the face of the counter-insurgency theorists, who warned of a protracted struggle. Generals who questioned our rosy scenario were put on the fast track to retirement. We squawked about a (non-existent) nuclear threat. We retaliated against those who questioned our pronouncements.

It was a masterpiece of Mendacity.

The war in Iraq commenced with our bombing of Baghdad, something we christened 'shock and awe' - an obvious synonym for Terror. Humanity was put on notice. Though the bombs were very smart, the technological transformation of the American military was still incomplete. Institutionally, the objective was to transcend the human factor, boots on the ground. Simultaneously, this would make morale, as a factor to be consulted, obsolete. With Morale obsolete, morality could be jettisoned as well. All war calculations, for the first time in History, would be purely objective. Humanity would lie prostrate to pure power. And it would be America, an apathetic democracy, which would wield that power.

The war in Iraq, sold to Americans as quick and easy, has entered its fifth year. The war, meant to be financed by Iraq's oil revenues, is costing the United States $5,000,000,000 per month. Selling the war was a masterpiece of deception. The American people blinded themselves to the ruthless manipulation. The rest of the World watched in disgust.

Many at DoD like to think the war would have been better put off until transformation was complete. But, they admit that 9/11 presented a golden opportunity. We had to seize it. My colleagues at DoD like to think that American public opinion today would be more positive if we were fighting with a transformed military - where we had elevated war to a simple mathematical calculation. They don't ask themselves the next series of questions. Would the rest of the World serenely submit to American domination? How many would we have to kill and maim with our machines to secure that submission? In securing that submission, would we become better people? Or would we continue to rot, growing ever more obese - denizens of the Third Circle, slush-meat for Cerberus - as our machines performed our dirty work?

The virtue of transformation, in terms of the Rumfoord Legacy, would have been to clarify the central issue. Is the life force, Universal Will to Become (UWTB), stronger than the death force? Would Humanity submit to the whims of an overfed superpower?

The war in Iraq, politically, for Americans, has been an exercise in flatulent patriotism, orchestrated by men notorious for their lack of service in an earlier imperialist adventure. The end of the American Empire is being greeted with a Greek chorus of 'Support our Troops,' the theme song of people who have no intention of joining them. Instead, the volunteers suffer third and fourth tours of duty. (They remind me so much of the grossly misused Army of Mars.) The army wastes away through attrition. Morale seeps, like blood, into the desert sands ready to blow away forever with the next brisk gale.

The American people bought our argument that, by tying down the terrorists in Iraq, they could not attack our homeland. Few considered the possibility that the reverse would be true, that terrorists could tie us down for decades fighting an insurgency in Iraq. And consider the chill this policy has up the spines of the rest of the World. Americans are willing to see other countries, any country, turned into playgrounds for terrorists as long as the United States is not hit. Imagine adopting such a morally bankrupt strategy while, simulaneously, claiming moral leadership of the World.

Nothing could suit my purpose better.

American casualties, to date, are over 3500 killed - more than 2500 of those after victory was (prematurely) declared in May 2003. At least 15,000 have been wounded, a high percentage of those seriously. Indigenous casualties number somewhere between 30,000 and 650,000. Nobody knows for sure, and most Americans - especially the Rapture-impaired, Culture of Life mob - don't care. Nobody knows how many have been seriously wounded. Is there anyone in Iraq unscathed by this war?

In The Pocket History of Mars, my uncle takes the measure of Leadership. I am certain he would admire our Commander-in-Chief immensely.

"Any man who would change the World in a significant way must have showmanship, a genial willingness to shed other people's blood, and a plausible new religion to introduce during the brief period of repentance and horror that usually follows bloodshed. Every failure of Earthling leadership has been traceable to a lack on the part of the leader of at least one of these things. Enough of these fizzles of leadership, in which millions die for nothing or less! Let us have, for a change, a magnificently-led few who die for a great deal."

The American Commander-in-Chief believes he is a divine instrument. Oh! If he only he knew to what purpose! Consider the irony. The man was voted into the most powerful office in the World thanks to the Electoral College, a vestige of the old Slavocracy. Then, in office, this man (the living embodiment of the failure of the great American democracy) announced that he would impose Democracy on the Middle East! Americans, robot-like, nodded their heads approvingly. The rest of
the World hung their heads in dismay.

Iraq is the vomit of the anarchic system of competing nation-states. The liberating force of the 18th Century, Nationalism, has decayed into a death wish. The nation-state is a millstone around our necks. Either we get rid of it, or it will get rid of us. In a world where two billion people go to bed hungry every night, $1,000,000,000,000 is immolated every year on the funeral pyre of defense spending. An elected, representative and sovereign United Nations is long overdue. The life force, Universal Will to Become (UWTB), imposes an intelligent design. Only a re-chartered United Nations can act legitimately against Terrorism. Such an institution cannot emerge until the last superpower is brought to its knees.

I am the mastermind of the American suicide in Iraq. It was always my intent to lose this war - to lose it foolishly and dishonorably. Flaws in the American character, runaway hubris, and an abundance of right wing lunatics on talk radio simplified my mission immeasurably. The great and unforgettable humiliation of America will bring on a great consummation which will usher in a millenium of peace.

Processing a nearly lost play by Dorothy Heyward

Many years ago, I researched a play dramatizing the two Supreme Court cases preceding the Trail of Tears. That research required a reading of the seminal 1919 biography of Chief Justice John Marshall by Albert J. Beveridge. In volume 4, p. 382-4, Beveridge briefly outlined an 1823 U.S. District Court case from Charleston, South Carolina - Elkison v. Deliesseline.

At that time, Supreme Court justices presided over Federal District Courts. In that case, Associate Justice William Johnson, a Charlestonian and State's Rights advocate (who had been appointed by Jefferson to obstruct the Federalism of Marshall), struck down a draconian state law restricting the movements of free people of color. As in the civil rights cases of the 1950's, Johnson cited Article One, Section 8 of the Constitution - the commerce clause - as the basis for upholding the rights of Henry Elkison, a free person of color.

I filed this in the back of my mind as a promising dramatic subject. A few years later, when I came back to it, I finally recognized the obvious connection of the case to the Denmark Vesey slave uprising of 1822. Initial research - a 1935 scholarly article by Philip Hamer in the Journal of Southern History and a very readable 1983 essay by Scott W. Stucky in the North Carolina Central Law Review - made the connection crystal clear. The slavocracy of South Carolina, terrified by the Vesey conspiracy, turned to the legislature for extreme police measures to control the servile population. They sought to insure that their slaves never happened upon a free person of color. That very freedom was deemed seditious.

I sought out biographies of Denmark Vesey - by Donald R. Egerton, William Freehling, John Lofton and David Robertson. That raised some interest in Vesey's co-conspirators, especially Gullah Jack. I contacted (via e-mail) Susan R. Silverman (Gullah Jack's biographer) at Winthrop College. Dr. Silverman alerted me to an article in the Charleston Courier reviewing the treatment of Vesey in the performing arts. That article enlightened me to the existence of Dorothy Heyward's play Set My People Free, a dramatization of the Vesey Rebellion. (DuBose Heyward, incidentally, was a descendant of Nathaniel Heyward, one of the judges for the kangaroo court which convicted Vesey.) Quickly, it became apparent that my play would be shaped by the content and quality of the earlier play by this Heyward woman.

I set out to find the play. I read James M. Hutchisson's biography of DuBose Heyward. While reading this book, I supplemented the information with internet searches. One of those searches dredged up an entity called the DuBose and Dorothy Heyward Memorial Fund. The Trustee for the Fund is Mr. Albert Cardinali of Thacher, Proffitt and Wood, L.L.P. Naturally, I assumed that the Fund would have a copy of the play. Confidently, I contacted Mr. Cardinali. Unfortunately, the firm's offices at the World Trade Center were destroyed on 9/11. None of the attorneys were killed, but the papers of the 150 year old establishment were destroyed, Set My People Free among them.

I continued my search with the inter-library loan department of my local library. The best information suggested that only two copies of the play existed on the entire planet - one at the South Carolina Historical Society (with an alternate title, Charleston, 1822) and one at the Detroit Public Library. The SCHS was willing to photo-copy the play at 25 cents per page. After a long week, the script was in my hands. It was obvious to me, unfortunately, that that copy was an early draft.

Now, I was down to one last hope - the Detroit Public Library, which promptly informed my librarian that the play could not be lent to me under any circumstances. Clearly, it was time to call in the cavalry - Mr. Cardinali. Within a week, the script was in my hands. It looked like a final draft (excepting a long scratched-out section), complete with properties list. I spent the next few weeks processing the script. It has been rescued.

Propinquity

I drive a school bus for Jefferson County. The massacre at Columbine High School hit close to home. I know several staff members, two going all the way back to our days as students at Lakewood High School. I transported Coach Sanders to numerous games. I worked with Cassie Bernall's grandparents at the South Area terminal for the better part of ten years. And Cassie rode my bus during her middle school years.

I learned that Cassie was one of the victims the day after. I barely reacted. I had not seen her in three years. Her grandparents, Shirley and Bernie, had retired and moved away about the time that Cassie had moved into the Columbine attendance area.

After awhile, I remembered Cassie's first day in 7th grade. She was just a name on my student roster. On her way out, she asked whether I knew her grandparents. Now the name Cassandra 'Bernall' meant something. "Your Shirley's granddaughter?" I said. "Yes," she smiled. When I returned to the terminal, Shirley asked, "Did my granddaughter ride your bus, this morning?"

"Yes, she introduced herself. Cute kid." Shirley smiled and I smiled, saying, "Poor Cassie. She'll never get away with anything on my bus." We both laughed.

On the Wednesday evening after the shooting, about 11:00, I started wondering whether Shirley and Bernie might wonder about her last moments - how someone so innocent could face up to such consummate evil. Tears welled up in my eyes and I forced the thought away. Eventually, I fell asleep.

On the Thursday morning, my mother showed me the picture of Cassie (at the bottom of page one of the Rocky Mountain News) reporting her last words. One of the lost boys (supposedly) asked her, "Do you believe in God?" And Cassie replied, "Yes, I believe in God." Then, he blasted her life away. I muttered, "Poor Cassie." Then, I walked through the garage where Bernie had been the lead mechanic for years. I put my hand over my face as I walked past the guys. I went into their restroom, stood in the mechanic's shower, and wept bitter tears, powerless to turn the clock back to Tuesday morning.

The police estimated that there were 8000-10,000 pieces of evidence at the high school. The building would remain a crime scene for at least a month, probably longer. So, the School Board had to decide what to do with the remainder of Columbine's school year. They chose to use Chatfield High School's building from 1:00-6:00. Naturally, the kids needed Transportation. The dispatcher, Louise, tacked an evening take-home onto my route.

On May 3rd, the kids returned to school. As I turned onto Chatfield Avenue, I couldn't help but notice a bunch of tents across Simms Street - the media lying in wait. Numerous police effected a healthy respect for the campus boundary, but I still felt a touch of paranoia. I made sure my turn into the parking lot was perfect.

Two kids boarded the bus around 5:30. The bell rang at 6:00 and my bus started to fill. I left at 6:10 with about 35 passengers. They were all new to me. Due to the media presence, the police would not allow me to turn left onto Simms. I noticed the kids looking across the street. As we got away from the school, conversation started to pick up. A girl right behind me, a Senior, told the kid next to her that she expected a phone call from a counselor that night. Apparently, she felt hugged out when a teacher tried to hug her earlier in the day. Later, the teacher said something she did not like. She stormed out of class.

It is my habit to frequently check the overhead mirror. About half the kids were talking quietly one to one. The other half stared out the windows. The engine is in the back of the bus, so I could hear some of what was being said. Several conversations seemed to drift and float around the horrible event. But, it was not the only subject.

I dropped off my last two kids. Turning onto Pierce Street, my eyes welled up. I fought back tears, source unknown, and returned to the terminal. I clocked out, telling Louise, "There are some hurting units on that bus."

The next day, the press disappeared. I mentioned that observation to the first two kids, Doug and Karen, as they got on. They were both glad. I went back to reading my book and listening to KVOD, our Classical station.

Something started Karen talking. Her mother died three years ago. Her father's present address and disposition are unknown. Her aunt brought her up from Texas to get her out of a 'bad school.' She had been attending Columbine for less than two weeks when the massacre occurred. She may have been one of the last three kids saved by Coach Sanders. She also mentioned that her sister teaches in Jonesboro, Arkansas - at the school where the previous school shooting took place. Stunned, I said, "How did the press miss you?" She told me that her sister called, instructing to keep her mouth shut - otherwise the press would make both of their lives miserable.

One day during the second week, my eyes were drawn to an especially pretty, unusually curvaceous brunette leaving for the school parking lot. She looked familiar. Then, I heard a voice call out, "Bae!" She turned and I remembered her. Like Cassie, she had attended Carmody Middle School before moving into the Columbine attendance area.

One of the ugliest incidents ever to occur on my bus involved Bae. She had bloomed early. Like most girls that age, she went through 2 or 3 'boyfriends' per month. One boy - a very big football player (235 lbs. of 14-year old baby fat and muscle) - did not take well to being put on waivers when she began 'going out' with a boy from her church. The big boy's half brother decided to get even.

The bus arrived at Carmody one morning. Bae, on the verge of tears, came up after every else got off. She carried some pennies with her. She said some kids had been throwing them at her during the ride - sending a message that they regarded her as a cheap whore.

I took the pennies and promised to deal with it. I inspected the bus and picked up all the pennies (26 in all), put them in a sandwich bag, and took them to a counselor. I explained all I knew and let the school investigate. At the end of the day, seven kids (five of them, girls) were kicked off for two weeks. But, none of the kids had the courage to finger the two half-brothers. They were not kicked off.

The mother of one of the kids who was kicked off could not believe that her son was involved. "He likes Bae," she said. I told her that I was disappointed with her son, but not terribly surprised. "Why," she asked. "He's securing his social credentials for next year. He thinks he'll need protection at Bear Creek," I replied. She still could not believe that her son could be so cruel for such a petty reason. "I'm sure he felt terrible. And I know that Bae will forgive him. But we can't let this pass without consequences."

Now, it's two years later. One day, as I walked back to the bus from Wendy's, I saw Bae again. She's still the prettiest girl in braces that you'd ever want to see. We walked back together. She told me about her day on April 20th. She ran from the commons to the library when the shooting began. Somehow, she made her way to the auditoreum and out of the school. She failed to mention that she witnessed the murder of Isaiah Shoals.

On Friday, May 21st, I had to switch buses with another driver. I wound up with his 32-foot mountain bus. My kids loved it! Two boys, in very high spirits, out-yelled everyone for the oldies station, KOOL 105. So, I tuned it there. The disc jockey played some great old songs. As we turned into the neighborhood, Carole King's "Natural Woman" came over the air. The boys sang in full voice, "You make me feel like a na-tu-ral woman!" The girls laughed themselves silly - all except one. One girl, right behind me, held back tears throughout this entire fun ride. I knew she would get off at the first stop, so I stood up to look straight at her and say, "have a nice weekend." She smiled. But, she's hurting.

The "Natural Woman" boys got off at the same stop. They high-fived me as they got off - all because I had let them sing. Kids are funny. They put me in a good mood, then give me the credit.

At the next stop, I asked a few girls for the name of the unhappy girl. Nobody knew her. They did not grow up with her. They thought she may have moved into the neighborhood just before the horrible event.

I dropped off the last kid at his house. As I was coming out of the neighborhood, I heard another driver announce (over the C.B. radio) that she had to return to the school for disciplinary reasons. I knew her bus was packed, as she was covering two routes. The dispatcher decided to send two buses to meet her back at the school. I volunteered.

When I returned to the school, I recognized one of my kids limping around in an ankle cast. I asked her name and why she had missed the bus. She - Dani - told me that she had been in a meeting. And now, she could not get anyone at home. I told her I would take her home after we sorted out the problems with the other bus. About ten minutes later, I had 35 kids aboard. I took them home first. Then, I took Dani home.

Dani is a basketball player, so she knew Coach Sanders well. She fled from the commons when the shooting started. She ran for a stairwell with at least a hundred other kids. The kids were falling all over each other, so Dani and a couple others took the responsibility of getting those being trampled back on their feet. Then, she made her way out, running for dear life. She had never run so hard for so long. She ran to a friend's house where a few dozen kids had congregated.

I felt awkward, like apologizing for my generation's neglect of her generation. Instead, I told her that when I went to high school, the only security we needed was the threat of being sent to Mr. Brownlee's office. She smiled.

Dani is tired of the sympathy. The gifts are all very nice, but it's time to move on. I asked her about her stuff in the school. She said the Administration notified everyone that backpacks and other property will be returned by messenger.

"Oh! They won't allow you back in the school?"

"Some kids want to walk through before they remodel. For closure."

I asked whether she want to see the school before the remodel. She said she wants to see it, but will understand if the Board won't allow it.

I think the kids should be allowed to walk through if their parents will sign a permission slip. Dani may be right. It could help with closure. (The kids walked through on June 1st.)

On the way home one day, the kids were noticing how many cars had WE ARE COLUMBINE bumper stickers. One of the shell-skocked boys mentioned that he will never go to McDonald's again. "Why?", I asked. "Because they started the WE ARE ALL COLUMBINE bumper stickers. I hate those bumper stickers!" I nodded in agreement.

I had thought the same thing. The kids at the school, their parents and siblings, the faculty and administration - are the Columbine community. The rest of us can sympathize. Some can truly empathize. All of us can wish them well. But, we are not ALL Columbine.

The vicarious connection of some with this horrible event is almost promiscuous. The flood of emotion seems to affect some almost pleasurably. At least it seems that way. I've gotten a real creepy sensation from some women when they talk about it.

Men of my age are immune to this perverse reaction. I've noticed something else, though. Men my age are angry about the massacre - and very eager to point fingers. Most condemn the SWAT teams with cowardice. We also blame the leniency of the criminal justice system. I listened to one guy rant on that theme for awhile. Then, I asked, "What about the dead beat dads?" He looked at me as though I had changed the subject. I explained, "The criminal system, lenient or not, would not matter if fathers were doing their duty." This remark went over like a lead balloon. Sometimes, the hardest thing to see is right in front of one's face.

I wonder how many of my generation feel guilty about the massacre? A recent study shows that parents today spend an average of 22 fewer hours per week with their children than 30 years ago. Does anyone else find that statistic staggering? Imagine! More than 3 hours of parental supervision per day has vanished!

One of the lost boys was the son of an Air Force colonel with a glittering record. The other lost boy, the son of a Jewish mother, worshipped Adolf Hitler. The young man who sold them the assault pistol is the son of parents involved in the gun control movement. The boy who filmed the video of the dry run is the son of the lead FBI investigator. Does anyone discern a pattern here? These kids all seem to be saying, "Hey! Screw your careers and ambitions! Take a look at me for once!"

Good parenting can prevent even a born sociopath from wreaking such a tragedy. Three more hours per day of parental supervision might have led a parent into a garage which had been turned into a bomb factory.

The shell-shocked kids sit in the front of the bus. Three boys, in particular, have gotten my attention. One day, I overheard one say, "I was the only one at my table who wasn't shot." The other two went to a counseling session on a Sunday. They arrived early and were asked to consume some time in the bathroom - for confidentiality reasons. The counselors apparently wanted the previous clients to sneak out unnoticed. The boys surmised that the previous clients had been accomplices to the lost boys.

On Monday, May 24th, the kids told me there had been a bomb scare. Some dumb kid had decided that it would be funny to start a rumor about a bomb in the school. Parents heard and rushed to the school. Several kids started crying as soon as they heard the rumor. One of my kids admitted that she had reacted that way. Dani said her stomach knotted up immediately. The shell shocked group in front got that hunted look in their eyes. They started breathing faster.

I asked whether the school had caught the dope who started the rumor. They nodded. I suggested that the perfect punishment would be for the jerk to have to bare his butt and bend over while every student in the school gave him one solid blow with a ping pong paddle. The kids laughed and their breathing subsided. Such punishment would probably bring all bomb scares to a screeching halt. Public humiliation from one's peers is a wonderful tonic for a bad sense of humor.

Wednesday, May 26th was their last day. I won't see any of them again, unless they happen to be transported with a team or band to a game or musical competition. I made no special effort to learn their names. As I pulled up to the first stop, I got on the p.a. and said, "I hope the world steps back and lets you guys have a carefree summer." One of the boys seemed offended, "Carefree?" I said nothing. The remark stands on its own (lack of?) merit. But several of the girls - as they exited the bus for the last time - eyes glistening, made a point of saying, "Thank you."

John Ciardi once said, "Who says only artists suffer. Adolescence is enough suffering for anyone." These kids have filled their quota.

The Argument for a Principled Accommodation

Dear Mr. Brooks,

Among clever, witty co-workers (Maureen Dowd and Tom Friedman), on Meet the Press, you made the funniest statement. And like most insightful comedy, your remark sprang from tragedy. "In my black moments," you said, "I sometimes think President Bush is the Manchurian Candidate sent to discredit everything I believe in." As a registered Libertarian, I share some of your pain. Yet, without major party affiliation to bind and blind me, I quickly perceived the war mongering of this Administration. I never bought into the neo-con self-delusion of spreading Democracy, at gunpoint, throughout the Islamic World. What an excursion into the stratosphere of wishful thinking!

There are four basic responses to the challenge of Islamic Fundamentalism.

1) Capitulation.
2) Religious War
3) A Principled Accommodation
4) Victory

Capitulation should not be taken seriously. The Islamic Fundamentalists, though they may fantasize about exterminating us, do not wish to rule us. They do not want such depraved, secular people to experience the joys of their Caliphate.

Religious Warfare is a distinct possibility. I am sure that Pat Robertson, between selling his diet shake and praying for John Paul Stevens to die, dreams of a War of Civilizations. Frankly, I do not see anything in that for me and the secular majority. Focus on the Family's utopia too closely resembles the Caliphate. And after all these millenia of religious extremism, God must yearn for a secular world, don't you think? How many hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of people have been butchered in God's name? This continuous stream of sanctified blood, century after century, surely has convinced God that we are too primitive to comprehend Him. Don't you think?

A Principled Accommodation with the Islamic World can be pulled off by men of good faith. (Lying about WMD to justify a blood for oil foreign policy does not quite pass muster as good faith.) Yet, such an Accommodation, realistically, must include a Jeffersonian-style Embargo. The traditional societies of the Islamic World are de-stabilized by all of our garbage - the music, the movies, the halter tops, the blue jeans, etc. etc. etc. We must help those countries keep the garbage out. That, of course, means an even more enormous trade deficit. So be it.

Victory means sacrifice. High Taxes. Conscription. Etc. We haven't the stomach for such sacrifice. (And, as a Libertarian, such sacrifice defies my principles.) The necessary instrument to achieve Victory - an elected, representative and sovereign United Nations - does not even exist. Americans are not the only ones unwilling to sacrifice the graven images of Nationalism just to achieve Victory over the Caliphate.

The Bush Doctrine - defying and castigating the World to impose Democracy on Iraq at gunpoint - cannot achieve Victory. The necessary means to achieve the stated ends add up to an UnPrincipled Accommodation with the Islamic World.

Will we ever work off this angst over 9/11 and start Thinking?