Everything pretty much blows.
by Dwayne Booth (aka Mr. Fish)
Published: Aug 4, 2010
All this pretty significant crap happened last week.
First, on Sunday, there was the release of 92,000 secret military documents, some 200,000 pages from WikiLeaks detailing exactly why the war in Afghanistan might finally be classified, without controversy, as a huge-ass catastrophe of human suffering and an exercise in massive war criminality. Then, on Tuesday, as if the Capitol building itself, having grown bored with its own obsolescent infighting and shiftless partisanship, had traveled back in time to spend a long weekend at the Kremlin in 1979 in order to remember how unifying and invigorating totalitarianism can be, especially when used to target cartoonishly menacing sand negroes, there was the passage of a $59 billion war-funding bill that, among other inexcusable outrages, satisfied the president's request that an additional 30,000 troops be sent to Afghanistan.
"What the fuck for?" I asked my wife, who was busy sorting white Legos from a 32-year-old batch that my sister had recently dropped off to be used for my soon-to-be-7-year-old twin daughters' Lego-themed birthday party. Then I remembered the 200,000 pages leaked from WikiLeaks, relenting, a bit reluctantly, that 200,000 is really a shitload of paperwork. "Maybe by troops the president means typists," I said, just as my one and only set to work filling the kitchen sink with ferociously soapy water in the hopes of scrubbing my cruddy past from the blocks that she so wanted to bring gleaming into the 21st century.
Then came Wednesday morning where, sitting all alone in a sweltering café at Fourth and South streets with espresso in my beard and sweat dripping off my nose, I read the front-page headline in the Inquirer: "A Secretary of State and the Queen of Soul Make Music at the Mann," the story capping a photo of Condoleezza Rice, unconvincingly dressed as a pleasant person, standing on stage next to a triple-decker Aretha Franklin, both of them being lavished with flowers. And that's when it hit me: Everything pretty much blows.
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http://citypaper.net/articles/2010/08/05/the-missing-peace