— March, 2013 – I stumbled across this post from October, 2008, as I was going through the archives. It provides a brief explanation, for anyone with interest, why I started writing about all this political stuff —
A thought occurred to me this morning. It’s entirely plausible I’ve given some the impression that I’m “All Politics — All The Time!”
I wish to clarify.
My concern for things political is a fairly recent phenomenon in my life, but considering what has transpired during the last, nearly-eight years, not a surprising turn.
As some of you may know, I served in both the Navy and the Army, and have strong, positive feelings about our military. (There are a few negative ones stuck in there as well, but that’s another essay.) And even though I don’t live in a small town, I consider myself a fairly patriotic guy, and — surprise! — pro-American. That being said, when I consider the things the Bush Administration has done under our banner, (and mostly under our radar), I get more than a little steamed. Since I’m not a proponent of coups ďétat, I must find some way to express my angst. Thus, I started following the news with increased interest. Eventually, I discovered Internet sites that do a fairly good job of attributing their sources and that provide a bit of background to their biases. For what it’s worth, I think it’s absolutely imperative to provide attribution. Give the source, name and date, or discard the quote.
I can remember my initial thought the first time I observed candidate George W. Bush on television, see here, here and here. That was in 2000, and my political leanings were still rather conservative. I had no ax to grind with the guy.
I thought he was an imbecile.
After the election, I thought it a good thing Charlie McCarthy had Dick Cheney as his Edgar Bergen. Cheney was a bit long in tooth, but very adept at working Washington, or so the story was told. I had no idea HOW adept. I didn’t pay much attention to George until September 11, 2001. I was surprised, as hour after hour passed, that our president hadn’t communicated with us. I figured . . . hoped . . . he’d been stuffed into a safe-house someplace, and just couldn’t address the nation. (The video displaying his six-minute, deer in the headlight response to “The country is under attack!” while reading a book to some school kids had yet to be released in the media.) When he did finally peek out, he gave, finally, what I thought was a stirring address, and I rallied around. I even wrote a letter to him, (yes, I really did), asking to be put to some useful task. (No, he didn’t write back, which was probably for the best. Crayon on White House stationery would’ve disturbed me.) When he did get around to expressing some leadership, George encouraged us to go shopping. I asked myself, “WTF?”, but I still gave the guy my support. He was, after all, our president, and we’d just been attacked.
In the months leading up to our invasion of Iraq, I grew more and more concerned and disenchanted by the things I observed and read. And right before the assault, I remember thinking, “These guys (Bush, Cheney, et al) are gonna’ be in a world of hurt if they don’t find any weapons of mass destruction.
Oh yes, I can be just as naive as the next guy.
The rest of this explanation can be guessed at. The more I continued to read, the wider my eyes grew, and like an infection deep in one’s bowels, my discontent flourished. After much research and discovery, I came to the only conclusion I could conceptualize: I’d been had. Duped. Taken for a ride. Punked. (Actually, another, somewhat coarser term first popped into mind, but that was from my military days, and I’ll keep this polite.)
I felt like a jackass.
Once again taken for a ride into an unjust, unnecessary war that slaughtered countless innocents, and tossed our military into a bloody sausage grinder; by a bunch of chicken-hawk punks.
We, America, thought we had learned. It’s obvious now that we hadn’t. And we still haven’t.
The real rub of all this is pretty basic. I feel as though the world has been made a more dangerous place because of the willful, criminal acts of the Bush Administration. I have kids. And when you include partners, grandkids, and friends, I have quite a large, extended family. And now I grow concerned, because their futures have been compromised by a nincompoop who is surrounded by wicked, greedy and inept ideologues. I feel compelled to do something to fight back; to protect my family. It’s my nature. I’m too old to rejoin the military, and I have no interest in pursuing a career in politics.
But I can write.
Thus, I find myself writing to and sharing with whomever will grant me pardon, and a moment of their time. It’s my way of doing battle with the forces of evil.
I dearly look forward to the time when the danger I perceive is made smaller, when decent people less inclined to ideology, corruption, and political lock-step, are sitting in the powerful places. Credulous? Probably. I’ve long recognized I’m more than a bit of an idealist. However, I believe such a thing can happen, but only if we try.
In the meantime, I do write about other things in which I take delight, things such as humor, philosophy, family, and friendship. I spend time composing and listening to music. My beautiful wife and I take walks downtown, she snapping photos and I staying out of the damned way. We frequent a coffee shop or two, and ride our bikes around the neighborhood. With the onset of Fall, we can now sit in the glow of the seasoned, oak logs crackling in our fireplace, sip our wine, and tell each other stories about when the kids were young and knuckle-headed. (Well, at least the boys were.) And we have two dogs who are best friends, who wear perpetual smiles, and who make us laugh because they’re dogs. Shepherding the carefree happiness of a brace of animals is a good and wholesome feeling and thing. At least that’s what the dogs say.
So, I hope my clarification will suffice. I’m truly not “All Politics — All The Time!”, but, having experienced Bush/Cheney & Troupe, I suspect I will now always cast a gimlet eye upon those in power.
