So here we are again

I stayed up most of the night — mainly because of ongoing mouth pain — but also to watch the humble beginnings of Gulf War II. I had a brief moment of memory of a time, 12 years ago, when the air strike began for the original Desert Storm. I was with a friend, studying in his basement, when the TV news reports started exploding. The liberal that I was, I was pissed off about the war, but my friend explained that sometimes, force is needed to maintain some sort of equilibrium. And he was right, but a part of me looks back today and wonders what if Dubya’s daddy had finished the job? What if he had found a way to oust Hussein and bin Laden before they would go on to terrorize their citizens as well as our own? Would I be as terrified to step on a plane tomorrow as I am, or would the thought of domestic terrorism never enter my mind?

Unfortunately, we struck last night (or early morning over there) in hopes of bombing Saddam into the fiery pits of hell, but new reports are saying that he is alive and well. Then again, he is a clever, sniveling little bastard — he supposedly has several look-alikes that he sends out into public. He’s probably in a cave, jerking off bin Laden while the rest of us are hoping for their deaths.

Blogging will be light to nonexistent for me for the next two weeks, due to travel and lack of Internet access, but I’m sure a million others will provide blow-by-blow reports and commentary. I just hope I live to read it when I return in April. I hear that Anaheim and D.C. have been declared no-fly zones, both of which are my destinations and departure points, and it’s a good thing that security will be uber-tight, but still, it’s unsettling to be forced to go somewhere I don’t want to go, to do something I don’t want to do, for people for whom I don’t want to risk my life. Several hundred of our attendees have canceled, along with at least a dozen presenters. Do they know something we don’t know? Town Crier said they’re all a bunch of wimps — that they are afraid for nothing. (Lest I remind you that the Town Crier is a fucking moron.)

I understand that the Academy Awards are going on as scheduled, too. WTF? Didn’t we just have like eight award shows already this year? How many fucking self-congratulatory events do these assholes need? So they read some lines and wore costumes and cosmetics designed for them — why the hell are they awarded? Millions of people work harder and for a mere fraction of what those ego-trips-on-ice earn, and do they get stupid little statues and five minutes in front of a camera? Shit, Julia Roberts spends more on a dress for one wearing than I earn in a whole year. That ain’t right. Please make these actors stay home, out of respect or safety or whatever it takes to get them away from my television screen.

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