October 25, 2003
Fear and Loathing in the US
Shortly after the arrest of a military chaplain at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, on suspicion of espionage, I was listening to a radio program and the host was talking about the role of racial profiling in the military. A Muslim chaplain who had been counseling detainees at Guantanamo Bay was caught with classified documents “that a chaplain shouldn’t have.” These documents included diagrams of the cells and the facilities at Guantanamo where about 600 al Qaeda and other "enemy combatants" are being held by the military.
Should Muslims in America’s military be profiled as a means of possibly detecting those who might be willing to turn their backs on their country and spy for our enemies? Should Muslims be specifically targeted, given the recent arrest of the chaplain (and subsequently two translators) for espionage at Guatanamo Bay? Should Muslims be targeted because it is, after all, Muslims who hate us the most at the moment? I heard arguments for and against. I agreed with arguments on both sides. One man called and said that if you were going to profile Muslims because of who was behind 9/11, you had to profile whatever religion Tim McVeigh belonged to because of the atrocity he committed against his country in Oklahoma. Fair point. Kind of. I know what he was saying, but while I loathe what McVeigh did as much as I loathe what happened on 9/11, there is a difference. In McVeigh’s case, the issue was not religion, but anti-government sentiment. Now, essentially it’s the same thing. Muslims, and not ALL Muslims for crying out loud, hate us because of what America stands for. They hate our freedom, they hate the ease with which we live our lives. They hate that we can say and do what we want without fear of reprisal from our government or our God. They hate that we are not oppressed, that we are not afraid, and that we love life. They hate these things because they live tough lives. Every day it’s a struggle to stay alive. It’s how they live. They have strong beliefs, very strong beliefs, beliefs they’d die for. But like fundamentalists in this country, if you take a hard look at the core of their beliefs, you’ll discover that those beliefs are flawed because ultimately, they only adhere to what is convenient for them. Rumors abounded regarding the last days of the 9/11 hijackers, the debauchery and alcohol-fueled nights that preceded the devastation of our nation by these supposedly devout Muslims. And I doubt that anywhere in the Muslim belief system does it say that men should rule absolutely over women and treat them as animals, making them hide their faces when they dare step foot outside the home, which by the way they are permitted to do only if accompanied by a male relative. I doubt it says that they should hate their enemies, and use death and destruction as a means of winning a place in heaven. I doubt that it says anywhere that they should use themselves as weapons, sacrificing the sacredness of their own lives to destroy the lives of others.
John Ashcroft scares the hell out of me. From the beginning I’ve questioned this man’s agenda and feared the civil liberties we as Americans will ultimately lose if Ashcroft is allowed to push his agenda unchecked (read: Patriot Act). This country was built on principles that must remain the cornerstone of its existence if we are to survive as a nation. It’s why this country works so well. It’s why we are the melting pot of the world. There are problems to be sure, but ultimately we coexist with one another, believing that freedom from tyranny, freedom to live life to the fullest is our God-given right. America has its flaws, but martyrdom in the name of religion, thinking so little of your own life that you are willing to sacrifice it to a make a point that will ultimately be lost in the translation, are things that we just don’t understand. The very definition of jihad, holy war, is an oxymoron. We simply cannot wrap our collective minds around such a concept.
Racial profiling is not exactly new in this country. We did it to the Japanese during World War II. We did again to those thought to be Communists in the 1940s and ‘50s…remember The House Un-American Activities Committee? And unofficially we started doing it again after 9/11. Who among us didn’t start taking a harder look at darker skinned individuals sitting beside us on a plane or bus? Who among us didn’t do a double-take when someone in a veil or turban passed us on the street. I know myself that my first response after the attacks was that we needed to close the damn borders and stop letting “these people” in. I’m ashamed that those thoughts ran through my head. Fear has been the motivating factor in all these circumstances, and I’m not saying these were irrational fears and responses, but they do go against all that this great nation stands for.
So, what do I think of profiling in the military. I honestly don’t know. My gut response is to say, “Hell yes, better safe than sorry.” After all, if you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to fear. But is that the reality of the situation? What happens when a disgruntled soldier spreads some tales about a fellow soldier, leading authorities to examine the latter’s life so thoroughly and inevitably so publicly that it ruins the person’s career and life? You can be as innocent as it gets, once someone suspects you of being in any way connected to the type of people that brought our country briefly to its knees, you might as well pack it up. There is no turning back from that kind of suspicion once it is heaped on your shoulders. You will carry that weight forever. On the other hand, what if by profiling those who are most likely to hurt us, we deter another attack. What if arresting the chaplain an the two translators stopped a whole new terrorist plot in its tracks? What if this is what we need to be safe, and if hurts some people in the process, well, we’ll apologize, pat you on the back, and send you on your way. I don’t know. I just don’t know. Above all, I want to feel safe again. I need to feel safe again. The uncertainty that has haunted me since 9/11 is wearing thin, and I want to feel as I did on September 10, 2001, before the world became this scary place, full of uncertainty and hate. I know that it was only that way in my mind because I was lucky enough to have been born into a place that lived well and feared no one. I know that the world has always been a scary place, full of uncertainty and hate, to far too many people. I understand this now, and my heart breaks because of it.
October 24, 2003
Card Games
Via CNN, courtesy of Vanessa Rumaz-Boyd, comes word of a new card deck of the "52 Most Dangerous American Dignitaries" from Reseau Voltaire (Voltaire Network):
I love the Bush card. The only president ever (s)elected...
I was talking with someone the other day about government contracting. We were talking about strategies for obtaining contracts. "Have your former CEO become Vice President ofthe United States," I said. "That seems to work."
October 21, 2003
Oh, those whacky Catholics
The Catholic Church is telling people in countries stricken by AIDS not to use condoms because they have tiny holes in them through which the HIV virus can pass - potentially exposing thousands of people to risk.
The church is making the claims across four continents despite a widespread scientific consensus that condoms are impermeable to the HIV virus.
In other news, the Pope is frontrunner to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Because protesting the war negates all that nasty stuff about protecting child molesters and hating gays.
October 19, 2003
Ode to the Red Sox
‘Twas the night before the Series
and all through the place
Sox fans were all dreaming,
whispering prayers into space.
It’s the time we all wait for,
in our team our beliefs lay;
they’ve fought hard and long
for this post-season play.
We’re so proud of our boys,
they’re a team we believe in;
and now it’s the Series
we’re sure that we’ll win.
The games will be tough
but you’ll hear no gripes,
as we face the Yanks,
those terrors in pinstripes.
Game one went to us,
but they took two and three;
it was time for the fans
to all hit their knees.
Our bats were hot,
they were coming alive;
thanks to players like Nomar,
lucky number five.
A collision took place
and poor Johnny saw stars,
it’s accidents like this
that drives fans to the bars.
But Damon came back,
good as new with the rest;
this team is the greatest,
the best of the best.
They give us all hope,
they believe in the dream;
if there’s a Series to win,
it’ll be by this team.
Sox fans were elated,
thinking outside the box;
truly believing
the win would go to the Sox.
“Cowboy up!” was the chant
that rose from the crowd.
We Sox fans are loyal,
and so very proud.
But Yanks fans are ruthless
and our bubble was burst,
as they called from the bleachers,
“Remember the curse!”
“Bucky Dent and Bill Buckner,”
they sang with sheer glee;
“Not this year,” we roared,
“Pedro, Nomar, and Manny!”
Taunts were tossed
but it was all in good fun,
for Sox fans were confident
that we’d be number one!
Game four went to us,
and it sure felt great;
we knew our team rocked
bar none, was first-rate.
Heading out of Beantown
we had lost number five;
but our hopes were not dashed,
the dream was still alive.
Going into the Bronx
we were all a bit tense,
couldn’t wait to begin,
couldn’t stand the suspense.
Our thoughts traveled back
to the losses over time,
but this team was different,
they were truly prime.
For years we have suffered
under the curse of Babe Ruth;
it can make us real bitter,
at times quite uncouth.
But we love the game
and we just want our chance
to win a World Series
and kick the curse in the pants.
For years it seems
we’ve been number two,
why this is our fate
we haven’t a clue.
Every year it’s the same
no matter what we try;
we fight to the end,
but bid the Series good-bye.
“Next year,” we cheer,
with a grin and sigh,
our hearts truly broken,
but our spirits still high.
It’s the Sox we believe in,
the players we defend;
next year, we believe,
the curse will end.
Game six in New York,
it was touch and go;
but we fought real hard,
we wanted it so.
And then in the ninth
after a fight well fought,
a two-run homer
by right-fielder Trot.
A battle of wills
has led to this place,
a glazed, bleary-eyed look
on each Sox fan’s face.
The games have been close,
we’re up, then we’re down;
we know in our hearts
our boys will rebound.
Finally game seven,
it comes down to this;
a trip to the Series,
a chance we can’t miss.
Into the eleventh,
tied five to five;
we’re not giving up,
we’re staying alive.
The last ball was smacked
deep into the field;
we all held our breath,
the teams’ fates were now sealed.
The ball was hit high
and we all grabbed our hankies,
as the win once again
went to the damn New York Yankees.
October 18, 2003
A Day in the Life...
Seriously?! Are you freakin' kidding me???
October 17, 2003
I Hate Game Sevens
Lucky for me, my breathing has been sufficiently labored by bronchitis so as to necessitate the use of some serious narcotics. As a result, I've watched the last two games under the influence of a combination of drugs taht would be considered illegal in some states.
It's four hours until game time and my stomach is already in knots.
This is the epitome of sports. A seventh game between two rival teams. Do or die. Win or go home. Insert cliche here.
Paul, I share my Tums with you. My last and final gesture of kindness before 8:00 comes and we are mortal enemies again. Take one and pass it on.
