Teacher: Rule #1: Don’t kill civilians. Any questions?
Student: Is killing civilians bad?
Teacher: Yes. In every circumstance, killing an unarmed, innocent person is morally and ethically wrong. If there are no further questions, class is dismissed.
Training 130,000 soldiers should take no more than half a day and their course material can be written on post-its.
Next, we’ve got the news that soldiers have killed a pregnant woman being rushed to the hospital. Sure, terrorists have abused the speeding vehicle motif, so precautions have to be taken, and because of that kid who ruined gym class for talking back in second grade, we have been taught that if one person can’t behave, we all get punished. Certainly, there should be some sort of reparations dealt to this family who could have had babies with Saddam in charge.
I’m still looking for good news. I don’t see it at the pump. But that’s selfish of me.
I can’t find good news on this site, which charts the deaths over time of coalition forces.
The president knows things are bad. I haven’t seen anyone try to cover mistakes like this since Aaron Spritz tried to weasel his way out of cheating on that spelling test (once again, in second grade).
Yes, a ruthless, dirty, inconsiderate, brutal, genocidal dictator no longer runs Iraq. But this is not how the war was sold to me. Had it been, even I, pacifist Sam, would have been on board, just like I want F-15s to blaze through the sky over Khartoum and level the perpetrators of the Sudanese genocide. Instead, we were told of big weapons about to level DC and LA and NYC. That math was later found to not add up.
And so we’re in a mess. There’s no easy way out. We now owe Iraq something. But what?
Tomorrow, I’ll be reviewing a book I just finished, “The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical” by Shane Claiborne. One of his most touching chapters recounts his journey to Iraq as a Christian peacemaker, weeping and eating with people as American warplanes dropped bombs near American activists and Iraqi citizens alike.
Meanwhile, we’re stuck in the middle of this quicksand of a predicament. Any wrangling or weaseling seems to drag us in deeper. We desperately need someone to throw us a branch.