Aquarian Weekly 3/12/03
REALITY CHECK

ABANDONING REASON AT THE FORT

There has been an egregious breech of security here at the Reality Check War Room. The morale of the group is down, and passions have been splintered by the day. This once proud conclave, and its failed dream of finding the sense in this government's foreign doings in the face of a three-front police action has rendered these once hearty souls to back-biting pansies. And unlike many of these anonymous cretins, I have to answer for it.

Our findings have been appearing in this paper and across the globe on the Internet for over a month under my name, and not one of these people have so much as considered the safety of its author. These are desperate times. This country is on the brink of war inside the most volatile region on the planet with little to no international support. Now is not the time for leaks and dissent within the group. Now is the time for rabid solidarity.

But, alas, the local authorities have been alerted to our clandestine barnyard meetings, and all hope of dissecting the truth from a rotting corpse of bullshit has been compromised. Needless to say the floodlights at Fort Vernon have been ordered to stay on until further notice and the digging of the memorial Mr. Kitty Mote has been put on hold.

If I thought for one minute anyone would find us, I surely would not have written the insane shit that has been running in this space lately. This nonsense about Colin Powell taking a dive for the Pentagon or burning flags or seceding from the Union is, of course, all a joke. Satire. Yes, that's what I do best. Poking holes in the hypocrisy of human endeavor with the sharpness of my pen. Sure. It is an art form to be admired, not vitriolic blather to be feared and evidence for restitution.

My fears are real now. Not even Georgetown is answering my calls. There has been a lockdown in Washington for ten months and after that staged kissy-face showcase between the Commander and Chief and the White House press corps its time to prepare for the worst. And God help the next lame bastard who asks a president about Viet Nam every time two American troops meet anywhere. Of course the president thought it a "good question", a troll could have defused it.

Many of our best War Room commandos exited in shame after that dog and pony show last night. The diligent watchdog press has been felled. Objective commentary is dead. In its wake remain only extremists, the woefully confused peace-protesters and the shills for war. There is no more middle ground. Get on board or get out of the fray.

The weaker of us saw it coming last night. And those who were left to listen for the police sirens could only stare into space. We were not prepared for this to get real. We foolishly believed there was hope in knowing the truth, not versions of the truth seen through prisms of political ideology and diplomacy-speak. But it was all a big fuck-around, and now it is done.

I should have heeded my original hesitance to be involved with this charade. Twelve long years of this crap over 17 pointless UN resolutions. It's like watching tapes of old Super Bowls and rooting for the Buffalo Bills. Hussein is not going to surrender and no Bush with the power of the free world is going to let this go without bloodshed.

But before we broke camp, the majority of the remaining warriors decided to be the only journalists to actually print a date when the beginning of end for Saddam Hussein will be. By the time this column hits the streets on 3/12, the first bombs will have fallen in Iraq, and as stated in this space before, the whole thing will be over within the month. That's my beloved mother's birthday. She is the ultimate warrior. It might even be the day some triplets will be born in Syracuse.

I'll be out front finishing this mote. Then we will hope, with everyone else, that Captain Shoe In's vengeance crusade doesn't open up the can of worms his father's failed mission wrought.

Reality Check | Pop Culture | Politics | Sports | Music