Memorial

I listened to George Bush propagandize last night on the radio. I listened in fits and starts. I would put down the dish I was washing, storm into the living room and switch the damn thing off, muttering, "s'all fucking bullshit--fantasy land..." A few minutes later I would re-enter the room quietly and switch it back on. I thought that perhaps he might glib something out about something or another domestic. He tricked me. Never happened.

I imagine that there are men today with tidy hair thinking back fondly on the patriotic words of their commander in chief, wondering what more they can do besides just keep an eye on those swarthy suspects around town and that there are women today who secretly got off last night while their husbands slept, thinking of ole W explaining the national security emergency that requires that he put it in her "behind" while the Secret Service looks on. She feels better this morning. She's quite chipper. She's looking forward to church on Sunday.

Meanwhile, this morning, I'm wondering how I might build a huge statue or memorial to all the arms and legs lost in Iraq, in bronze. There will be this wonderful pile of bronze arms, legs, feet hands and fingers with quite rough detachment points, and inscribed underneath, the words:

"Your Country Will Really Try, We Swear, To Fund The VA Hospitals You Will Desparately Need For The Next Forty Years Or So. And We Promise Not To Stare."