Posted on 03/07/2003 5:12:03 PM PST by MadIvan
Is there a columnar equivalent of Viagra? I mean, I started writing about impending war with Iraq in late September 2001 and, after 18 months, I'm beginning to flag. I don't think I've had a new thought on Iraq in months. I agree with what I said about toppling Saddam in The Sunday Telegraph way back on September 27, 2001. Don't bother looking it up. I've said the same words in a slightly different order a gazillion times since and, even taking the President at his word that this is Saddam's last last chance, that still gives me three weeks or so to say it another half-dozen times.
This is the Mesopotamian desert of punditry. I've been parched of fresh opinion for months, and the damn mirage of war shimmering on the horizon never gets any nearer.
The only consolation is that the anti-war crowd is having an even harder time keeping it up than I am. The "human shields" are leaving Iraq, disenchanted after discovering that their Iraqi "co-ordinators" wanted to deploy them not at "humanitarian" facilities but at military bases. One fellow said he was used to working with young children and would have preferred to be deployed at an orphanage. Pity the poor Iraqi official who had to explain to the guy that the orphanage has already got all the human shields it needs: they're called "orphans".
The bewildered Brit seemed to find this hard to follow: here's a man who's convinced that Bush and Rumsfeld are slavering to drop a bunch of daisycutters on Iraqi moppets, but thinks they'll cease and desist just because some droning Welsh Leftist is sitting among all those inviting underage targets.
Even more telling than the human shields scramming out of town is the alarming failure of recent "naked protests" to get naked. Many of my fellow warmongers have mocked the nude protests mounted by the women of California's Marin County, cruelly pointing out that many of the bits on show are excessively saggy. But I'll take what I can get. If we have to have an incoherent, anti-Western "peace" movement, then women showing off their hooters in support of a culture that would stone them to death for showing off their ankles is about as good as it's gonna get.
But, even by the impressive standards of risibility demonstrated by the "peace" movement, has there ever been a sadder "naked protest" than that staged this week by the students of Illinois Wesleyan University? The male "nudes for peace" stood around wearing their boxer shorts and, worse, little white ankle socks and sneakers. C'mon, guys, why so shy about letting us inspect your weapons of mass destruction? According to the UN resolution on nude protesting, it's a material breach to put material over your breech. If you don't want to take it off, maybe you should skip the naked thing entirely, stay inside and read up on what's the Saudi capital.
Meanwhile, the celebrities keep yakking on, despite a poll indicating that celebrities pontificating on the war doesn't change the public's attitude to war, only to the celebrity. So the Screen Actors' Guild is now worrying about a new "blacklist" against anti-war celebrities. No such blacklist exists. But it seems a mite inconsistent to use your celebrity status to advance your politics and then complain that your politics is impacting your celebrity status. Here, for example, is elderly rocker Chrissie Hynde on stage the other day:
"Have we gone to war yet?'' she asked sarcastically. ``We -------' deserve to get bombed. Bring it on.'' Later she yelled, ``Let's get rid of all the economic s--- this country represents! Bring it on, I hope the Muslims win!"
Fair enough. But, if this sort of thing makes some of us less enthusiastic about buying Miss Hynde's albums or watching Martin Sheen's television show, it's hard to see why their corporate masters shouldn't take it into account. As Miss Hynde would say, that's the economic s--- this country's all about.
So the longer this non-war goes on, the more exhausted the pitiful narcissism of the "peace" poseurs looks. But even the non-trivial types are feeling the strain. At the Arab League meeting in Cairo, Colonel Gaddafi and Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah almost came to blows. "Your grave awaits you!" Abdullah told Gaddafi just before Egyptian television pulled the plug.
In Qatar a couple of days later, the Kuwaiti foreign minister denounced the Iraqi vice-president as "an infidel and a charlatan" and the Iraqi responded by telling the Kuwaiti: "Shut up, you monkey. Curse be upon your moustache." This is less offensive than "I fart on your beard" (a traditional Arabic expression of ill-will), but only just. A couple more Arab League get-togethers and they'll be tearing each other's facial hair out.
I'll be tearing my own out if this goes on another month. This interminable non-rush to non-war is like a long, languorous, humid summer, where everyone's sweaty and cranky and longing for the clouds to break and the cool, refreshing rain to fall. Bring it on, please.
No, and I never thought I would see the Frenchy visibly agitated and actually glowing with sweat on his forehead in the interviews later.
I was laughing so hard.
This interminable non-rush to non-war is like a long, languorous, humid summer, where everyone's sweaty and cranky and longing for the clouds to break and the cool, refreshing rain to fall. Bring it on, please.
Funny, I feel almost the same way so, bring it on! LOL.
This whole Iraq War thingy has slowly migrated from a sitzkrieg into a snoozekrieg. The slow-roll has been the perfect vehicle for pulling the phony-patriot skirts off the usual suspects and exposing the tiny bullocks of the sunshine warriors, most notably the souless Democrats and Euroweenies.
GWB is winning round after round and nobody is aware of it!
That said, I wish we would get it on before summer eventually gets here or North Korea decides to forgo it's manic shock-treatments for the real Armageddon.
This is great! Something "culturally sensitive" to chalk onto our bombs and missiles in addition to the always-fitting "DIE, SCUM!".
I'd like to see that expression written out in arabic script, but nobody on the receiving end will live long enough to read the message, anyway.
Pinging the Steyn list.
Their mothers were hamsters, and their fathers smelt of elderberries!
Mark Steyn (and Monty Python) bump!
ROFLMAO! Steyn is priceless.
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