Cads and Scoundrels

Recently, fellow friends of Palestine invited a Palestinian woman to a Major League baseball game, a sport that draws fans of all ages. The expression “as American as…” includes a proclivity to demonstrative force. The National Anthem represents just another way to blow a few things up, the celebration of explosions works to favor the celebration of ignorance as well. The American calendar is replete with noisy holidays. Some of this is going on as I type: the fireworks offered domestically and at a planetwide level . They are gathering at a baseball stadium to observe F-16s breaking silence. The Star-Spangled Banner recalls a hell on Earth in the form of War Birds bringing random deth to innocents around the Planet. The Palestinan woman at the Ballpark was not forewarned of the intervention of peace in the sky above. She sought a hiding place where she could  hide and scream. PTSD is the everyday in Palestine, every day. We fund it and keep the insanity at a pandemic level. American bombs rip bodies into flaming pieces of nameless collateral victims of Pax Americana. The discipline of the Spartan members of our military state drops the “bombs bursting in air” to the children of Yemen. The object is to blow up bodies for the furtherance of fear and loathing in a military theater populated by drones. The inaptly named Department of Defense commands a disproportionate share of scientific progress. Drones were first used to drop death from a continent and an ocean away: job one. Using drones to drop Amazon orders had to wait, but capitalism is never far behind. The US Empire sells bright, gleaming works of art that get the job done with a sufficient body count to justify a war theater for our geopolitical friends in Israel and within the family of Saud. Explosions make customers happy. For each bomb exploded, a replacement order is cut. Munitions keep the merchants of death wealthy.

Killing children in the name of Pax Americana

Freedom fighters who drop hell from a blue sky, making the world safe for capitalist hegemonies. A blue sky is chosen because it makes the tracking of innocents into more visible. The joystick may be in an F16 or some such death dispersal device. Or that joystick may be located in a bunker somewhere in a red State. It is dark outside the hole where a soldier sits with headphones and observes the details revealed by the Sun. It also makes it possible to read the fear on the faces that have been assigned death. I understand that the cameras available on a drone are capable of allowing the death dealer to look into the eyes of the target marked for death. PTSD is the most commonly reported response for the brain of the joystick holder. Freedom is not free, it requires the expenditure of many black and brown bodies.

Of course, these bunkers are also located at trusted purchaser sites. The largest of these bunkers is populated by Israeli Occupation Forces located at extremely militarily important geopolitical sites. They are also brought to the field where an “enemy” gets obliterated by projectiles of many forms. Mobile units are strategically located near an apartheid fence/wall/barrier/figment of the imagination. Teams of death dealers decide on the specific methods for delivering humiliation. One popular decision is to aim at a single knee of a young freedom fighter on the inconvenient side of a loathingly enforced apartheid barrier. Maim the young such that they live miserable existences and “stand” as examples for the Israeli Occupation Forces.

I have friends who had invited a Palestinian to a baseball game. As usual, sports and F-16s dropped through the sky to add some thrill to a Star-Spangled Banner that speaks of a hell that gets the expeced resuts for our patriotic War Birds, the gentlemen who bring random death to the most innocent among us.

That Palestinan woman at the Ballpark sought a hiding placewhere she could hide and scream. It is what happens when your entire life is peppered with expendable bombs to waste expendable human units. American bombs rip bodies into flaming portions of nameless collateral value the world over. These are in absurdedly disproportionate war theaters such as Yemen. There, they patriotically blow up bodies to serve as targets in a game called fear and loathing. The US Empire sells these bright, gleaming phallics to get the job done with zero possible retaliation. Black and brown bodies are cheap if you are a freedom fighter who drops hell from a blue sky, making the world safe for capitalist hegemons. A blue sky is chosen because it makes the tracking of innocents: the targets. The joystick may be in an F16 or some other death delivering device. A joystick may be located in a bunker somewhere in a red State. It may be dark outside the hole in which a soldier sits with headphones and observes the details revealed by the Sun that illuminates targets and improves the kill count. It makes it possible to read the fear on the faces that have been dealt a death card. I understand that the cameras available on a drone are capable of allowing the death dealer to look into the eyes of the target marked for death. PTSD is the most commonly reported response for the joystick holder. Of course, these bunkers are also located at trusted purchaser sites. The largest of these bunkers is populated by Israeli Occupation Forces located at geopolitically secure sites. They are brought to the field where an enemy gets assigned a highly probably projectile made in the USA. The mobile units are positioned near an apartheid fence/wall/barrier. Teams of death dealers may decide upon different methods of humiliation dealt to the Palestinians for 73 years and counting. One popular option is to aim at a single knee of a young freedom fighter at an apartheid barrier. Maim them young so that they live unfortunate existences. So far, this has not reduced the number of individuals marked for maiming. The US allocates $3.8 to keep the death-dance cadence. In Israel alone.

Thanks for reading.

One thought on “Cads and Scoundrels”

  1. Bill, it looks like a major edit on this left a large amount of text repeated, slightly spoiling the impact of an otherwise powerful piece.

    Like

Comments drive content, so please comment.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s