Monday, August 22, 2005

In The Words of Aunt Nora,"Kifaaya"! Ms. Sheehan

I really don’t discuss politics on my blog that often because so many other people in the kingdom of blog do it way better case in point, Egyptian Sand Monkey and Miss Mabrouk along with a whole slew of blogs and news sources I haunt.

But anywho the big thing seems to be Cindy Sheehan and her stalking of the president. I feel for this woman. I may make jokes about her hair because I’m PMS’ing right now and discovered thanks to Egytian Sand Monkey that there’s river of chocolate in Iraq my ass is missing out on. Damn I knew I should I have gone back to my army recruitment office after they called to let me know they’d found my paper work and if I came back I could leave in a few weeks to basic training. Whewww that was right after I graduated from High School way back in 2000 sure dodged that bullet didn’t I ?

Anyway since everyone and their uncles chimp is making a comment about Ms. Sheehan and Camp Casey I’m going to throw my 7 cents in from Camp Mia (I’m taking inflation into account) . Like I said I feel sorry for this woman, I feel compassion for her pain. She started out with a noble cause born out of her grief. Which seems to be going the way of Hamlet’s grief now. I don’t what it is to lose a child and all that it entails. But I imagine it is a pain that never goes away. If it had been my mom she would have protested the war in her own way and not allowed people to put their hands up her butt and make her into a puppet. But my mom never would have exploited the memory of her child the way Ms. Sheehan unwittingly ( I hope) is allowing those surrounding her to do. In her unbearable grief Ms. Sheehan looked at the poster boy for ADHD and decided it was his fault her son died.


Granted it was Bush The Younger who pushed us into this war under the guise of searching for WMD, however let’s be real here. Her son God bless his soul knew what he was getting into when he signed up for the military. It doesn’t matter if you sign up during a time of peace. The fact is hola! one day we may go to war, and who do you think is going to do the fighting? Certainly not the president and his funky fresh crew. It's all the kids who signed on the dotted line. I was aware of this the day I walked into the recruiting station and began the steps to join the army. As has my family and the many generations of them who have made the military their careers. Fate had other plans for me it seemed.

Ms. Sheehan has let this get totally of out control. There was no need for the circus she has around her to have pitched their tents. All she’s missing is the clown with the red nose and the juggling dwarves. Some would argue that the clown is sitting in the white house and Cheney is the head juggler. Bush should have handled this different from the onset. He should have met with the woman for a few minutes. What’s that when you consider the loss of her child and the pain she must be in. Fine I understand he met with her before but sometimes as grief settles some of may need something extra a little more time. If Ms. Sheehan felt as strongly about this war as my mom she would have never met Bush The Younger at all. She wouldn't have wanted to hear his words of comfort or even demand an explanation. No words of comfort or explanation are going to bring the kid back. My mom wouldn't have trusted herself she would've snuffed Bush The Younger right then and there and gotten her Rican butt hauled off to jail. However not everyone is like my mom some people need to expound on their grief. Some people are swept away by it and cloak themselves in it. I think if he had met with her from the beginning she would have been on her way , gone back home and still had the media circus but at least would have been home and probably mounted a campaign for elected office. She says that her concern is that of a mother. Yet she seems to have forgotten that she has a son who is alive and I’m sure he needs her too.

Oh yeah and another thing if I hear one more person say the soldiers are out there fighting for my freedom I’m going to heffa slap some one. I live in NYC not in Iraq if any soldiers want to protect me please meet me on the platform of 125th street at midnight tonite (downtown)right where the front car of the number 6 train stops. I’m going to be riding into some dangerous train stations which thanks to our beloved MTA and their dumbass rhetoric have no token booth clerks watching the stations. I could use the protection especially late at night.

So in the words of my Aunt Nora when Uncle Hassan and I are beating the crap out of each other as she tries to have a conversation with us , “Kifaaya!” (enough) in the words of my mom when Uncle Hassan and I are arguing over whether Methad stands a chance with chicken head Marwa , “No joda mas na!” ( stop jerking around) now that you’ve returned home due to your mother’s stroke stay there Ms. Sheehan the dead are at peace now it’s the living that need you at the moment.



Posted by @ 2:04 PM
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