So Much Fail…

“I don’t see why we need to stand by and watch a country go communist due to the irresponsibility of its people. The issues are much too important for the Chilean voters to be left to decide for themselves.”

-Henry Kissinger, 9/11/73

How did it ever come to this? Perhaps it was the nihilistic vengeance visited upon an innocent peoples by an imperial misadventure run amok. Maybe it was the trademarking and exploitation of innocent death for political gain. I sit here today unable to sympathize, or even care anymore. Whatever it was, the pain it caused and the lives it took away so viciously, it will never be that again.

Whatever the blood debt a society thought it was owed has long since past. Whatever retaliation they had felt necessary has mutated into a nigh unstoppable meat-grinder for both the child and the resistor alike. Those who are guilty still walk free, charged with no crime and increasingly less and less to blame by those who originally sought their head on a proverbial pike. The birth place of civilization now irrevocably stained with blood and littered with depleted uranium shells.

You robbed your people of their grief and sadness. You stole their suffering and their nightmares, then turned it into a thirty second tv spot. You made horror and terror a ‘rallying cry for the base’… and how base they are indeed. You snatched a mother’s quiet anguish and a father’s tears, wholly distorting tragedy into slick propaganda. Your lack of right matched only by your lack of shame.

O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe.

O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of their guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us lay waste to their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!

We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts.

Amen.

-Mark Twain

All I really have left to ask is that you declare me a lunatic who makes no sense as well.