I'm certainly not unmindful of the killings of "his own people" (as opposed to America's killings of "Those People" in Iraq and Afghanistan) carried out by Gadhafi. I just don't believe in the "right" of the US Military to intervene anywhere and everywhere it defines it's "Interests" to be at stake. Nor do I believe the US has the moral right to occupy 140 countries with more than 700 military bases.
And, though I am far less knowledgeable about the global legal scene, many observers far more lettered than myself have characterized a lengthy list of US military strikes as clear violations of international law. Noam Chomsky comes to mind.
I relish bringing up the illegality of all US interventions since 1945 mainly in order to add yet more weight to my anti-war position. It never ceases to amaze, the humungous percentage of Americans who are unaware of Congress's specified war-making powers. It's SO satisfying to find the majority of said people are unable to refute THAT argument. You will often be met with apparently befuddled, even embarrassed silence from them.
But there is more. I certainly don't approve of a whole lot of statutes on the books these days. I would like to see each and every prohibition against controlled substances eliminated; they do more harm, by far, than good. But when it comes to the conduct of the world's only Ueberpower, I stongly believe The US Constitution and International Law have their rightful place. I was very much in favor, for example, of the World Court's 1986 ruling, when it found the US in violation for its support of the Contras and the mining of Nicaraguan harbors. Of course I realize that court in The Hague had no EFFECTIVE jurisdiction, but those on the correct side of an issue often have only their moral authority.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
I'll take my desperation LOUD, thank you.
The "Average American" thinks itself superior if it adheres rigidly, tenaciously, to its own dull brand of cultural conformity, of both perception and purpose. The Average American regards itself socially significant if it possesses a "better" $4000bicycle, $60,000 car or $850,000 house. The "Typical American" conflates the casual bonhomie and mundane "wisdom" obtained at its favorite bar with some wondrous, enviable, "well-adjusted" state of gregarious bliss. The "Normal American," finding you occupationally challenged, almost invariably recommends you "do what I do." If it's a carpenter, it will encourage you to be a carpenter. If it works with computers, well you ought to be a highly-compensated nerd, too. Such is their usual level of self-absorption, their utter lack of imagination and empathy. The "Standard-Bearing" American, especially if it's a Young American, is vastly more skilled at debating which musical genre is more worthy, rather than arguing politics, history or religion. Never even mind scientific controversy! They're far too thrilled and defensive about their own willful ignorance to debate anything important. More often than not, the music they defend - to absurd, sometimes even lethal lengths - is by some jerk who screams out in agonized, permanent constipation. Or somebody wailing in a contrived "countrified" twang, or by a machine that generates a perfectly cadenced, mind-mumbing BOOM BOOM.
The "Good, Patriotic" American is generally incapable, in a true sense, of seeking its own self-interest, but can be counted on to support intensely destructive and expensive military intervention - in countries of which it is astonishingly cluless, and where Americans have no business even BEING. Oops, I digressed already; returning to the clown-like American's festishistic material obsession, it is most often NOT satisfied to be an immensely boring collector of THINGS. It finds it necessary to raise eyebrows at anyone who doesn't share its vaunted preoccupation with acquistion for the mere sake of HAVING. Possession for possession's sake gives its "Life" meaning. I suppose, in several notable ways, I too am an Average American. Hopefully, in most respects, I'm NOT. I guess many other affluent "Peoples" share the same fabuously American traits; Style Over Substance. Of course, where there IS any Substance, one might be excused for preferring to contemplate the Style. So I confess: I get a perverse, not completely admirable satisfaction at raising a complex Global or Domestic issue. I love to watch its eyes glaze, just before it flees to the nearest rest room. But you must give credit where it's due; the Average American is a very upbeat, optimistic, positive CREATURE.
The "Good, Patriotic" American is generally incapable, in a true sense, of seeking its own self-interest, but can be counted on to support intensely destructive and expensive military intervention - in countries of which it is astonishingly cluless, and where Americans have no business even BEING. Oops, I digressed already; returning to the clown-like American's festishistic material obsession, it is most often NOT satisfied to be an immensely boring collector of THINGS. It finds it necessary to raise eyebrows at anyone who doesn't share its vaunted preoccupation with acquistion for the mere sake of HAVING. Possession for possession's sake gives its "Life" meaning. I suppose, in several notable ways, I too am an Average American. Hopefully, in most respects, I'm NOT. I guess many other affluent "Peoples" share the same fabuously American traits; Style Over Substance. Of course, where there IS any Substance, one might be excused for preferring to contemplate the Style. So I confess: I get a perverse, not completely admirable satisfaction at raising a complex Global or Domestic issue. I love to watch its eyes glaze, just before it flees to the nearest rest room. But you must give credit where it's due; the Average American is a very upbeat, optimistic, positive CREATURE.
A dream remembered.
Dan Goldstein
's dream, March 31, 2011: Flying on a jet from... somewhere to Madison. But after arrival, it was obvious I was back in Florida. The palm trees were right there on the golf course I was strolling by. At one point I was in Tavernier, a small town just past Key Largo as you head SW from Miami to Key West. Anyway, the Overseas Hoighway expands from two lanes to four there, and I sought a safe place to cross the road. Oops, backtracking now... when I was in the 757 at cruising altitude, and even as the plane entered its descent, I felt only a mild sense of unease. But my subconscious conveniently omitted the rather unpleasant business of LANDING, which I dread. Once I was back on Terra Firma, I found lodgings. The house was an old Victorian, with a creek flowing right into its facade, maybe even through the building. This house was like many in my dreams: I needed to traverse the rooms of other people to get to my own room.
Outside, the creek leading to this solitary house was littered with plastic bottles. Next thing I know, I was sitting with a group of "Rainbow Gathering"-type "Hippies." I was telling them about where I stayed in Amsterdam two decades ago, ...and my favorite Dutch cafe. Suddenly, a cop car pulls up and we begin to scatter. The cop gets out and (very friendly, actually) starts to harass us about the joint we WEREN'T passing around. I mean, this was a DREAM, so I would have had a puff it it was available). Well, there was no basis for any arrest, so we were all free to go. Then I'm at some Japanese airport, on top of a terminal or other building. Someone else and I are trying to get a bus to SOMEWHERE.
The moral of this story? YOU CAN STILL GET AWAY SCOTT FREE, but ONLY IN YOUR DREAMS!!
's dream, March 31, 2011: Flying on a jet from... somewhere to Madison. But after arrival, it was obvious I was back in Florida. The palm trees were right there on the golf course I was strolling by. At one point I was in Tavernier, a small town just past Key Largo as you head SW from Miami to Key West. Anyway, the Overseas Hoighway expands from two lanes to four there, and I sought a safe place to cross the road. Oops, backtracking now... when I was in the 757 at cruising altitude, and even as the plane entered its descent, I felt only a mild sense of unease. But my subconscious conveniently omitted the rather unpleasant business of LANDING, which I dread. Once I was back on Terra Firma, I found lodgings. The house was an old Victorian, with a creek flowing right into its facade, maybe even through the building. This house was like many in my dreams: I needed to traverse the rooms of other people to get to my own room.
Outside, the creek leading to this solitary house was littered with plastic bottles. Next thing I know, I was sitting with a group of "Rainbow Gathering"-type "Hippies." I was telling them about where I stayed in Amsterdam two decades ago, ...and my favorite Dutch cafe. Suddenly, a cop car pulls up and we begin to scatter. The cop gets out and (very friendly, actually) starts to harass us about the joint we WEREN'T passing around. I mean, this was a DREAM, so I would have had a puff it it was available). Well, there was no basis for any arrest, so we were all free to go. Then I'm at some Japanese airport, on top of a terminal or other building. Someone else and I are trying to get a bus to SOMEWHERE.
The moral of this story? YOU CAN STILL GET AWAY SCOTT FREE, but ONLY IN YOUR DREAMS!!
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