Darting Squirters
Four Star General David Petraeus spoke of George Bush's vaunted troop surge as having unintended consequences, i.e.; the squirts. And no, I'm not kidding. By putting pressure on targeted segments of the bad guys we have caused them to, and I quote, "squirt out of Baghdad." That's right. We squeeze. They squirt. Those darn squirters. Clever little squirters they. Wonder if they dart as well. Darting squirters; that would be something to see. Definitely worth a two drink minimum.
Army Captain Phillip Carter rather likened the surge to a water balloon. We push on one side, and the insurgents squish over to the other. Apparently, Iraq is a brimming bladder beset by the enlarged prostate of occupation. There may be no future in our Baghdadian misadventure, but there is an excess of liquid metaphors. For instance: some people see our involvement as a glass half full of democratic promise, some see it as half empty of morals and others see it as a heathen receptacle equally saturated with the toxic wastes of imperialism and the soul severing venoms of greed.
Doesn't matter what you call whatever it is we find ourselves stuck in: a quagmire, crapstorm, bloodbath, come hell or high water, Bush is not about to abandon ship since democracy is too important to let some silly civil war rain on any corporate earnings parade. Besides, the President has ice water in his veins, and wields the IV of free enterprise. He's got his hand on the nozzle that leaks pipeline profits. And you can't throw the revenue baby out with the insurgent bath water.
Our efforts to push back the tide of Islamic fanaticism are as successful as spitting into the wind-borne drizzle blowing off the Gulf of Oman. All we're doing is adding gelatin to the Kool-Aid and getting sprayed by the hose of dogmatism. The downpour of liberty can't feed the freedom irrigating rivulets of independence when the showers of democracy are doomed to be foiled by the ancient dams of religious fanaticism. And when it rains, it pours. Look at Arkansas.
We all know if a drowning man wants to learn to swim, someone is going to have to get wet. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it vote to share its oil revenue with the Kurds. And let's speak of the forgotten liquid ... that black viscous stuff bubbling out of the ground in too great an abundance to ignore. Blood may be thicker than water, but oil is thicker than both. And whoever didn't see that coming doesn't have both oars in the lake, if you fathom my meaning.
We ignore the torrent of ill will spewing from the spigot of anarchy that our invasion turned on at our peril. Same with the boiling emanations of international outrage bubbling over the edge of the stew of chaos we've stirred up. Not to mention the geysers of fury caused by the steaming vapors of collapse. What I'm saying is ... people are pissed. And no matter how soon Bush's scheme is deep sixed, we will be cleaning up the debris of this tsunami of sorrow tossed off the Tallahatchee Bridge over troubled waters and washed up on the shore of regret spoiling the broth of 2 dollar a gallon gasoline for a long time. Then again, that's just me. Being a wet blanket.
