Blogging on the Ground in Iraq

For quite a while I've been following the work of freelance war correspondent Kevin Sites through his blog of a "life in conflict". Not being a huge fan of network news (care for a mix of tabloid and facile comment, with a dash of cult of personality?) I hadn't realized that he had been retained by NBC news to cover the assault on Fallujah. It was only when I happened to go in search of news on the killing of the wounded insurgent in the mosque that I found out that the reporter I admired so much was now in the center of a firestorm of controversy. As an embedded reporter with the 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines it was his camera who captured the shocking image of a Marine executing a wounded man that helped fuel the fire of Muslim anger over our actions in Iraq.

A week or so after the event, Kevin wrote his own account of that day and ruminated on the effect of the events both in the mosque and afterwards on his life and the lives of others. It is a sometimes harrowing, sometimes hard nosed, always thought provoking piece. I recommend that you read it at some stage. Here's an excerpt to try and catch your interest:

Open Letter to Devil Dogs of the 3.1

Since the shooting in the Mosque, I've been haunted that I have not been able to tell you directly what I saw or explain the process by which the world came to see it as well. As you know, I'm not some war zone tourist with a camera who doesn't understand that ugly things happen in combat. I've spent most of the last five years covering global conflict. But I have never in my career been a 'gotcha' reporter -- hoping for people to commit wrongdoings so I can catch them at it.

This week I've even been shocked to see myself painted as some kind of anti-war activist. Anyone who has seen my reporting on television or has read the dispatches on this website is fully aware of the lengths I've gone to play it straight down the middle -- not to become a tool of propaganda for the left or the right.

But I find myself a lightning rod for controversy in reporting what I saw occur in front of me, camera rolling.

It's time you to have the facts from me, in my own words, about what I saw -- without imposing on that Marine -- guilt or innocence or anything in between. I want you to read my account and make up your own minds about whether you think what I did was right or wrong. All the other armchair analysts don't mean a damn to me.

Here it goes.

It's Saturday morning and we're still at our strong point from the night before, a clearing between a set of buildings on the southern edge of the city. The advance has been swift, but pockets of resistance still exist. In fact, we're taking sniper fire from both the front and the rear.

Weapons Company uses its 81's (mortars) where they spot muzzle flashes. The tanks do some blasting of their own. By mid-morning, we're told we're moving north again. We'll be back clearing some of the area we passed yesterday. There are also reports that the mosque, where ten insurgents were killed and five wounded on Friday may have been re-occupied overnight.

I decide to leave you guys and pick up with one of the infantry squads as they move house-to-house back toward the mosque. (For their own privacy and protection I will not name or identify in any way, any of those I was traveling with during this incident.)

Many of the structures are empty of people -- but full of weapons. Outside one residence, a member of the squad lobs a frag grenade over the wall. Everyone piles in, including me.

While the Marines go into the house, I follow the flames caused by the grenade into the courtyard. When the smoke clears, I can see through my viewfinder that the fire is burning beside a large pile of anti-aircraft rounds.


I yell to the lieutenant that we need to move. Almost immediately after clearing out of the house, small explosions begin as the rounds cook off in the fire.

At that point, we hear the tanks firing their 240-machine guns into the mosque. There's radio chatter that insurgents inside could be shooting back. The tanks cease-fire and we file through a breach in the outer wall.

We hear gunshots from what seems to be coming from inside the mosque. A Marine from my squad yells, "Are there Marines in here?"

When we arrive at the front entrance, we see that another squad has already entered before us.

The lieutenant asks them, "Are there people inside?"

One of the Marines raises his hand signaling five.

"Did you shoot them," the lieutenant asks?

"Roger that, sir, " the same Marine responds.

"Were they armed?" The Marine just shrugs and we all move inside.

Immediately after going in, I see the same black plastic body bags spread around the mosque. The dead from the day before. But more surprising, I see the same five men that were wounded from Friday as well. It appears that one of them is now dead and three are bleeding to death from new gunshot wounds. The fifth is partially covered by a blanket and is in the same place and condition he was in on Friday, near a column. He has not been shot again. I look closely at both the dead and the wounded. There don't appear to be any weapons anywhere.

"These were the same wounded from yesterday," I say to the lieutenant. He takes a look around and goes outside the mosque with his radio operator to call in the situation to Battalion Forward HQ.

I see an old man in a red kaffiyeh lying against the back wall. Another is face down next to him, his hand on the old man's lap -- as if he were trying to take cover. I squat beside them, inches away and begin to videotape them. Then I notice that the blood coming from the old man's nose is bubbling. A sign he is still breathing. So is the man next to him.

While I continue to tape, a Marine walks up to the other two bodies about fifteen feet away, but also lying against the same back wall.

Then I hear him say this about one of the men:

"He's fucking faking he's dead -- he's faking he's fucking dead."

Through my viewfinder I can see him raise the muzzle of his rifle in the direction of the wounded Iraqi. There are no sudden movements, no reaching or lunging.

However, the Marine could legitimately believe the man poses some kind of danger. Maybe he's going to cover him while another Marine searches for weapons.

Instead, he pulls the trigger. There is a small splatter against the back wall and the man's leg slumps down.

"Well he's dead now," says another Marine in the background.....Read the whole piece here.

History Friday on A Sunday II

It was up early this morning to take a bunch of kids from work (I work for a non-profit that helps teenagers volunteer in the community) to man the coffee station at Rockland's annual "Breakfast with Santa" shindig. As I get older and fatter I seem to have a harder time doing the late Saturday night/early Sunday morning thing and in the vernacular, I'm reet knackered. Still, a promise is a promise and so here is this week's History Friday:

November, 28th 1990: Tearful farewell from Iron Lady

In memory of this blessed event, I can only quote Margaret Thatcher herself, and say "Rejoice! Rejoice!" Coincidentally, her unceremonious expulsion from the premiership by her own supporters came around the time the dictators of the Eastern Bloc also fell from grace, although alas unlike many of them she has yet to do prison time for the damage she inflicted on British society.

Better, more patient people than me (like my friend Doctor Noddy) would take this opportunity to thoughtfully address the full implications of Thatcherism, both good and bad. But as mentioned above, I'm too tired to deal with all that tonight. Instead, I'm going to content myself with a warm inner glow of memory of those heady days in 1990, when Walter Mondale host Alex and myself hugged and high-fived in a very un-English display of delight before double history with Mr. Lockwood. Tonight I'll sit and nurse a Dark & Stormy, listen to the lashing rain outside, ruminate on the disappointing victory of John Major and the betrayed promise of Tony Blair, and ultimately giggle out loud at the image of a crestfallen and beaten Thatcher.

Still, if knowing that insufferable woman seems only to cling to life in order to destroy her own reputation (defending Chilean dictator General Pinochet in the House of Lords) or watch her family do it for her (son 'Sir' Mark accused of plotting coups in Equitorial Guinea with as much aplomb as he showed in the Paris-Dakar rally) is not enough, then you can always give her scabies here.

Before I get too smug however, I can't shake the feeling that she is still exerting a malevolent influence on Britain, Europe, and the world:

The Ten Best Political Films Ever Made

With the holiday season approaching and many blue state friends in need of some cheering up, why not stick one of these under the Christmas tree or Hanukkah bush?

In no particular order:

Three Kings: its a war film, heist caper, and a none-too-subtle look at the failing of US policy at the end of Gulf War I.

Fog of War: its creepy and depressing how much MacNamara looks and sounds like Rumsfeld with his talk of metrics and models. Errol Morris gives the original time and motion warrior enough rope and by God, does he ever hang himself.

South Park: The Movie: proof that violence is good and swearing is bad, a la the MPAA.

All The President's Men: one of the last films Dustin Hoffman didn't play a quirky/sad/ironic version of "Dustin Hoffman" the brand, and a reminder of how great a free press can be.

Bob Roberts: Tim Robbin's sometimes heavy-handed satire still has its moments, not least Jack Black's unibrow and the sublimely scary feeling that this could be a real documentary.

Control Room: if we are going to kill them, we should at least try to understand their point of view, eh?

The Manchurian Candidate; the original, and still the best.

Gandhi; one man can. While smiling and eating channa dhal.

Fahrenheit 911; I ummed and ahhed over including Mike Moore- I loved it but I like to think that I'm savvy enough to recognize my own deep bias. The film is deeply flawed, borderline racist in places, and lacks a coherent narrative, but for pure incredulous anger and political impact, it has to be here.

The films of Oliver Stone, by the way, were disqualified due to my deep discomfort with his presentation of fictionalized accounts as unvarnished fact, something I take the right to task for constantly. Inventing his own theories about the assassination of JFK is just as bad as strutting about on an aircraft carrier- political myth making that only obscures understanding. People like Oliver Stone are part of the reason middle America willingly believes that Saddam was responsible for 9/11 because as he tells us often, if the government said it didn't happen, it probably did.


In the dishonorable mentions category:
Both Forrest Gump and The Lion King are fascist movies, with deeply troubling themes of rigid compliance to behavioral norms and social hierarchies upon pain of death. Consider the fate of Jenny in Forrest Gump: she questions the system while Forrest fights in Vietnam, embraces idiot savant capitalism, and ends up a millionaire. As a result she gets beaten by her lovers, gets strung out on drugs, contracts AIDs, winds up as a single mother and poorly paid waitress, and dies. The one time Forrest steps out of line, to schtup Jenny at her instigation, he knocks her up. Terrible movie.

In The Lion King, Simba's desire to stay out of the family business and to explore results in has father's death at the hooves of rampaging wildebeests. Later he falls in with a speed freak meercat and a pot head wild boar, then finally realizes that he has to ascend to the throne and start eating the weaker members of society, as suggested in the song The Circle of Life. Social imagineering the Disney way.

Blogging note: History Friday is being deliberately held over until Sunday this week so that we can celebrate together the anniversary of the fall of Mrs. Thatcher. Now, if we can only find a US Marine ARV to pull down her statue so we can hit it with shoes...

Even Better Than The Real Thing....

Hooray! The new U2 album hit the stores yesterday and its firmly on the Weasel household's shopping list.

I am one of the rare "reverse U2 fans"; I couldn't get my head around their pompous, humorless stadium 'rawk' of the 1980s (with the exception of a secret appreciation of New Year's Day, Pride and Sunday Bloody Sunday) but once they loosened up and unleashed Achtung Baby I found myself warming to them. VH1 Megahits had a U2 video marathon last night, even digging deep in to the less than stellar secondary songs on Pop and it made me quite happy that those three Irishmen and one Englishman have stuck together and kept going. I have to say they were rather splendid on Saturday Night Live last week, as anyone who stayed up until the end was treated to an impromptu concert that sadly was cut short by our local NBC affiliate's pressing need to show Dangerous Minds for all the drunk UMO education students out there.

I have one question though: is it just me or is the video for new single Vertigo a heartfelt cry against the injustice and mess that follows when you drop a laser printer toner cartridge? I'm sure I've had that effect stream off my back courtesy of a HP Laserjet 1200 mishap.

GWB: A Shrub of Action

Man, wearing that flight suit on the deck of the Abraham Lincoln really went to his head! Not content with chopping trees on his ranch, playing T-Ball, and making cowboy noises in front of microphones, President Bush has taken on the role of protecting his Secret Service detail:

Bush plucks bodyguard to safety

Quite right Mr. President; it pays to be assertive in South America; after all, as your pastor told you they are Godless Catholics who'll have your wallet off you in an instant and if you drink the water you'll crap your brains out until Thursday week. I'm so glad we have you to go overseas on our behalf Mr. President so that we don't have to.....

Frankly though, the pure comedy of this aside, this story hints at the nub of America's problem in the world and why we have such a hard time diplomatically. No one is going to line up behind the big dog unless the big dog acts in a friendly way; its human nature. People root for the underdog, unless the big guy can patently show his good side. Look at the Red Sox: second highest payroll in baseball, a giant marketing franchise, and a multi million dollar sinkhole for disposable income and yet they managed to become the people's champion. George Foreman is another example of this.

Instead of this bit of savvy marketing nous (that you think would be second nature to our innovative "government of CEOs"), namely make nice and you can get your way, we have instead diplomacy by ugly American. It is as if Clark Griswold is acting as the administration's Protocol Officer. Imagine the hoopla in DC and nationwide if the President of Chile made the same demands on a visit to the States:

‘Chilean President Ricardo Lagos scrapped a gala dinner because the US was demanding that all guests must pass through metal detectors and possibly be searched.

"President Lagos considered it unacceptable that the top authorities in the country and leading businessmen be submitted to searches that are humiliating," a presidential aide told the Chilean newspaper El Mercurio”.’

Although if you come to think of it, it might be smart if the Chileans did insist on metal detectors given the expiration of the Assault Weapons Ban.

I guess we will have to continue to put up with four more years of this boorish, dangerous, and stupid behavior. Mind you, this really is the logical extension of a mind set that expects to finds a McDonalds and a Best Western in every city, that believes that we are too important to dip our flag in respect of foreign dignitaries in their own countries when we attend the Olympic Games, and allow us to think that we can invade nations at will and impose our version of democracy on them (e.g. extensive privatization, no health care, and rule by oligarchy regardless of the true intent of the electorate).

But why does Bush even bother going on these trips, when he can't even make the effort to pretend to make nice with our neighbors? Perhaps the real reason he was in South America was unfortunately highlighted by the death of the crew of a private jet that crashed this afternoon. The aircraft was en route for Houston to pick up George H.W. Bush in order to take him to Ecuador for a speech and business meetings. Thus once again, as the President visits a country or continent, the Carlyle Group and his daddy are hot on his heels….

A Bumper Compendium of Fun!

As Walter Mondale's Alex can attest one of the great English family get together tradtions is the breaking out of the compendium of games (back me up here Alexander, or I'm in trouble). The compendium was usually a box or book with a single board that doubled as the playing surface for a whole range of games (here's a posh version). This being England in the seventies the compendium, as with all our children's entertainment, was still stuck in a late fifties time warp. Hence games such as Make Way For The Officer, You Coolies!, Doff Yer Cap, Half a Guinea on The Nag Squire, and Duck the Gypsy in the Village Pond (still alas played today).

With the holidays approaching (for my transatlantic chums in Blighty, it's Thanksgiving this week. Why is it that English people seem to take such offense to the theory of the Thanksgiving holiday by the way? Stop being so sadly parochial- not everyone has to celebrate 'whitsun') I thought I would come up with my own compendium of a couple of websites to help stave off that tryptophan nap come Thursday.

First up, how about giving it up for a bit of lard, the other white shortening?

Why not hang out with the family and share the latest Howard Dean speculation, or learn more good gossip about American politicians from The Hill?

Join in the general yelling without the bother of getting your own blog- hang out on Metafilter

Get a jump on the crowds and pre-select your favorite tunes for the holiday gift season by checking out Bizarre Records.

Finally, in the true tradition of British family entertainment and the compendium of games, laugh at how those funny foreigners seem to always name their food after eupemisms for genitals. "Look! A Swedish crisp bread called 'Knackered Dick!' Tee Hee!" Its all right here, at Rude Food.

Not the most fun ever, but true to the spirit of the compendium of games.

I might be back later with a sense of awe and wonder at how the Republicans, with the White House, Senate, and House cannot get their own legislation passed, as the Intelligence Reform Bill founders on the rocks of Rumsfeld and a couple of his lackeys in Congress...

History Friday on A Sunday

Its been a busy weekend on the back of a busy week. I spent much of today trying to get a cheapo syphon tube to work so I could drain the fuel from a rusted out old Toyota Corolla (long story) on the heels of a Saturday spent at work helping to throw a food drive party. Therefore alas this History Friday segment will have to stand on its own:

November 19, 1977: Egyptian leader's Israel trip makes history

Swoosh This, Phil Knight

Mrs. Weasel recently received the new Nike Women catalog in the mail, and so I decided to write them a letter that's posted below. Inspired by Mrs. Weasel's "Write A Letter For Change Everyday" campaign that she developed to keep our spirits up after the election debacle, I've wholeheartedly embraced the cathartic therapy of tilting at windmills via the US Postal Service. I highly recommend it; its good for your blood pressure. If something or someone in power pisses you off or is deserving of praise, get to it.

Lovely, fun, and you get a selection of squirming or oily replies on cool looking letterhead for your scrap book.

Here's the Nike letter:

To: Nike USA, Inc
Consumer Services
1 Bowerman Drive
Beaverton, OR 97005

November 16, 2004


Hello Swooshies:

Thank you for sending the premiere issue of your Nike Women catalog to our household. After looking through it to check out the gear on offer one question sprang to mind. Why do you not disclose the country of origin or manufacture of any of the clothing and equipment you offer? Like the proto-yuppies we are, we regularly receive (and shop from) catalogs from LL Bean, J Crew, and so on and they all list the country of origin of their apparel.

Before we buy anything from you we would like to be assured that it is produced in “clean clothing” conditions, preferably in the United States. While we are all for spending our money with American companies, we would prefer it if our money benefited beleaguered American manufacturing communities rather than be used to fuel corporate jets or multi-million dollar endorsement deals while overseas workers, out of sight and out of mind, sew our shoes for pennies a day.

We would like to applaud you for your moves towards environmental stewardship in producing the catalog. Selecting a paper grade that is made up of not less than 20% post-consumer waste is a start (although it is a pity that the percentage is so low). Too bad that by its omission from your environmental statement we have to assume that you did not use soy ink. We also could not find where your catalog was printed listed anywhere. Up here in Maine we have several paper mills that specialize in producing high quality, environmentally friendly paper for magazines and catalogs. We hope you used one of our mills rather than ship production overseas; knowing that would make it much easier to spend money with Nike, you see.

We hope to hear from you soon, and with any luck you’ll have the right answers expressed in unequivocal plain English rather than PR speak because to be honest you have some nice stuff on offer. We are sure you understand however that we could not possibly buy it if you were still producing your apparel in what we consider an unethical manner. Until then, we will keep buying American made New Balance and look forward to reading the answers to our questions either way.

Yours Sincerely,
Wisdom Weasel

History Friday on A Monday

Time for a little light relief, a few days after the title might suggest as being timely.

Friday saw the anniversary of the most unmenacing espionage arrest in history:



ON THIS DAY: November 12, 2001: Greece holds plane-spotting 'spies'

It was also the anniversary of the demise of the pound note:


ON THIS DAY | 12 | 1984: Quid notes out - pound coins in

I'd just about reached the age of getting pounds for pocket money when this happened, and the coin never seemed quite as much. it also took away the anticipation follwed invariably by disappointment of trying to figure out if the birthday card contained a fiver or a one.

This story also brought to mind the moment I decided I would oppose Mrs. Thatcher and all her works: 1982. When her government abolished the 1/2 penny coin overnight I saw my spending power cut in half. No more 1/2 penny candy. No more 2 1/2p comics. Damn you Thatcher, damn your thieving Tory eyes!

The Yearly Marker

Let the word go forth from this time and place that the first snow of the winter for Knox County, Maine flew at 2am, Saturday November 13. Its still snowing now, but we only have half an inch (ooh-errr missus!)

This is always one of my favorite events of the year. Ask me about snow in March, and I'll bite your head off. Ask me in November and I'll break out the sweaters, hot chocolate, and sophisticated romantic comedy notions of moving through the world.

Uprising In Mosul

Here goes the North

Mosul, in Kurdish Iraq (and patrolled by Maine's own 133rd Engineers, National Guard) exploded last night. And these are the sympathetic Iraqis.

Way to go, Red State voters.

Epistles Between The Barbarians, Part One

Stand by literary warfare..."

A few posts back I threatened to reproduce an email debate between Professor Noddy Trotter and myself that immediately followed the presidential election results last week. I'm still piecing it together but during the search of my sent- and in-boxes I rediscovered this self-indulgent exchange of ill-tempered literary commentary that rapidly descended into abuse between myself and Walter Mondale host Alex. Enjoy.

Original Message-----
From Alexander Bowles
Subject: Emil

did you ever read 'Emil and the detectives"? I wonder what happened to Emil
Tischbein during WW2? any thoughts? I think he would have been an excellent Wehrmacht officer, noble ideals in difficult times. Probably invaded Holland or something.

Bowles.

From: Weasel
Subject: Re: Emil

Gosh, I did. What an excellent book; thank you for reminding me about it. I shall have to get it out of the library (I should see if they have that modern classic "The Machine Gunners" too: "where you going now?".)

Emil probably joined the Gestapo. Reluctantly at first, but then with increasing
zeal he persued anti social elements across the Sudentenland after his posting to Czechoslovakia. He was hung from a bridge support in 1945, after being captured by advancing Soviet troops while trying to flee towards the relative safety of Austria and the American lines, in women's clothing with a handbag full of gold teeth.

But what of some of his compatriots?

Tintin narrowly escaped charges of collaboration due to protection earned by his services offered to a Belgian royal family sex ring.

Bertie Wooster, MC was killed in action at Monte Cassino while serving with the Grenadier Guards. His batman, Jeeves, was court martialled for looting his corpse then unrinating on his head.

Weasel

From: alexander bowles
Subject: Re: Emil

I have to disagree, I am convinced that fate never tested Emil's Wiemarian ideals trusting friends, not falling asleep on trains etc) and he was reasonably fortunate during the Nazi period (ok, he may have machine gunned the odd French village but hey, go around blowing up vital traintracks and you must expect some punishment). I reckon he was probably a middle ranking officer by the time he woke up on June 6, 1944 and saw thousands of grubby tommies and the rest sailing towards him. I think he was secretly relieved.

Bowles.

From: Weasel
Subject: Re: Emil

Dear David Irving,

Deny it all you will. Alas, after a stint in the Hitler Youth, Emile's detective skills made him a natural candidate for the state security services. Such a waste of a fine young mind to corrupt it so, to unleash it to find jews hiding under barns and in attics. Of course, the pollution of facism and the work debauched young Emile, especially after he took up with that shypillitic Hungarian female impersonator. What you are attempting to do is considered a crime in modern Germany, you know.

Best
Weasel

From: alexander bowles
Subject: Re: Emil

Now you are testing MY Weimarian ideals. Why will you not accept the argument for the 'good' German? Look at the evidence. Think about what we already know about Emil's character.

1) He was robbed on a train by a man with a moustache and instead of reporting it to the police he and his comrades of the street (the detectives) sought justice alone. I suggest that this tell us that he grew to distrust facial hair and from a very early age was sceptical of the instruments of state authority. Whilst he like millions of other germans would have been of an age and circumstance to be enlisted into the Nazi military machine I do not nessecarily assume that he became a full blooded fascist.

1a) As a young boy taken advantage of by an older man he would probably have been deeply distrubed by the homoerotism inherrent in Nazi ideology and imagery.

Bowles

From: Weasel
Subject: Re: Emil

AHA! You just scuppered your own ship! To whit:
"instead of reporting it to the police he and his comrades of the street (the detectives) sought justice alone."

Hmm, reminicent of the Frei Korps vigilante assassination of Rosa Luxembourg. Rather than strive for a society of laws, old facist Emile took to the streets to crack heads. The moustache is of no consequence, as Lenin's moustache cancels out Adolf's.
The only good German was Oliver Kahn in Munich in 2002.

Weasel

From: alexander bowles
Subject: Re: Emil

1. The detectives were a bunch of middle class liberal kids whose parents let them stay up late. The Freikorps were dissaffected right wing ex servicemen who went about murdering leftists and jews at the drop of a hat. Therefore, no comparison.
2. Stalin also had a 'tache. Butchered 20million+. By the time Emil was getting robbed on the way to Berlin Lenin had been dead for 3 years.
3. It's Emil with no 'e' at the end. He is not a girl.
4. There is no evidence that Emil's hometown of Neustadt was ever officially declard "judenrein" or free of jews during the period 1933-45 and therefore no direct evidence of any anti semitism in emils upbringing.

Chew on that
AB

From: Weasel
Subject: Re: Emil

Dear Lewis Carroll of Wymondham,

You are very vested in the purity and innocence of this pubescent blond boxhead, aren't you? Are your impulses fully healthy?
Yours,
Clare Rayner.

From: alexander bowles
Subject: Re: Emil

Sir,
Childish slurs are no way to win an argument. You great ginger spaz!
I win!
Bowles.

Why Isn't Being Smart About Fallujah A "Moral Value"?

"Hey Mr. Zaquari! Eight nine ten coming, ready or not!"

Do you remember during the late, fondly remembered presidential campaign? About how when John Kerry suggested that American troops would end their mission within four years the Republicans pounced on him, yelling that setting timetables only telegraphed to insurgents about how long they had to wait before plunging Iraq into further violence and chaos?

How then does that view gel with our actions in Fallujah? It is credibly alleged that the ultimate attack on Fallujah was scheduled around the presidential vote, in order to spare Mr. Bush the embarrassment and damage of a potential graphic disaster prior to polling. The fact that it was coming was hardly a secret, despite this delay. Who wants to bet against the probability that Zaquari and the bulk of the islamist and nationalist insurgents left the city sometime on November 2?

The coalition now holds 70% of Fallujah; it is estimated that our capture of the city will be complete within 48 hours. Meanwhile, insurgents have once again melted back into the general population or have moved on to one of the other lawless cities and are asking the coalition to have another go at "guess which cup is the ball under."

Abrams tanks and night vision googles are fine; they let you capture real estate. However, until the coalition learns the lessons of fighting guerrilla enemies offered by battles from Hue to Tora Bora they will not be able to quell the insurgency.

Not a lot of fun, but true.

Less Conciliation, More Bile

For those tortured liberals out there, trying to develop an effective outreach to the red states so that we can once again "feel their pain", take a second and revel in this very rude, very accurate, very very funny rant:

Fuck the South

The Blues Say Sorry

My friends Mike and Sally, committed Democrats living out in Montana (and to quote former representative Pat Schroeder of Colorado, a pair of "blueberries floating in tomato juice") have been proud leaders of the "chin up, keep fighting" brigade since the calamity of November 2. I suppose given their geographical location they are genetically predisposed to bravely smiling at a hostile universe, like abolitionists in the antebellum south. Still, amid their flurry of rallying emails concerning voter fraud, media bias, and plans for the future they can be permitted to pause and reflect for a moment on the magnitude of the Bush 'victory' and its meaning for the world.

To that end, Mike very kindly forwarded this URL hosting a collection of apologies from a smattering of the half of the population who believe in reality based solutions and therefore didn't vote for the Church Deacon-in-Chief:

Sorry Everybody

As for those on the right out there who feel that this is just another display of lily-livered-namby-pamby-hate-America-first-sensitive-war-on-terror-gaylord-New England-tasty-coffee-lovin'-pinko-francophile-freedom-trashin'-college-goin'-evolution-believin'-sex-enjoyin'-Satan-huggin'-not-coming-togetherness, I have an apology of my own:

ChChChChanges

First, belated post election analysis: oh bugger.

Second post election thought: I really should badger my buddy Mark about allowing me to post our immediate post-election coverage.

Third post election thought: you really should check out the Random Doubts of Walter Mondale (see links bar) to witness a sleeping giant awake.

Fourth post election thought: OK, now I really need to apply myself to the long planned reconsideration of the Central Asian "Great Game" before that nut in the White House makes the pessimistic analysis of the Arabian Gulf and South Asia reactive rather than proactive.

And for regulars; please note the new look: I've tried to update the Weasel in order to make it more visitor friendly. To that end, a new colour scheme and a better organised links bar; a different font and the ability to email a post that either you particularly care for or despise to friends and family. You do need to do your bit too however; your comments, however brief or facile are welcome and take a second to click through my sponsors' ad(s) at the top of the page so that I can keep this thing up and running. If you disable pop-ups, let the page load then toggle right back, and generally consider these ads as defraying the cost of subscriptions, ISP, and books you'll be of great assistance.

As for those who think the American center and left has been beaten, let me dip into (and subvert) the Bard:

"Once more into the breach dear friends, and fill the breach with our liberal dead."

Allons y, les revolutionaires.

Large Sips Save Ships

The War on Terror® has been with us in earnest for three years now, and no effort has been spared to harness this nation’s talents in the cause of victory. Through the efforts of the general population, this country won its freedom, helped defeat the scourge of state fascism in World War Two, and rose to JFK’s challenge to put a man on the moon within ten years. Now we are applying our unique talents to battling a fundamentalist enemy who scorns earthly temptation. Now with the troublesome presidential election over, for the first time I can exclusively reveal my part in this fight; a part I took at the urging of George W. Bush.

The challenge of taking on an amorphous terrorist enemy far from our own borders is one of the hardest we have ever faced. Luckily for us God saw this coming and arranged for George W. Bush to be our president, despite the seeming victory of Satan’s minion Al Gore. Much like the way Old Testament prophet Billaibob spent his youth out of his head on manna and fruitlessly drilling for frankincense in the desert, George W. had his time (as he puts it) wandering in “the wildebeest.” When the call came however he was ready to take up the sword of justice on our behalf. A quick visit to the emergency room and a few stitches later, he returned to pick up the sword at the right end and started swinging it like A-Rod chasing an Embree sinker.

Bush long harbored a love of the lion hearted Winston Churchill and since the attacks of September 11 the president has been channeling the spirit of the great British prime minister. Who can deny the rhetorical similarities between Churchill explaining to an apprehensive Britain preparing to face down Nazi Germany that he had nothing to offer “but blood, sweat and tears”; and Bush’s stirring urging that we throw sand in the eyes of our enemies by going shopping? Indeed, to quote Churchill himself, “Never in the field of human conflict have so many owed so much to so few.” Of course, by “the few” Churchill meant the pilots of the Royal Air Force rather than the big five credit card companies, but the meaning is essentially the same.

Inspired by the challenge laid down by the president, I decided to do my bit in this global clash of commercial cultures. I would flex my credit limit and go toe to toe with my Al Qadea supporting equivalent. For every Koran bought in the bazaar, I would snap up the latest by Dr. Phil. For every donation to a shadowy front group, I’d eat at Dennys. For every AK-47 salvaged from the battlefields of Afghanistan, I would urge further tax cuts so that I could buy warm woolen socks to send to our troops in the desert.

However like many citizen of a democracy I found the transition from peacetime customer to wartime shopper difficult to achieve. I was doing my best, but my efforts were falling short and I was failing my president. Try as I might I just wasn’t very good at shopping. I’d go out for unnecessary junk in order to keep up imports from China’s plastics factories and come back with groceries. Then it hit me; there was one area in my life where I was an expert at wasting money. It was also an area where the president could no longer contribute due to the sad medical reality that people born in Connecticut lack the gene for properly metabolizing Lone Star beer. I would drink for victory!

As I slid from my stool that first night of my campaign I felt warm inside at doing my part to combat terror- or maybe that was just the Jaegermeister. Regardless, I’ve been taking every opportunity I can to pound beers and toss back shots since my epiphany struck. There have been unintended shopping opportunities as a result; everything from larger pants to 1am gas station food have found their way on to the credit card statement.

I may now have the breath of a dinosaur, splintered blood vessels in my cheeks, and a bad case of bar stool ass but I know in my heart that the red, white, and blue flies stronger as a result. But I must never relax my liver or my guard. The freedom haters are everywhere, even in this bar as I type. The Arab looking guy next to me has just ordered a car bomb and I should probably counter him with a B-52. But rest assured, no matter how tough things get I’ll be there when the shots start flying.

First published November 2004, in Face (Portland, Maine). © The Wisdom Weasel & Smiling Joe Media 2004.

Black Watch Troops Killed In Iraq

"Three Black Watch troops killed in suicide attack"

British troops move north at the behest of the Bush Administration to cover Marines massing to attack insurgent strongholds and to try and undo some of the heavy handed damage that US military "force protection" doctrine has wrought on Coalition/Iraqi relations.

About a week after they moved, three Black Watch lie dead in the dust. Despite the more benign tactical approach of British troops the damage done to safety and security by Pentagon policies extracted its inevitable price. After 18 months in Iraq, Britain suffers its worst casualties in Iraq since the killing of 6 military police near the start of the occupation.

Soldiering is a dangerous business. Nobody denies that, least of all the troops. But to knowingly send British troops into a situation that can only lead to greater casualties in support of an ally's disastrous policies is so redolent of the stupidity and crassness of the First World War it should lead to the prosecution of Tony Blair for negligent homicide. Is it not enough that we have sacrificed our security, self-interest, and principles on the altar of American political expediency that we now must sacrifice our young men too?

And you wonder why British newspapers run front pages like this: