NOT GOOD AT ALL: Scary talk from the Iraqi Information Minister

Note the last couple of paragraphs in particular from the Salon article linked above.  If this had been uttered by a morose teenager, I’d be rather worried about the school he attended.

…Earlier in Baghdad, Iraqi Information Minister Mohammed Saeed al-Sahhaf told reporters, "Tonight we will do something unconventional, not by the military.

"We will do something which I believe is very beautiful. Those remaining soldiers who did not surrender I don't believe they have a great chance of surviving."

Asked what he meant, he said, "What I meant are commando and martyrdom (suicide) operations in a very new, creative way."

What do you think?  Do you think this portends something like Jonestown and a wicked mess of Kool-Aid, or something else much more drastic?  Something more creative than a single car bomb?

I don’t like it one bit.  It made my skin crawl reading it.

4:50:57 PM    comment []

What she said: Joan Walsh at Salon

Joan said it all for me.  I wish I could have written this piece; it expresses my feelings to a T.  I can’t think of a thing I would change, except to this bit:

Some Democrats still insist silence is politically wise. "Democrats don't need to do any criticism of the Bush administration right now," consultant Jenny Backus told the Times. "The unnamed generals are doing that job for us." But top Democrats have been preaching silence as strategy since before the midterm elections, and the party's shellacking at the polls cost them all credibility. Americans won't let them sit this fight out. Yes, Democrats must choose their words carefully, they should critique the president fairly and cogently, they should always think about the impact of their words on the troops. But the GOP attack dogs will come after them whatever they do.

The Democrats need to vacate that cone of silence they’ve been under.  They need to lay the groundwork for the future, take up the role of leadership that’s been vacant for so long.  Democrats need urgently to reach out to the Muslim world, to Europe and Latin America, to Asia, begin to correct the damage of the roughshod cowboys who’ve ridden this horse hard and put it away wet.  If the Democrats don’t step up now, they may not get the support they need to corral these cowboys in 2004, nor the support they need for any future multilateral action required once the cowboys have moseyed off to the great range beyond.

1:21:16 PM    comment []

He’s a poet and we didn’t know it

Man, this just bust me up!  Sorry, Salon, but I’ve got to give props to Slate on this one.

Did you know Rummy is a poet?

That explains a lot, doesn’t it?

Well, doesn’t it?

Or maybe Slate confused "Rummy" with "Rumi"...??

12:02:59 PM    comment []

About Julie

Poor Julie.  I’m concerned after reading her post today.  No, it’s not about Eric’s beet thing and the Asado Placero Sinaloense (which does sound interesting, BTW).

Here’s my unsolicited two-cents to Julie as a mother: tell your mother, Thanks, I hear your concern.  Then go on with your life as you see fit, as you are called, as you’ve chosen.

Mothers see themselves in their kids.  I can see my penchant for analysis, my sensitivities in my daughter.  I can see my goal-orientation and story-telling skills in my son.  Both of my kids have my eyes – I see myself as a kid in them.  They mirror things I used to be and am today.

But that’s not their purpose in this life, to mirror me.  My children are individuals who must make their own choices, forge their own way in the world.  They’ve come through me to a different set of trials than I had, different callings and purposes than mine. I am only a portal who’s charged with delivering them safely to adulthood; that’s part of my calling.  Barring signs of illegal abuse (i.e., telltale signs of drug use or domestic abuse) where I am obligated morally to protect and defend them, my role as a parent to an adult is to support them.  While they’re here in the “parental portal”, I talk with my children about karma and choice, about following their bliss; I teach them that choices have outcomes and we choose our outcomes, that embracing what they love to do is important to making good choices and outcomes.  But at some point they have to practice what I’ve preached.  I have to let them make those choices and have those outcomes.

It’s not easy to let go, to gaze passively into that mirror that is a child and know that what you see isn’t all about you, know it’s about something entirely different.  It can be damned painful.  I watch my husband watching his own son, hear him saying he’d do something different than his son, hear the utter frustration borne of the inability to change a thing for his son’s sake.  But it’s his son’s life – this once sunny little golden-haired child is now a strapping man who smokes (agh!), who’s traded in the toy weapons and Tonka heavy equipment of his childhood into service in the Armed Forces.  I can see the stubborn set of my husband’s jaw in my stepson’s jaw, the same goofy sense of humor in both of them.  But they’re clearly different people with completely different courses to take in this life.  We have to let go and let this adult child live his life, replete with both mistakes and glories of his own choosing.

Were Julie my daughter, I’d be so rah-rah-hip-hip-hooray about the stuff she’s trying out, the trail she’s blazing.  I’d be very concerned about the soul-sucking-job-from-hell, but I know that she has something to learn from that role and when ready, she’ll shed it.  Pushing her might only make her dig her heels in or overreact.  She’d know far better than I when her life is ready for the next thing.  I couldn’t see myself telling her how to do much of anything – she appears to be strong, independent, smart, gifted, has a good set of values and loving, supportive mate and comrades.  What more could an adult child need?

Were Julie my daughter, I’d be asking, Well, how do these choices feel?  Do you like where you are, do you love what you're doing?  What would you like to change?  How do you see yourself doing this?  Is there something I can do to help?   Were Julie my daughter, she’d either answer the questions directly or tell me she’s thinking about them, thanks.  And I’d have to leave it at that, provide support only as needed.

(And the age thing -- so what if Julie's nearly thirty?  I didn't get married until then, had my kids well into my thirties.  I guess I'd tell Julie, were she my daughter, that age is an arbitrary thing; look at Lena Horne, Julie Andrews, Eartha Kitt, all the other women who've achieved well into their prime!  it's attitude that counts!  Damn, look at Julia Child, she's 90 years young!)

So what about Julie’s appearance!?!  It's a temporary thing.  Before becoming butterflies they were larvae and pupae.  They’re none too pretty, but they’re required stages before that full-fledged beauty.  We’ve all been in that place at some time; some even now, some again in the future.  Julie’s merely in that place, that season before the next big thing on the horizon. 

Feel free to give this same letter back to my own daughter in a dozen years, so she can politely tell me, Thanks, Mom, I hear your concern.  Feel free to send this back to me so I can take a chill pill and get off my kid’s back.

10:45:35 AM    comment []