Fiasco
I like to read this book like the majority of this country is experiencing its subject matter.
Behind dark, protective, ineffectual blinders.
Most of us are not affected by the war in the least. Nor do we effect the war by the same measure. We go about our way informed of the days strife by the media outlet of our choosing. Typically that media outlet tells us exactly what we want to read, as, seldom is it that people read viewpoints of the world that conflict with their own. The media as a whole has, in unison, made a shit show of reporting a shit show when it comes to producing any meaningful intelligent discourse on the war. The information fed to us is in the form of desensitized sound bites, and television images, that would have made Pavlov proud. Our view of the war is dark and shrouded, full of life’s distractions.
We write a blogs, post meaningless flickr photo protests, sometimes we even audibly scream at news headlines. But that’s all we do. We are not personally invested in the war. At least I’m not. I don’t know anyone over there, I’m not suffering financially, and am not in fear of being drafted.
I know we are over there fighting for oil under the guise of liberty. I know 25 people died yesterday over there. I know this war pisses me off to no end. I know the majority of the country agrees with this. But yet I see no protest. No discourse. No alternate plans.
I’m obviously not ready to quit my job to head to DC to protest. Hell, I haven’t even planned a weekend protest. I care, but, do I really care enough to do anything? Do I just like reading and ranting about the strategy, politics, and battles of this war? Am I selfish? Self important? Ineffectual? Callous? Lazy?
All signs point to yes.
How sad.
Maybe the shades are to hide my apathy.
