Wonderland

Ah, yes, Bush. The missile defense system. Another failure yesterday, when the interceptor failed to launch, due to some "unknown anomaly", just two years after the last interceptor failed. Eighty billion dollars spent, and fifty million more to be spent in the next five years. Marvelous. And you and your generals are planning to go ahead and begin deployment of this man-made disaster? Have any of you taken a look at what's happening in the world today? Where the whole panoply of American military might is pushed to breaking point by a handful of "insurgents"? And was, already all those years ago, by the Viet Cong. Have we learned nothing? All the military might in the world becomes irrelevant when any fanatic with a minimum of know-how can sneak a dirty bomb into the country in a shipping container, or launch a biochemical attack without the benefit of intercontinental missiles.

It's a new world, Bush. And the old, Cold War solutions, no matter how hi-tech, can't help but look creakily antiquated in the light of new realities. So who are you building the anti-missile defense to protect us from? Terrorists? When you call yourself a "war president" (can't help but think of "The Godfather", Bush!) is it not the war on terror you're referring to? And even that one is costing far more than you can afford, far more than you dare to ask us current taxpayers and voters to ante up for: that's for your--and our--successors to worry about.

So what kind of Wonderland are we living in, Bush, where this all makes sense? Can't we think of better ways to spend our hard-borrowed funds than this? The health, education, and welfare of the people of this planet seem to me to offer better returns than a scheme that's not only irrelevant, but also doomed to failure. I'm tempted to wonder whether that "unknown anomaly" might not be related to that higher authority you've claimed as your personal guide. Might He not be offering you a not-too-subtle hint?

Oh, and I have a poem for you today, as follows: It's called "Your Eyes, Bush."


Sometimes, Bush
when I see you
in your photo ops
I am inspired
to feel sorry for you:
those moments when the fear
shines through from beyond
the bravado, when your eyes
ask plainly, When
will they find out
who I really am?
At such moments, Bush,
I see you little-boy naked,
all revealed before
the camera's eye, the emperor
with his once fearsome
dick and balls shrunk up
in terror. And my heart
goes out to you
at such moments--that is,
if I manage to catch it
before the cruel laugh.