 From a
distance; imposters to peace,elicit an all encompassing concern for the
multitudes of the Earth; their anguish, deprivation, hunger and slaughter.
They "tsk-tsk",and go about the leisure of their lives, gorging
themselves on the finer foods and wines of the good life, as they plan
another excursion in shopping the world's boutiques. Out of sight, yawn,
of mind. What happens to the other man is one of their concern. "I'm
late-I'm late no time to wait" and a voice cries out from eons past,
"Could you not wait with me one hour?"
-
- From a distance,the marvels of today's genius sees missiles
shot from carriers far out to sea landing on unsuspecting villages and
farms, or from far above the clouds, in the serenity of the heavens(closer
to today's annihilating war god I suspect). From a distance, who's to care
about the farm wagon convoy of villagers, running for safety amidst,the
bombs of Kosovo? No image of the little blond boy in his yellow sweater,
crying amidst the remains of his dead family. Mission accomplished.
-
- Times are confusing. To "liberate" a people
from a despot that we lauded and supported for years, we use the perverted
genius of our 21st barbarism. Genius,used not for the good of humanity,but
for slaughter. Billions of untold billions to wreck havoc-destruction-mayhem
and the shredding of the Earth's children,and then the madness of rebuilding
that which the clowns with hatchets have hacked, plundered, and crushed.I
try to imagine the man, born of woman, who sits in some lab of tubes-computers-equations
and formulas,and creates these diabolical weapons,for the leering-soulless
clowns;forever on the Yellow-Brick Road of insanity without heart, mind,
or courage,believing a withered,impotent,wizard behind some curtain of
anonymity pulling the strings.
-
- Does he sit beside others in church,attend school affairs,
stand beside us in the grocery store, sit on city councils? I try to imagine
myself the mother of such a man, asking myself how had I given birth to
such a monster?
-
- Men of conscience and compassion; be they sculptor, musician,
artist, farmer, writer, trucker, miner, iron-worker, janitor, teacher,
social worker, fisherman, etc., go about the days of their lives contributing
in one way or another to greater mankind. Not so Mr.Cook, who is lauded
in reports as "teacher-theorist, consultant, expert witness, entrepreneur
and author. Imagine the pride of Mama Cook when her boy came up with the
inventiveness of slurry explosives. Melvin,developed the BLU-82, the largest
chemical bomb using aluminized slurry. Being a ordinary Mom myself, I'm
no different than other proud moms who speak of the accomplishments or
creativity of their sons. What mother hasn't kept that clay lump of something
from school days, one of her prized possessions (better than any diamond)
or hung works of art on the refrigerator door, until they yellowed with
age.
-
- I was trying to think of Melvin's mother hanging the
product of his genius. The pictures of our first victims of the Iraqi "Shock
and Awe". Would they bring the neighbors in, show pictures of this
'Daisy Cutter'? What of Ali and his missing arms or of our footless little
girl,in her prized purple sweater,matted with blood. Would these be mounted
on the frig, so that snack time, would bring a smile of pride?
-
- The Dallas Morning News, Nov 7, 2001, reported; "The
U.S. military has begun using one of its most powerful bombs against Taliban
(and unsuspecting villagers) in Afghanistan---a 15,000 pound behemoth so
big that it can't be dropped. It has to be shoved out the rear of a cargo
plane. Marine Corps Gen. Peter Pace, vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs
of Staff stated, 'They make a heck of a bang when they go off, and the
intent is to kill people.' Known as the Daisy Cutter because it was first
used during the Vietnam War to clear jungles so helicopters could land."
-
 "The weapon
(your tax dollars at work jm) consists of a septic tank-sized container
made of steel that holds 12,600 pounds of aluminum powder in a blasting
slurry.The explosion of its aluminum powder slurry creates a blast wave
of 1,000 pounds per square inch that can kill within 200 feet of the impact
point---roughly 3 acres. Those within 500 feet can suffer ruptured lungs-eyeballs-and
eardrums" It went on to explain the confusion of various bombs and
their destructiveness; "The BLU-82 is not a fuel air explosive, a
type of weapon that disperses an aerosol cloud (your taxdollars at work
jm) of fuel and ignites a blast that can cause overprssure of 4,000 pounds
per square inch. Fuel air munitions are made in sizes from 500 to 2,000
pounds. The BLU-82 was first used in Vietnam during 1970, but 11 of the
bombs were dropped on Iraqi troops during the Gulf War. The fury of the
blast and the fact that troops in trenches are not safe from it, can have
a powerfully demoralizing effect. The blast over pressure from any bomb
is going to kill people if it's close enough but the BLU-82 has about 10
times as much explosive power in it as a 2,000 pound bomb. It'll put the
fear of the Lord into anybody it doesn't kill".
-
- Human Rights Watch reports in Oct.2001; The U.S. led
alliance began its air campaign in Afghanistan on Oct 7, 2001. (see why
I hate Fall).The Pentagon has been reluctant to talk of specific weapons
but U.S. military sources have told Human Rights Watch that the Air Force
began dropping cluster bombs within a matter of days.Cluster bombs have
a wide dispersal pattern and cannot be targeted precisely, making them
especially dangerous when used near civilian areas. They are used in very
large numbers and have a high failure rate which results in numerous explosive
"duds" that pose the same problem as land mines.
-
- Cluster bombs landed on the village of Shaker Qala, in
Afghanistan, killing nine civilians and injuring (shredding jm) fourteen.
Each CBU-87 cluster bomb contains 202 individual submunitions called bomblets.
Each bomblet has an antitank and antipersonnel effect as well as incendiary
capability. They are widely distrusted over an area roughly 100x50 meters.See:
http://www.itvs.org/bombies/bombs.html The fact that these yellow bomblets
are the same color as yellow cannisters of food dropped had many an unsuspecting
child shredded.
-
- There is no way we can imagine the terror of villagers
and their children as these weapons thunder down. Try to imagine for a
moment in time,this being your town. Where to run with these weapons covering
acres? They should have named it "Shock and Shred" Ali was asleep
in his farmshouse far from Baghdad when his family was slaughered 'from
a distance' and his arms hacked off with some shards of steel. Our little
girl, her feet shredded by steel bomblets, much like ground beef at the
local butcher shop. March 25, 03, the President told us that we will rid
the world of terrorism. Ali, scampering around his farm and our footless
princess, were oblvious that soon they would be "Liberated".
Each war proclaims the last war. The war to rid us of poverty-drugs or
communism. And we war on. We who have touched the stars, have instant communications
and the finest of libraries and schools of higher learning are merely,
designed dressed, self-indulgent barbarians, masked as leering clowns,
killing our own children and those of foreign lands. And this is called
civilized? I think not. Lunancy dismantles one great country (our own)
and rebuilds another we've bombed back to the stone age! "And the
Cheshire cat smiles with a manevolent grin, I'm mad, we're all mad it really
doesn't matter which way we go" Alice In Wonderland. And what have
the millions to say this week when they march again to save the lives of
ALL the children:
-
- I come and stand at every door
- but no one hears my silent tread
- I knock and yet remain unseen
- for I am dead, I am dead.
- I'm only seven although I died
- in Hiroshima long ago {Vietnam-Bosnia-Kosovo-Afghanistan-Irag}
- I'm seven now as I was then
- When children die they do not grow.
- My hair was scorched by swirling flame.
- My eyes grew dim, my eyes grew blind.
- Death came and turned my bones to dust-
- And I was scattered by the wind.
- I need no fruit, I need no rice-
- I need no sweet, nor even bread.
- I ask for nothing for myself-
- For I am dead, for I am dead.
- All I ask is that for PEACE.
- --Nazim Hikmet
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