Saddamed if We Do,
Saddamed if We Don't

by Edgar J. Steele

November 22, 2002

"What is truth?  No wonder jesting Pilate turned away.
The truth, it has a thousand faces -- show only one of them,
and the whole truth flies away!  But how to show the whole?
That's the question..."
    --- Thomas Wolfe, "You Can't Go Home Again," Ch. 27 (1934)

Executive summary:  If we attack Iraq, we're screwed.  If we don't attack Iraq, we're screwed.  Therefore, we're screwed.

If I remember correctly from my Philosophy 101 course, taken at the University of Washington in 1964, that is what is known as a logical syllogism.  Reaching an inescapable conclusion from exhaustive premises.  Pure logic in action.

Of course, the secret in conclusion management is in picking your premises.  That's why we're even in the Middle East, kicking various shades of Arab butt around.  "Because they're jealous of our freedom," says the man from Planet Bush.  That's a premise.  Because they hit us in the WTCster.  That's another premise.

Problem is, hardly anybody ever challenges premises, so conclusions go down like spilt antifreeze being lapped up by a cat.  Tastes good, so it must be good for us.  Right.  Pure logic in action.  That's what passes for truth these days.  Or part of it, anyway.

Today, let's examine both "we're screwed" premises.  There already is sufficient chaff and confetti flying around the Web concerning the faulty premises for waging war in the first place.

Premise #1:  If (when, actually) we wade into Baghdad, we will end up being screwed.  

Saddam cannot allow himself to be disarmed because he will be overthrown and killed by his domestic enemies, if not his neighbors (can you say "Israel," boys and girls?).  The moment he resists, America launches.  Even if he fools the weapons inspectors, administration officials have already indicated their willingness to go in after him, anyway.  

Saddam is now boxed into a corner and can be expected to respond rapaciously, as any cornered animal with claws would.  The only question is when.  City warfare is wicked stuff (rent and see "Blackhawk Down" for a small taste) and quite different from tanks in the open sands.  The body bags coming home will be impressive because this time Saddam knows that we won't stop until we have his head on a stick.

Count on this one being a dirty war, too, with Saddam actually using his biological, chemical and dirty nuclear weapons (don't be naive and think he doesn't have them).  Think body bags by the shipload.

And, when it's over, there will be several other countries nearby that won't be jockeying to be America's buddy.  Each filled with millions of jihadists of the first order.  By then, America will have eclipsed Israel in their eyes.  Look at Israel and the way its people live, because it will become just like that anywhere that America has a presence.  Including Des Moines.

Screwed, as I said earlier.

Premise #2:  Maybe, by some miracle, we won't invade Iraq (who knows, maybe they'll catch Bush in that cubby off the Oval Office with Congolisa on her knees - now, there's an image).  Doesn't matter, because we'll be just as screwed as Bush then, too.  We already are, in view of how much water we have been carrying for Israel.

Left in power, Saddam truly becomes the boogeyman of the burning sands, with bazookas and missiles just a drippin' off of him and a launch button for every finger of his hands...  

The Arab world then will unite behind their only leader to have faced down the Zionist-American axis.  Israel will be turned into that giant, self-illuminated glass parking lot about which Dr. William Pierce always fantasized.  America will have to retaliate and, before you know it...we're screwed.  Global thermonuclear exchanges have that sort of effect.

The splintering of the Arab countries is what always has saved us in the past.  However, now we are providing compelling reasons for them to unite.  Reasons well beyond those previously provided by Israel, the country that started all of this in the first place.  

Bush is getting record numbers of Americans to unite (against him and his insane policies, both foreign and domestic), so it isn't hard to understand how he is managing to bring all the Arab sheikhdoms together.  And it is way too late to do a single thing about it; just ask the Afghanis.

Therefore, we're screwed.  Saddamed if we do and Saddamed if we don't.

But, Americans don't want to consider these things.  There is still beer in the supermarkets and football games on TV, after all.  Only some of our friends are out of work so far.

Meet Toed the cat. So called, because of the seven toes on each of his front feet. Toed lives with us. it that we live with him? A matter of perspective, I suppose.

Toed wants it to be summer again. In fact, so do I. Toed races to the front door anytime someone walks through the living room, his signal that we are to open the door so that he might go out. Then he stands there and tentatively sniffs at the chill mountain air, only to back away, right back into the house. We go through this ritual many times each day this time of year.

I imagine that he doesn't understand why we, who have such power over light and darkness and can make it as balmy as spring inside the house, can't do the same for him outside.

It's hard to find mice in six feet of snow.

It seems as though all of America is like Toed these days. With the arrival of the cold reality of a serious recession and its concomitant politically-driven war, we want it to be spring stroll through fields of mounding stock options, kicking up our heels in Enron-like profits. Instead, we stare with disbelief at every dip in the Dow, vainly expecting each following day to bring sunshine, buttercups and stock splits.

Everything will be just wonderful once we march into Baghdad and the Iraqis hand over Saddam for the show trial of the century.  Right.  In your dreams.

Forget it.  We're screwed.

New America.  An idea whose time has come.


"I didn't say it would be easy.  I just said it would be the truth."
            - Morpheus

Copyright © Edgar J. Steele, 2002

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