There are young boys and girls who grew up in Colorado, who joined the military and are now camped out in the desert blasting people apart. I wonder what they think of it all?
No, seriously, I'd really like to know, down on the personal level, what these kids think of it. What it means to them, as a job, as a task they do. Do they think of their parents, back home? When they look through the scope of their rifle at the manic face of some desert rat, do they say, "This one's for you, Mom?" just when they squeeze out the round?
If they're going to do that, if they're going to put themselves in immediate danger, they deserve to do it for a real reason. Not for this. Not for a handful of blurry COMSATs, some jingoism, and the pompous despot of a shattered desert country. If they're going to come home with any chance of feeling good about themselves, they need real reasons to go.
The massive economic machine of the military is clamoring for a reason to exist. They can't catch terrorists with their big, clumsy, obsolete hands so they're finding other ways to justify themselves.
Pardon my language, but this just does not make any fucking sense. No more than the invasion, and subsequent abandonment, of Afghanistan did. If we spent one hundredth of the money we spent heaving bombs into rocky hillsides, on rebuilding New York, we'd have our twin towers back right now.
I'm ashamed that my federal tax dollars are paying for this. I'm paying for this. Hell, if I didn't pay for this, I'd be jailed for tax evasion. I feel like there is blood on my hands.
You can't trade dead people for live ones. I want all my brothers-in-law back home and safe.