[Peace-discuss] Another view

[C. G. Estabrook]

[From an antipodean who calls himself Aussie Bob, a take on
what the hurricane mess looks like from far away.  --CGE]

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Via a process of heroic press conference after heroic press
conference it seems the Big Lie about The Big Easy is finally
taking shape.

"There was no state of emergency... There WAS a state of
emergency.... There was no request for help... There WAS a
request for help... Nobody was at the Convention Centre...
We've been supplying the Convention Centre with food and
water for days... No-one had any idea that we'd have a
hurricane and a flood... Who could have predicted such a
double-whammy?... It was all the governor's fault... No, it
was FEMA's fault... We need someone to take the fall: blame
the Mayor! He was rude to the President on TV... And that
rapper guy. We all know about rappers... We're spinning like
crazy to make ourselves out to be heroic, caring, efficient.
But if anyone criticises us, well then, that's "partisan"...
Now is not the time for recriminations. That's later on. Much
later. Hopefully... never."

>From the fog of electronic babble he's received over here in
Australia - cable suits with the hair and the teeth, sitting
in studios, waving their hands so casually, so lazily lying;
desperate reporters pleading for help for the people around
them, shamed by the knowledge they have an escape if it gets
much worse; the phalanx of bobbing heads that always seem to
surround Bush; the photo-ops; the gradual packaging of the
tragedy with flashy TV graphics; slick sound bites; endless
re-runs of some poor unfortunate stealing food for himself and
his friends and family, so easily condemned as a "looter" -
Aussie Bob's thanking Whoever Up There That There Is To Thank
that he has at least the Pacific Ocean between him and Bush World.

We're hearing stories of functioning communications lines
being deliberately cut off by FEMA operatives; of convoys of
trucks with food and refreshment being turned around; eager
rescuers forbidden to rescue... all manner of disaster relief
denied... until the cameras are set up and ready to roll. It's
as if they're trying to prove how difficult it is to get into
New Orleans by systematically closing the place off. Make it
hard to relieve the disaster and then go on TV and say how
hard it is to help, just like they told us it was.

"See? We weren't lying. It really is hard to help. We would if
we could. Honest!"

A clear day at last. Four days late. But never mind.

"Here comes the President. Find some helicopters. Get those
rotors turning. Grab a couple of black kids. Drop some
sandbags. Where are those bobbing heads? No ties! Open necks
only. Don't forget to thank everyone. Especially Democrats.
They're in it with us now. Up to their necks. If we go down,
they go down. All finished? Now, watch this drive...

And FEMA's Chertoff always by his side, the Reaper's twin.

The man at the top. King George. He loves Death. Whether it be
the condemned cell at a Texas prison, or New York on 9/11, or
Iraq - Fallujah, Abu Graib, practically anywhere in the
Central Front Of The War Against Terror (did anyone ask the
Iraqis if they minded?) - and now New Orleans, Death energizes
him. Mass death even more so. Soldiers, guns, looters, evil
doers, bodies eviscerated, floating, shackled to a table
awaiting the pressing of a button.  It's all a photo
opportunity to prove what a man, what a leader he is.
Resolute. In command. Ruthless. Parsing death. Apportioning
it. Sharing it about. Rewarding people with the opportunity to
die for him, civilians and soldiers alike in Iraq (we owe them
more death, to honour those already dead), the victims of New
Orleans, left un-rescued for days so that when eventually
saved he could take the credit... maybe not for the actual
rescues, personally (we don't get our hands too dirty), but
for appointing the battalions of cronies, hangers-on,
dead-weights, clueless flunkies and yes-men that he
rewarded with high salary, high profile "employment" that
achieve little, and that grudgingly, and late. Too late. Death
is his friend and his prop. It has served him so well in the
past, and now, in the Delta, it is by his side again.
Stage-managed. Laid on. Thousands of bodies: so much fodder
for his fascination with lives lost for some always "greater
good"... his own.

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