Monday, June 12, 2006

My son, good gosh.

I was just talking to my son, and he would be glad to deploy . . . he wants to go to Iraq, not Kosovo. And why? "I can do more good in Iraq than in Kosovo. I can kill more Hajiis and protect my buddies."
Here's how I feel. I feel like I must have committed suicide the day he was born. I must've somehow disappeared because I certainly didn't teach him to despise in so facile a fashion. Will someone please tell me if I'm alive or dead, because it's obvious I'm dead to him.
If I were going to Iraq, I'd probably say, "screw this, I'm headed off to Uruk or Eridu. Don't call any time soon."
If I could read Sumerian or Old Babylonian stylus marks, a trip to one of those cities would be more fun than all the theme parks in the world. And here are these fools wasting time killing each other and hating each other to boot.

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