Look! There they are again inside my TV. Little people in little
boxes...
There's a picture of The President, but where's his table, the
one with the options on it.
"That lyin' draft-dodger's gone and done it this time..."
"...he can't wage war without leaving all his options on the
table."
See? Where's the table? They never show it. It's not fair.
Now, here's the ones I like. The generals. They retired because
they hate war. That's what they all say, that they hate war. Too bad, I say. I bet
they could've fixed everything. They're so smart. They have all
the answers. Just listen...
"...devastating, overweening, crushing force. The only way to
fight a war..."
"...can't choose targets by committee..."
"Don't start unless you can finish..."
"...sure as hell don't tell your opponent what you're about to do
unless, of course, you tell him that you're going to crush him,
grind him up..."
See? Little generals inside my TV. I told you! Too bad they're
all retired. Those generals sure know what to do.
Aw-oh! Watch out! Be careful! There's the really bad guy again.
Why do the others let him inside my TV? I don't like him. He does
mean things. He's not nice.
"...butcher, thug, war criminal..."
"...NATO must stop his depredations..."
"...unavoidable collateral damage..."
Oh no! Now there's two women crying. They're hugging each other,
and tears are running down their cheeks. They're so sad. Look!
The photographers are all clicking away with their cameras. No!
Get away! It's not right to take their pictures now. Get away!
Look! There's the little refugee girl who got separated from her
mom. She's five. I see her a lot.
"She is the face of Kosovo..."
"...this little girl who wins the hearts of everyone she meets
sings of her homeland. Now she adds her own words..."
"...my dearest Daddy how could you leave me here like this?"
I like her. She's always smiling because her mom and dad will
find her pretty soon. She sings to the soldiers when they come to
visit, and she draws pretty pictures of her house and her mom and
dad while she's waiting. Too bad she can't remember where she
left her mom. That sure would speed up the happy ending. But I
can't be mad at her for not remembering. I can't remember either.
About how I wound up in this wheelchair. The nurses think that
maybe it's the metal plate inside my head. They try to help, but
they just aren't smart like the generals.
Oh, didn't I tell you? We've got generals here too. I know,
because one came to see me yesterday. He came into my room and
shook my hand and saluted and gave me a box with a pretty purple
ribbon in it. He said I did a splendid job. I guess I must have
because generals don't lie, but I still can't remember.
Lucky we've got our own generals here, or those little box-people
inside my TV might get me upset.
Written during the Kosovo action while glued to the tube for a week with influenza and a one-hundred-and-four degree fever. And I wouldn't change a word... |
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