Yesterday, in a case of mistaken identity/address, the po-po broke into my building so the bloody front door was lockless right below my beautiful, helpless hanging city-bike and left my neighbour’s apartment open to the fucking breezes of our ghetto-ass fucking neighborhood. Didn’t leave even fucking crime-scene tape, let alone one of their sorry-ass selves to explain what had happened; I came home from a nice walk-off-the-drunk constitutional to the scene, flipped, called the police, my neighbour came home, she flipped, the police kept not getting there (for five fucking hours), and then when they did the (admittedly taut little package of a) cop who showed up said on his way to the apartment – like, ten minutes before he got there – he’d been radioed with the situation. Pig sisterfucking Judas, I lived in France for three goddamn years without witnessing such sickening institutional incompetence. Then they got the balls to wonder why everyone fucking hates them. Fucknards. So my landlord had to call someone to put in a new front door lock and I missed the first half-hour of a friend’s social activist choir performance while I waited for a key. Motherfucking motherfuckers.
Not that it mattered. A long time ago – it may have been from not being to figure out Rwanda, so we’re talking like 12 years – I think it came clear to me that sometimes you can’t give peace a chance; and though war is the worst possible necessity to arise out of any diplomatic situation, sometimes it is indeed a necessity; that as much as I wanted to look like John Lennon back then real pacifism would be dependant on everyone in the world saying “okay . . . let’s have peace . . . nnnnnnnnnnnnow!” at the same time.
When it comes to the invasion and occupation of Afghanistan, my only qualms are that it didn’t happen years ago when the West realized the consequences of having supported the Taliban against the Communists was the death of civil society and the social enslavement of what had been a class of functioning professional and educated women; that the forces there now are too few and badly equipped; and that apparently the American militarily is horribly trained to deal with anything. Attacking the abstract idea of having invaded Afghanistan won’t help any of those things. Has the anti-war crowd really thought this out? Or are they just looking for something to get riled about in Canada since we weren’t dumb enough to participate in the dismembering of Iraq? Of course the ideal would have been to travel back in time and respond in a more measured way to Russian aggression in Afghanistan. But until the anti-war movement comes up with a time machine, I wish they’d stop being such unhelpful bitches. They seem to be carrying over so many old tunes from Vietnam and never really answering the question of how it relates when you have a volunteer army . . . I don’t know . . . everyone pisses me off. Everyone.