Spiders on my Glasses

As everyone attempts to speed past me on the thoroughfare, I am innundated by thousands of little American flags slapped to bumpers like so many highschool “hickeys”. These are the black and blue blemishes left on the necks of teenagers by their lovers as badges for “making out”, the latter term signiflying “foreplay” which may or may not have resulted in actual intercourse. Dasies don’t tell, but stickers tend to reveal certain facts. America is hopelessly in love with itself, at least here in Indiana. I find it curious that I have yet to see an Iraqui flag anywhere. Mexican flags ocassionally crop up, but they are not the same. One would think we would be as proud of ourselves as we are of the fledgling democracy we are fighting and dying to set up, nevermind the Iraqui casualties. I can almost imagine if I were to paste an impromptu little Iraqui flag on my car, my windshield would be in mortal danger of vigilante attack, the patriotic cretins perpetrating the crime convinced my affirmation of anything middle eastern a sure sign of terrorist support.

Sad.

Sadder yet is the latest affrount to good taste in the plethoura of little yellow crossed ribbons signifying support for our troops abroad, especially large ones proclaiming the relative of a bonified soldier, reminding me of the self congradulatory little stickers parents would paste to the back end of their SUV’s whenever their kid made the honor roll in school. I find little honor in death, especially if the life was wasted for nothing more than national pride. Ironic how the crossed ribbon was first a bold red badge of protest against AIDS, then a somewhat muted pink proclomation boo-hooing breast cancer. Now its a gereatric afterthought of a bad Toni Orlando pop tune. I find an underlying theme throughtout. Crossed ribbons are badges of failure. Failure to deal with the causes of a problem - instead mearly trying to manage the symptoms under the blasphamous pretext of a future cure. AIDS was an anathama due to its sexual connotations. As far as breast cancer is concerned, research reveals America is saturated in synthetic Estrogens, but this currently is as much a trade secret as the tobacco industry’s knowledge that El Producto was an addictive carcinogen long away and far ago. Iraq is nothing more than the red haired step child of America’s latest war of imperialism, nevermind the “what me worry?” propaganda.