Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Your Tax Dollars At Work



As today is tax day, and no doubt the evening news reports will be awash in video of long lines at the post office hoping to beat the deadline, I thought it might be appropriate to take a look at what we are paying for.

The war in Iraq seems to have taken a backseat in the news lately. Things vastly more important have been filling the airwaves. Things like the DNA test of Anna Nicole’s baby, the Imus brouhaha, Angelina’s attempt to overtake Mia Farrow in adoptions, you know, important stuff.

Of course there is the other news also, the impending testimony of A.G. Weasel Gonzales, and sadly, yesterday’s chilling rampage at Virginia Tech. But in the midst of this real news, and fluff, let’s not forget that what Americans witnessed in Blacksburg Virginia yesterday is a daily occurrence in Baghdad.

In an outstanding article printed in the Niagara Falls Reporter, Bill Gallagher recounts the consequences of our involvement in Iraq.

This is heartbreaking stuff people.

When confronted with politicians in the media selling the progress being made, the Red Cross workers took a poll of their own. They asked several Iraqi women what was "their most pressing need". One woman's answer may well stick with me for the rest of my life.

"The most important thing that anyone could do is to help collect the bodies that line the streets in front of our homes every morning. No one dares to touch them, but for us it is unbearable to have to expose our children to such images every day as we try to bring them to school."

Stop for a moment and imagine that. I am a single Dad. I worry about my kids eating right, I worry if they brush their teeth enough, I worry that are hanging out with the right crowd, but I don’t worry about them dodging corpses on the way to school. Let that sink in. She didn’t ask for electricity, or clean water, or security, she wants the corpses picked up a daily basis. This is a world I cannot fathom. This makes the worlds of Beckett and Pirandello seem safe and predictable. Yet that is what these people face every single day; Courtesy of the American Tax Payer.

Wait a minute you say, I don’t support the war, I didn’t even vote for the criminals running our country. Perhaps not, but it is our Government, our tax dollars committing these atrocities. Where are the protests? Where are the masses marching through the streets demanding an end to these crimes being done in our name?

They are at home wondering if tonight is the night Sanjaya finally gets voted off.

Wake up America, perception is reality, and the world perceives that Americans are responsible for the lives of untold thousands of civilians.

This article goes on and very adeptly summarizes the failures of our policy. Please go read it. I had meant to summarize the whole thing, but I find myself too disgusted to write rationally.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Thanks for pointing out Wounded Knee. But mainstream journalists don't have time for historical accuracy. That's so yesterday's news.

Wait a minute you say, I don’t support the war, I didn’t even vote for the criminals running our country. Perhaps not, but it is our Government, our tax dollars committing these atrocities. Where are the protests? Where are the masses marching through the streets demanding an end to these crimes being done in our name?

They are at home wondering if tonight is the night Sanjaya finally gets voted off.


Amen.

celticfeminist said...

What a powerful statement. I ... well. There are no words. Or at least not any in my vocabulary that can come close to expressing the horror I feel that our tax dollars go to pay for things as horrific as what the Iraqis face every day. I wish there was a way we could designate what our taxes pay for - a system where we could say "Nope. I want mine to go here to poverty relief and schools. Screw funding your war."

*sigh*

Sometimes the world is just completely crapped-up, you know?

Brave Sir Robin said...

Sometimes the world is just completely crapped-up, you know?

yeah, I really do.