So George Bush thinks “Europeans who blast U-S foreign policy should put themselves in America’s shoes,” does he? That because we were attacked, this justifies torture, abduction, and raining death on millions of innocents??
No, George. You have it backwards: you should put yourself into everyone else’s shoes, because you were raised by a gorgon and daddy wasn’t there for you, so you don’t know what love feels like. You need divine intervention and LSD. Your policies are nothing more than your own pain turned against the universe. You’ve called upon the very worst in our souls and raised a howling, ancient archetype that threatens all the good this world has ever known.
I mean, basically, right? No? Maybe? What else explains it?
Old Taos doorway (ours)
(I look out my window and see nothing but beauty. Well, sure, walk a little ways and see dead cars and tires on the roofs. And never mind the birdsplat and spider webs on the glass. But right now, out that window, all I really notice are trees thrashing in the wind and high cumulus clouds with air-brushed edges. At that altitude, we’re talking snow. The rest of the sky is various hues of gorgeous blue, and on the farthest horizon beyond the Sangre de Christos, I can see the tops of building thunderheads like they were cut out from the distance with a razor. This is pretty goddamned cool for working without a net. If I disappear tomorrow, don’t forget that I’m having a wonderful time, despite and because of virtually everything, so it wasn’t suicide. Just so we have that straight.)
Pray for George Bush. But first we get him into rehab.
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