It's all over the news today that the death toll of soldiers has exceeded the number of people killed in the September 11th attacks. I keep thinking about the people I knew who went there and died, and about Bob. It's pretty damned clear there were never any weapons of mass destruction there, and no evidence ever that people in Iraq were in any way connected to the terrorism in America. This whole damned war is about pride, about greed, and about stupidity. It's about fear, and hate; not from "them" but from us.
Maybe, somewhere in history, this war will be redeemed. Maybe some good will come out of it. Maybe, maybe, maybe. That possibility is hard to see from right here.
I'm sick of this day. I'm tired of talking to schizophrenics and people who lie to me. Tired, tired, tired. I just want dinner, and to curl up in bed. I want my head to stop hurting.
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