An Empty Suitcase

The war in Afghanistan, the unemployment rate in America, and the never-ending battles men and women endure to somehow find “the one”… all of these subjects intrigue me greatly, but I’ll admit however dismal a theme; I want to stick with “life”. Notice I don’t say heaven or hell, choosing the life of a pagan or a religious zealot, or death.

I’m a person who inherently doesn't believe in putting too much emphasis on the variables outside of my control – not that much of life is in my control to begin with, but I’m naïve enough to protest – that free will is driven by our choices, and more than anything how we choose to respond. Our character is gauged on how we act with the rest of the world – our family, friends, significant others, mentors, enemies, allies and the strangers on the street, who only intersect our lives for a milisecond, but the impact they make can affect us forever.

I received some beautiful emails after my last entry… and so I’m grateful that my words might resonate… I have never doubted the strength of language, however I write this with hesitation; I’ve never been quite convinced that my own words could make a difference. I type with a fervent desire to not just be heard, but for every person who reads to identify…. And walk away feeling understood.

There is great power in feeling understood.

I have a limited window of time in which I can contemplate the “cycle of existence” from afar. For the next three days, I don’t have to have closure… this whole “Death” thing has been put on pause. But the inevitable will arrive- I will wear my black cashmere sweater, there will be eulogies, and conversations consisting of weather requium. But until then I can observe life from a distance. I know come Tuesday, this calmness, this almost analytical approach in how peaceful I am could change dramatically. And that is a reality I’m trying to prepare myself to face.

Death brings out the softness in people… just like alcohol is truth serum, death draws emotion – it allows vulnerabilities to surface. And there is something terribly liberating and also terrifying about that.

Life arrives in a pretty standard format; we’re born, we learn how to walk, we attend elementary school, and we have guitar lessons and soccer practice. We undergo adolescence, we reach high school, we discover the joys associated with the opposite gender, unearth our interests, go to college and dive face first into a career… a vocation in which we’re supposed to pursue fearlessly, and we evolve into adults. Then there is the significant other, the white dress, and the mortgage; there are 2.5 children and a picket fence. There is tuition then there are caps and gowns and throwing graduation parties for your kids. They leave to start their own beginnings and you’re supposed to rekindle the sparks with your spouse and leisurely enjoy the years and compounded interest leftover. And then it’s over.

That’d be the skeletal outline… the required curriculum. There will always be the electives, the addendums, the stop-outs, the unusual diversions, the opportunities, the hells… sickness, awards, relocating, divorces, 2nd marriages, the unanticipated events that redirect our course of action. There are the lives ended abruptly, those that linger for more than a century, misfortunate, success… some born brilliant, other born with more challenges than a medical textbook could diagnose, but we all share something….

When we’re born we’re genetically wired to survive.

Some more so than others, some lives so tainted they choose to exit early, but the bottom line, the common denominator is we as homo sapiens persevere. We will ourselves to stay alive. My hope is that we fight death as a civilization because we have something valuable to offer humanity. Some skill set or ability that separates us from the masses, each of us will make a definable, a measurable difference.

But often I wonder if it’s a fear of death that keeps us running toward the future….

Sometimes sprinting so fast we don’t have time to stop and catch our breathe. And by the time we slow down, it’s too late to look in the review mirror, to carefully consider choices, to say the correct words, to be kind, to remove ourselves from toxic relationships, to learn how to cook, read enough literature, to feel wet sand between our toes? To stare into the pink and yellow and azure of a sunset until the stars are twinkling in the sky - and to risk everything in order to attain that mystical and enchanting, westernized version love. The category of love where resumes and rulebooks don’t matter…

A love to paint, to sing, to engineer something? The love to travel the world with a single suitcase, to abandon worry and forego the “status quo" … and strategize anyway possible to give that love, that dream, that feverish desire that leaves you weak at the knees a chance. The kind of love for something or someone that leaves you exhausted, empty of energy and overflowing with the rush of endorphins you can't stop grinning? The kind of love that odds and statistics and logic say - impossible... but your heart whispers, "Yes, yes you can."

There is the idiom, “Youth is wasted on the young.” … insinuating that humans are not equipped to grasp the meanings, the how-tos, the supposed-tos until we’re weathered and wrinkled. And this argument frustrates me… I want to do life right, right now.

And so I wonder if there is anyway to live in a way, in the present moment, so when we exhale for the last time… We can smile knowing there is absolutely nothing left?

A Simple Prayer

The sound of a pin drop echoes throughout the corridors, against the
white sterile walls, where doctors and nurses try to heal sick people.
Families and friends sleep in uncomfortable chairs, holding onto the
hands of the people they love, the people lying in the hospital beds,
riddled with IVs and fear.

The polished floor is cold, my knees are curled up against my chest,
my eyelids are tightly closed, I’m staring into blackness, and never
before have I prayed such a desperate prayer. Inside the quiet
hallways I hear the soft hum of machines, monitoring oxygen and blood
pressure, the shuffling of a nurse exiting a patient’s room…

To imagine the thoughts that have lived inside of these halls, the
elevators, even the parking lots… memories playing over, regret there
wasn’t more joy, regret for words said, or worse, never spoken. Then
the pleading to a God, maybe a God that person didn’t believe in just
days before… but when someone you love is sick… Sure people depend on
technology, specialists, medicine, relying on those who understand how
human bodies become ill, immune systems break down, but they’re
supposed to know how to make them healthy again, but sometimes
surgeries and chemotherapy cannot fix what’s wrong. That’s when you
pray for a freaking miracle.

Miracle has turned into a fictitious word, cultish, reserved for
children’s books and bibles. It’s so easy to drink wine around a
dinner table and profess our belief in carbon dating and evolution.
Hell it’s almost fun to scoff at the possibility of a higher being.

I can say firsthand that being sick is better than being the one
sleeping in the uncomfortable chair. The one who endures the scent of
stale flowers and morphine drips. The one who has to fake a smile, who
calls the rest of the family to give everyone updates, convey horrible
and depressing news. The one who is ushered out into the hall only to
be told that the test came back positive, the treatment isn’t working,
the infection has spread, the one who is told that this hell will only
get worse.

The parents of sick children, the children of sick parents, no, there
are no pain medications for those sleeping in the uncomfortable
chairs. There is a priest who will stop by your room, there are
counselors who can give you textbook suggestions, but there is no
remedy, time nor money can save a breaking heart…

“An August afternoon in southern Texas I was with a group of friends
from the army, I heard a distinct laugh from across the room, as
beautiful as church bells. I navigated through the people, following
this sound and discovered a woman with dark brown hair and chocolate
eyes, and red lips. And that summer day changed my life. I would come
home from work in a wrinkled shirt and beaten briefcase, with three
kids to feed. Some nights so stressed and frustrated, but when she
would wrap her arms around me and smile, that smile gave me a reason
to wake up in the morning, the woman I would fall asleep next to every
night. Her laugh was musical, is still…” He corrected himself.

“I had been in the Air Force, a WWII pilot and I never believed I
would settle down; born to be a bachelor. But then I met Ann… and well
my plan changed. I had only cared about myself, but now there was
someone in my life who I wanted to make happy. And we got married six
months later.”

A powerful CEO of a steel company at nearly eighty, he’s never spent a
single night in the hospital, he defies odds, he chuckled at fear… he
wasn’t one to be reckoned with… he’d point his index finger to the
sky, having a solution for every problem. He was the man who taught me
how to be brave. He was tough on me; he had high expectations and even
higher standards. But sitting next to me right now isn’t my
grandfather.

He is no different than any other man who just been told that the love
of his life is dying.

At 24-years old I’ve never experienced death firsthand. Counting
myself lucky that I’ve made it this far without losing anybody close,
I’m not a fool… mortality is the one aspect of life, in which we can
rely, cannot dodge, or run from… life will kill us eventually, it’s
just a matter of where, when and then the nasty reality of how. I
didn’t think the “not losing a loved one” wouldn’t change, or not yet.
I had too much left to do before I could lose someone close to me.

There are weekends as recent as last month that I chose a charity
event, a movie on my couch, I chose the things that would always be
available, instead of time with my parents’ parents. Not only are
these the people responsible for my genetic makeup; they’ve survived
wars, watched presidents succeed and fail, they’ve witnessed
generations of their own blood grow up. There is so much knowledge to
gleam, there is so much left to absorb, they weren’t frail or fragile,
or sick, but it’s so easy to forget that death doesn’t normally give
us warning, it shows up at our doorsteps uninvited when we’re
unprepared and unready.

Dancing the waltz, toasting champagne and laughing; her unmistakably
beautiful laugh, a woman vibrant with life less than a week ago is
dying in a hospital bed fifteen feet away from me. Her complexion is
pale and her body is aching and when she has enough strength to open
her eyes, they do not belong to the woman I know as my Mother’s
mother. The soft and gentle eyes belong to a patient who has been told
she has run out of options.

The seconds are passing so quickly and time will not seem to wait. And
I know that I am no different from the hundreds of people who have
whispered prayers throughout these same hospital corridors. However my
prayer is very simple, that one day I can tell people, “It was a
miracle.”

NAKED WARS

The impetuous process we call “Dating”

The game between man and woman dates back to our homo sapient era, when our ancestors were apes and bonobos. The ape is a violent and aggressive mammal – and the bonobo is the more physically affectionate. And somewhere several hundred thousands of years ago, the two species collided and thus born was the mutt: Aka: the modern day human. And what are we? Well, we’re a beautiful blend of violence and passion.

The brain games men and women heave on each other- trick and confuse the other with, are as important as they are entertaining. Call you tomorrow? Text me when? Touch me now! Oh wait I didn't mean that….. Oh my god, that’s my favorite author, entrée, pet peeve, fetish, color, and dog too!

The identical games we swear we’ll refuse to partake in, claim we'll abandon and dismiss, staking our vulnerability and independence, still rule our systematic (dare I say efficient) process. This is the brutal tri-dimensional brain game that we, as heterosexuals, seeking soul-mates succombed to.... And It's a cruel version of monopoly turned twister that Webster has defined as dating.

What is dating? Well, it can be titillating, or a lackluster filtering method to rid of the opposite gender who have failed to meet our perquisites. Yet, we still partake with the hope we'll find someone, and to possibly fill a photo album? Or dare I say, someone with whom to one day pro-actively procreate? Thus we aspire through this century-old archaic activity, sacrificing Saturday nights to unearth our westernized ideology, fantasy – aka: future of a perfect family. The man or the woman who will fit the bill (resume) will grace us with 2.7 perfectly engineered children. Whose combo of us and them produce genetics of genius, so the child will concurrently kick ass in soccer, spelling bees, and eventually attend Ivy-Leagues. Right? I don't have kids, so I could be totally wrong.

But before the birthday parties, where children bash piñatas and TV remote controls need parental control, a man and woman had to win, or in some case – they both had to lose. But however you want to phrase the copasetic agreement… there had to be a mutual “Gimme”.

This feat of finding "the one" is far more fierce and exhausting than any kind of sports playoff you can fathom – and I hate to admit, but your return on investment might not be as rewording as shorting a pitiful stock, hitting jackpot in Vegas, dominating fantasy football, or getting a Gucci purse at Saks for 80% off. No this is not only a game against the opposite gender, but it’s against yourself. A deceptive version of the tango, the perfect syncopation where drama is equally important as the irrational, and the only thing we can do....

is make sure we don’t send the last text, say the wrong thing, or pose the wrong question, and mostly not come across as totally not right

So in a culture when non-failing professionals making an above-poverty income boast individuality on a pedestal of power, what’s a single gal to do?

HAVE FUN!

PLOT SPOILER - AVATAR - WHY I REALLY LOVED IT!!!

Okay before you read be warned: I discuss the ending to this AMAZING movie, but let’s be honest what producer can spend $500 million on groundbreaking technology for 3-d animation, and glorious cinematography to boot. And then have a depressing ending? Nope. Optimistic and broke America won’t have it... Nor will The Academy (ak: Oscars). At the very least (after the trashy, violent and occasionally inane entertainment we watch) movie producers can give people some hope as they wander out to parking lots with their 3D glasses and popcorn hangovers. That said, Titanic did turn out rather depressing, so perhaps James Cameron can keep those of us familiar with his motion pictures, on our toes.

Why did this film out of all the half-dozen per year I see (I’m famous for my lack of pop culture knowledge) tug at our innermost guts and swoon? It’s truly the meeting, melding of Walt Disney and Pixar with some Mother goose and American history woven in…

CAUTION: I've been writing about politics far too much lately, that and other serious issues... and so thought I'd take trivial and observational for a spin!

Themes:
Magical Ecology is in combat with the Americans who are exploiting and pillaging and eventually monetizing metals that do not belong to them, but rather belong to The Avatar People…. Side Bar: Just to defend the mystical trees where the jellyfish bugs live (this will make sense in several paragraphs) if there is a more powerful version of the internet lurking in weeping willow trees, I’m all about conservation... Oh yeah, and the main theme; unconventional love!

Set the scene: You’ve got a tropicalesque world (PLANET PANDORA) with a combination of Star-Wars/Jurassic Park characters on a Neon Fern Gully-esque planet. You also have a “Human” space-zone where you can find the familiar helos, artillery, the whole nine yards. Think, base camp perhaps? We meet the protagonist who is veteran, whose moniker is “meals on wheels,” he is as pathetic as he is endearing (and handsome)…While it’s discovered that his brain is “beautiful” we learn that it isn’t his shrewdness that saves the planet, but his courageous and dedicated heart.

FYI: We’re not talking X-MEN genius. At first we think it’s all about smarts with Jake, but it’s about emotion, acceptance, vulnerability, all those things that mitigate brain cells and directly target audience’s aching souls… Dramatic, huh? You should hear some of the one-liners!

So the obvious protagonist is the mysteriously simple, who has lost his twin brother in war… With no woman in the picture, no life really, no functional legs, surrounded by a bunch of scientists and ravenous capitalists, convinced he isn’t’ capable of the task… While the sexy military thing does a lot for the audience it really works against him when he is abandoned out in the wilderness where monsters and goblins reside. BINGO: Born the perfect character to feel accepted in a voo-doo/glow-in-the-dark rain forest with a badass hottie, MEET Neytiri, teaching him the skills to pay the bills (or become an official tribal member).

THEN….. There is the intriguing MATRIX twist (that appeals to the those born before 1985)… where his brain is connected to his human body, and his “Avatar” body is connected to his human brain… oh quite the complicated Ménage à trois. So however much he loves the Na'vi people, he is forever plastered in his human body… Let’s just hope this doesn’t encourage America’s children to jump headfirst into cyber space and connect over Play Station…

Okay let’s go ahead and cut to the chase. So the REAL reason why I’m ABSOLUTELY obsessed is because of this sweet and terribly inconvenient amour that brings these two little lovebirds, ak: crippled Marine spy and alien-version of Pocahontas together. FIRST: Neytiri is about to kill Jake, but there is a little cotton ball/jelly-fish bug that lands on her bow and arrow, inspiring her to instead of murder him, save his life (or his Avatar body). He follows her like a lost and befuddled man, but once again the all-alluring omnipresent (ak: Jelly Fish things, which is actually from the “ENYRA” trees steps in again)…. She realizes that she must bring him home to her clan, folks and such.

We’re about 40 minutes into the film. SO FAR: nothing is a matter of free will, so far “signs” have determined the fate of these folks, which is fascinating to me… What does that say about American Culture? There is something warm and fuzzy about “supposed to” right? That all the “signs” will point us in the right “fated” direction, I believe the reason why we like the illusion of “Fate” is because it negates any possibility of risking the “Screw Up”– well, because if it’s "supposed to" it will regardless of a screw up, and if not… well let’s get a move on! But if it’s all in our control we could mess up or miss out big time. FYI: the idea of fate is nice for the busy girl like myself, the more decisions I can outsource the better! That said, I also consider "supposed to" a quasi-weak position of default, I'd rather to believe I carve my own path, make my own decisions... I know, you're totally thinking "control freak".

Neytiri’s parents insist she educate and teach “enemy retard” how to be part of her clan. This feels very “Lion-King” … (SIDE PLOT: Man she is “pre-arranged to marry wants to kill Jake… do I sense a little, Shrek?) Nice little bonus: Mating immediately equates marriage… sort of a hybrid version of Common Law. Oh yeah, and each warrior has his or her own dragon. That said, I totally dig all the mono relationships – dragons and warriors, man and woman… Each person has a little “antennae” that links to the animal or significant other's antennae, and immediately you subconsciously connect… very special. FYI: The following animals mate for life: Gibbon apes, wolves, termites, coyotes, barn owls, beavers, bald eagles, golden eagles, condors, swans, brolga cranes, French angel fish, sandhill cranes, pigeons, prions (a seabird), red-tailed hawks, anglerfish, ospreys, prairie voles (a rodent), and black vulture..

Notice Homo sapiens aren’t on that list?


SO as the plot thickens TWO Things happen while he is melding into the Avartian culture:
1. He remembers how nice it is to have legs. He enjoys the wilderness, the fresh air (which is carbon monoxide to humans)… oh yeah and he is falling madly, smitten.
2. He is also realizing that his life as a human sucks and might be worth nixing in an exchange to make this “alternate-reality” reality.

SIDE HISTORICAL NOTE: Humans, ak: Rabid Free Market Zealots are mining for “Unobtainium” (COULD CAMERON BE MORE SUBSTLE?) under the Avatar “tree of life” thus human’s reason for killing off the indigenous. I believe this is metaphorical for the “early settlers” ak: Christopher Columbus days?

SO back to the juicy love story: Neytiri tells Jake it is time for him to select a dame, he replies that he has in fact already chosen, but the real choice is hers, -… get the tissues. The passion builds. Voila, they mate (not as procreate, but as in PG-13 version for consummate), conclude they’re a couple. Ooooo the suspense is building… Will he abandon his wheel chair and McDonalds for his true love and net Hammocks? (I sure would – who doesn’t like a nap in a comfortable hammock?) How is it that Disney/Pixar, can make the passion of Lions, a Beauty/Beast, Dogs, Mice, Aliens… so umm… real? Hmm… I’ve never identified while watching the above at a zoo or the Discovery channel, but you name any movie and I swoon. Cameron really perfected the personification of the animal.

Back to the “Shrek” angle. For a moment Jake is dying (again) and Neytiri jumps, rather leaps through broken glass to save him with a human oxygen mask. An Amazonian vibe; a large blue woman is cradling a malnourished and poorly shaven man; it is mesmerizing and powerful moment no less… that there is truly no wall, whether it's the air we breathe or the bodies we inhibit that prohibits love. OOOO. What’s even cooler is that this ex-marine sans legs falls for something outside of his realm, his relatable stratosphere, and he himself becomes the hero and leader of an entire Planet Pandora (don’t ya know) that he was once trying to destroy, oh yeah…


Lessons to Take Away:

- Nature: And its keepers/protectors (Indians/aliens) will always persevere, especially if it/they glow in the dark.
- Career: Hunters and Gathers don’t have to worry about income taxes.
- Love: Can exist between any two species as long as they're part of the same Genus biological classification.
- Stereotypes are rubbish. There is a chance that those you assume are the most different from you are actually those with whom you feel the most at home.

ALICE in Afghanistan...

Remember when the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland was happily smoking his hookah? Hypothetically speaking, chances are that opium came from Afghanistan… No doubt, the metaphor is a stretch, but interesting, right?

Before I begin consider two things:
1. Afghanistan produces 93% of the global
supply of heroin.
2. Afghan heroin is estimated to kill more than 10,000 people a year in NATO
countries…more than five times the NATO troop losses from combat

Here is a report that General McCaffrey recently released:http://www.west-point.org/publications/McCaffrey~November2009.pdf

Just fyi: I’m writing purely from the civilian bystander... so I offer my thoughts only to illustrate what the average Homer Simpson thinks! AND btw: I’m a big fan of Orwell. Ak: Watch out for the animal similes and cynical outbursts. So take what I type with a bucket of salt. No doubt I’m a bit irreverent on the political front, but I must tell you re: General McCaffery- his comment “women are in many cases are merely abused property with less opportunity than a donkey,” in a scholarly document left a bitter taste in my mouth. Now if he could prove that statement up with some factual opportunity-cost/real estate based formula proving such a margin, it might be okay. That said, much of what he said really resonated with my inner journalist.


DTR: Let's define the relationship!

I've heard Obama speak it (and Blitzer and Bush and Gare- with a menagerie of vocabulary terms!) I want to hear that the military and Obama agree! We need to clarify any objective that taps into our own limited resources (the war has a burn rate of $9 billion a month), time, energy, blood. Obama needs to be honest here - It’s far too difficult to give Afghanistan and its 28 million residents a facelift, eradicate drug farming (which generated $200-400 million revenue to al-Qaeda last year), dispose of poverty (5 million starving children) and educate an illiterate population (70%), oh and wait hold peaceful and honest elections in the next 18 months. (Unless we were on amphetamines, but I doubt McCaffrey (a former Drug Czar) would be in favor of that.) If we’re going to have America “Fix” Afghanistan, we need to be realistic about revamping a country full of landmines and starving zealots. What resources beyond money/military should we seek? Hmm. Maybe we can start issuing Afghan treasury... kidding. But seriously, albeit the monetary concerns, can we truly figure out what is wrong? Why this particular country, a land that neither Alexander the Great or the Soviets could tame... has been screwed from the get-go?

WHO/WHAT are we fighting?
Are we (US, EU, NATO) just losing dollars and lives, or are we killing the infectious and rapturous spread of Al-Qaeda? Notice, how many times McCaffrey used the term al-Qaeda in his memorandum!! FYI: Once. He also seemed to vacillate between Afghans being warm and receptive to our efforts and then will quickly jump to how they stone their wives. It seems implausible one could institute in a 21st century-democracy in what is easily a 14th century violent land of religious babble? Now Iraq has worked, is working… but again, we were fighting a system predicated on “human-interest” while it was one human by the name of Sadam Hussein, and his own self-interest, he still didn’t want to die. I’ll throw Iran in there too, while Ahmadinejad isn’t one for compromise, at least he has an email address. Whereas we’re working against the Taliban, they are growing more fierce, not to immediately link them to Al-Qaeda but my question is: Does the military know who in the Taliban is harboring terrorists versus those who are just misogynist lunatics? Hmm... Is there such a thing as an Al-Qaedian mousetrap? I feel like that could be a decent joke.

Again, Sadam was archaic, corrupt and selfish - he lived in a castle. Whereas Bin Laden has clearly capitalized on every communicational device, uses viral networking and does splendid job advertising himself to the masses and still manages to live in a cave. Different scenario entirely. Media/Press need to better articulate the differences in this "warfare" it's easy to lump the Middle East together.

And from a marketing position (use Bush round 2 as the beta) it’s a hell of a lot easier to sell “PROTECTING AMERICANS” than spending billions of dollars helping starving and angry men see the light in micro lending (as I don’t see them jumping on Wall Street). And while Bush has definitely forced Obama to backtrack and reestablish our responsibility as it relates to spreading democracy. I’m a firm believer in instituting democracy and I think it can be done, in baby steps. America did it on its own, and we broke many of the our own “sacred text.” There was no British satellite surveillance or Red Cross workers. Resources were abundant. And what we really did wrong - we shoved/killed Native Americans out of our way, and we “in-sourced” a chunk of Africa. Democracy was not built with democracy, but something much darker. So we cannot expect countries to build what we did without the same resources, tools or bylaws, and abide by our strict regulations. So how does America compensate for this inequitable difference, or better account for it when we're reprimanding countries for not replicating our model?

NARCOTIC CLEANSING
Re: Drugs – okay, well first off let’s go ahead and check the “Why are upwards of 2 million people doing opium” off the list. Afghanistan is a miserable country, providing an even more miserable existence. McCaffery is right that we need to substitute opium farming 7,700 metric tons with any type of alternative - I want to talk about my new seatmate pal (international Cambridge humanitarian and James Beard winner) Frances Lappe, but will save that for another email…. Essentially, I agree. Let’s find the cost of burning down the opium fields (the fiscal costs incurred in addition to the risk involved- talk about creating some local jobs!) and THEN DO IT. IF we can legitimize taking a country over (ak: US Department of Defense plans on spending billions over the next decade building a police force) then we should be able to burn some fields. I’m serious – have they actually done this?

My personal solution would be a campaign on rebranding the enemy. Americans have become CONFUSED with who the Al-Qaeda is, Hamas that, Shiehks blah blah blah (okay, Sheikhs are a little different), but let’s not let people forget there is one group independent from the rest – those who are out to get us.

Okay, work with me: There is a joke that the only thing that will ever bring about world government is aliens invading.

And quite frankly it wouldn’t hurt people to receive al-Qaeda in the same vain they might look upon a lower-key “alien” invasion. They place no value on human life, thus their “soldiers” are dispensable.

Where is the bumper sticker that reads, Alien Invasion: translation: Al-Qaeda. They're after something that has nothing to do with salvaging, protecting, defending - they dont' even want our awesome land... their mission is like none other, it's inhuman. While I’d never suggest a world government, I would suggest that the world build an alliance. While these “Middle-Eastern Aliens” happen to have beards and turbans and appear quasi-human like, what does make them “intrinsically” the same as aliens is, they don’t blink at the face of death. So we (as democratic freedom fighters) need to strategize how to defeat one who operates without the incentive of life, health, prosperity, etc. Ak: While Hitler was a nut job, at least he valued Germans. And while I’d again never suggest a global order - a new type of "militia" I would hope the global media (Larry King and a few features on CNBC) would take the energy to revisit the notion that al- Qaeda is simply a leftover of angry Taliban who are sick of America liberties and exposed skin, but rather a cult whose cause reaches beyond human life, so much so, it can justify any resulting death. Not to bring China into the mix, however I want to point out that it wouldn’t shock me in ten-twenty years if al-Qaeda efforts were relocated. Not that China can boast the next Britney Spears, but they are communist and we already saw what happened the last time the Taliban were annoyed with fundamental Marxists. Anyway, it’s been argued we indirectly/underhandedly funded these guys during the Cyclone (right?) but isn’t it interesting how one could argue China is under handily funding them now.

That said, I really hope some economist out there is projecting how the world would operate sans American consumerism and our enthusiasm…. I mean what other country supports a filibuster to happen? We’d go back to the middle ages, where we all looked the same and spoke different languages.

At the end of the day (and the end of really long emails) I remember this old adage: “Put your oxygen mask on first before assisting a child.” In this case: Afghanistan is the child.


I’ll stop for now. But in brief:
1. Rebrand the enemy
2. Recognize the DRUG problem – MEDIA has faltered here. Farming illegal drugs are means to survival – and while a lot of that is poured into al-Qaeda there aren’t a lot of alternatives. This is where we can reach out globally and redefine who cares about drug problems, and what they’re willing to do – also an opportunity to tap into American brains. ***This is an arena where Dems/Repubs and the occasional Socialist can get along.
3. Be honest. A crucial, but simple point: Any Afghan regardless of how earnest and genetically wired to be grateful for US intervention will identify far more with a Taliban than an American, and changing that could take generations, if ever.
4. Annex Canada. (KIDDING... I just find it funny when people suggest that as a solution to whatever problem is discussed!)