Osama bin Laden

Imagine a schoolyard fight. Two kids going at it. Perhaps it is a bully and the one being bullied. But for the purposes of this post, that doesn't matter. Now imagine that the two kids who have a grudge against each other, imagine that they don't actually do the fighting. Their representatives, their followers, their lackeys--whatever you want to call them--they're the ones in the thick of it, taking the shots and the injuries. Maybe that sounds odd that the ones who hold a grudge aren't the ones fighting. But isn't that what a violent gang is--with leaders and followers? Or a mob? Or a country?

So often wars are started by politicians and leaders but fought by the citizens or the followers. Those risking their lives and dying often fight only because their leader said so. And because the followers share their leader's ideology, they blindly carry out the orders. These soldiers never are tried for murder, are never a defendant in a murder trial.

On May 2, 2011 a group of Navy Seals killed the leader of al Qaeda, Osama bin Laden, by orders from the President and his security team. While many think this is a good move, there are some who think that bin Laden deserved a trial or some sort of due process. Why? When a U.S. soldier shoots an Iraqi or Afghani, does anyone ask about trials then? Shouldn't that Iraqi plead for his life in a court before our soldier puts a bullet in his brain? Sure that Iraqi may be a rebel or--even worse--an innocent, but why is Osama bin Laden more deserving a trial? He isn't. In fact, the opposite is true. Osama was the leader, the mastermind, behind 9/11. He was the one with the grudge against us. When we killed him we killed the schoolyard bully, not the bully's proxies. And because he was the bully, it was a more "ethical" kill than killing Osama's lackeys.

Yes, in an ideal world Osama bin Laden would have had a trial. But in an ideal world we wouldn't be at war with three nations. Because killing one and killing a million is still killing.

Procrastination

So...I've been meaning to post something here for some time, get a productive blog going again. But what to post? What about that demon that's been haunting me lately: Procrastination. If he had a form, he'd be a fat, lazy, slovenly man with belly-button lint caking his navel and clothes that haven't been washed in at least a week. I once wrote a meta prose poem about him:

Procrastination melts your time into a river of laziness and lassitude. It’s a sleep without dreams or memory. One minute you’re here, the next, hours later, you’re still…here. You can trace time, tell it, “Yes, I was doing something.” Time will shake its head and say, “Nothing meaningful.” “Nothing meaningful,” you echo, raising your metaphorical fists into the metaphorical air, screaming, “Damn you, Procrastination.” Then you calm, briefly, to reflect, to stop feeling bad for yourself. And you realize, and by you I mean me, you realize in these late hours, “I wrote this poem because of Procrastination.” And so you must bow, bow deeply to all the gods of despair.

I guess he does have some uses. He sort of prompted me to write this blog entry in the first place. And he does make you do interesting things. Earlier today I wrote up a grammar and vocabulary for a language instead of working on the novel I really should be working on. Still, I prefer the attractive woman feeding me ideas (how I picture my Muse) to the fat man slowing me down. Of course, maybe She's not the type of Muse I need: