2003 / march / 19
Frisch und Fröhlich
V. sad. We can only hope for the best now.
These words keep ringing in my head: 'Ein frischen, fröhlichen Krieg' - that
was the mood in 1914. A short war that'd be over soon.
I'll be glad to see Saddam go. Well, who wouldn't? The worldwide disgust against
this coming war has more to do with Bush playing bully than with the actual
horrors of war.
The facade of the disarmament has been dropped now by the US/UK alliance, it
seems, and I wish they'd done it earlier. I can maybe swallow a true
liberation war against a true tyrant, especially if it seems supported by
a considerable part of the Iraqi refugee communities. Though I am
utterly disgusted at Bush ignoring the international community.
So it may work. Who can tell now.
But it is such a gamble (*). My god. Let us pray for the best, for that
frischen, fröhlichen Krieg, instead of Saddam pulling a Samson.
I'm Reading 'The feast of the goat' by Mario Vargas Llosa right now.
You can't tell what goes on in the mind of a dictator, but this book has
eerie thoughts spread liberally on its pages.
Two hours to go. Tension as I'm typing this, Newsnight in the background. What a silly, silly world we make this. This earth, our own tragedy.
(*) Speaking of gambling: that's one more thing you're not allowed in
Texas. Funny. Someone I know
- 'The names have been changed, to protect the innocent' -
who grew up in Texas told
me that her father, a compulsive gambler,
played poker with the governor.
After retiring, her father moved to Las Vegas. I kid you not.
It must've been at least fifteen years ago, and probably more in the
direction of thirty, so
the governor in question
never made it to the whitehouse.
