After Downing Street

I have been derelict the last couple of days in not posting on the Conyers letter, on the BBA, on the great efforts of Shakespeare's Sister, and much else. These long weekends of patient care wipe me out.

Had to make a Pharmacy run this morning, though, and got to read Mark Danner's NYRB piece (which includes the Downing Street Memo text), so go look at it if you haven't already (it's free). I recall talking to a buddy in UK, just before the invasion, about its seeming inevitability, how every alternate avenue had been shut off not by Hussein, but by - ahem - us. I recall an Op-Ed in the WaPo (which I thought I had saved, but no luck), which suggested, instead of invasion, a massive military presence to back up the UN weapons exams - holding a gun to Saddam's head, in other words. Big enough a gun to encourage his bravado to crumble, especially as we now know it was bravado, without a shot.

Our fucking genius big-balled leaders, of course, couldn't consider that - they'd been stroking hard for months and only a monster load - remember "Shock and Awe"? - would relieve the pressure. That's not wanking - that's rape and pillage. And now, they're spent - spent in blood, spent in wasted seed (all those $80 billion missing bucks), spent in faith, spent in honor.