THE SEVEN YEAR TEARS or How Chucklepuss Got A Heart

Chucklepuss played the Tin Man yesterday, as he presented the Medal of Honor to, Sally and George Monsoor, the parents of slain Navy SEAL Michael A. Monsoor, who threw himself on a grenade to save his comrades. Chucklepuss stood there and his lips slightly quivered like a person with actual feelings. I had my doubts for a moment, but then I noticed actual tears streaming down his cheeks for this brave soldier, as the over 4000 before him, who have given their lives in the Iraqi War. My only question is, “what f***ing took you so long?”

Chucklepuss, it took you seven years to cry for a death in this war of yours. That’s over twenty-five hundred days and dead American soldier number, 4020 to make you finally shed a tear and show some kind of emotion for a loss or tragedy under your watch. Tell me, Chuckles. The countless Iraqi civilians that have been killed during your oil war—I mean War on Terrorism— that doesn’t make you cry? The genocide in Darfur that you seem to ignore like it will just go away-- that doesn’t make you cry? The heartless murders and rapes that take place there like mail delivery -- that doesn’t make you cry? The number of lives that were probably lost during Hurricane Katrina because you waited three days to act and then turned down assistance from Hugo Chavez and Fidel Castro because of politics -- that doesn’t make you cry? The out of control, spiraling American economy because of your insistent borrowing money from around the globe -- that doesn’t make you cry? Thousands of Americans are losing their homes because of a number of your friends and their predatory loans -- that doesn’t make you cry? The fifty percent public high school drop out rate, which your so-called, No Child Left Behind program, has no doubt contributed to on a daily basis – that doesn’t make you cry?

I mean what is it about Michael Monsoor’s death, which is by no means less than any other death, that made you finally shed a tear Chucklepuss? Because I am, to say the least, confused. Are you tear ducts sealed shut? Do your tear ducts not exist? Is there some kind of special presidential salve made especially for the President, so he won’t cry in potentially emotional situations? Is it some kind of CIA secret your dad taught you on a family vacation. Just help me understand, Chucklepuss, how it took you seven years to shed tears and this country has been shedding them for those same seven years. What is it that over 300 million people have been feeling that you haven’t until today, the 5th year anniversary of “Mission Accomplished” (remember that Chuckle, I thought you did)?

Now follow me! Follow me to freedom!

METAPHORS FROM THE WIRE

If you are a frequent reader of The Bastille, I will assume, you know that I am a fan of the critically acclaimed HBO television series, The Wire. Since I won’t be seeing any new episodes, I went back to watch the earlier seasons on DVD. I’m presently halfway through the fourth season, which focused on the eroding Baltimore school system. I noticed that this epic show runs some parallels with real life, so humor this entry.

In the episode titled, “That’s Got his Own”, there’s a scene in which, Namond Brice, wannabe corner boy and offspring of Wee-Bay Brice (former #1 soldier for the Barksdale drug crew) comes clean about who he is. In front of boxing coach/former Barksdale soldier, Cutty and a policeman, Sgt. Carver, Namond says through his tears, “I can’t do it. I can’t. She wants me to be like my father. I can’t be him.” Namond’s overbearing mother has forced Namond to get his own “packages” and sling dope on the streets of Baltimore. She expects Namond to be the man that Wee-Bay was and let me tell you, DNA does not a ‘street soldier’ make. Namond has cracked and realized that he isn’t built to run a drug crew and be the man of his house at the age of thirteen. She has spoiled Namond rotten for years with the expectation that he would be a true earner like his father, Wee-Bay. Well, don’t go chasing waterfalls lady.


Namond’s actions began to remind me so much of George. W. “Chucklepuss” Bush, I was perplexed by the similarities. Chucklepuss was a young spoiled, brat, who has been protected all his life by mommy and daddy and been groomed for “the game” (aka US government). Chucklepuss brags about his family being in “the game” (see Chuckle in documentary “Farenheight 9/11”) and wants to enter the “the game”, despite his lack of experience and heart. Chucklepuss’ actions are so Namod Brice, I want to see him get a patented “Namond” ponytail.

Now if you are a fan of “The Wire”, take a moment and feel me on this. Namond’s mom (a composite of George Sr. and Barbara) got former Barksdale soldier, Bodie (a composite of George Sr’s friends and administration) to help Namond (Chucklepuss) get started with a “package” (the presidency). Now Chucklepuss has been steadily f***ing up his “package”(just like Namond) over the past seven years—going on eight. But Chucklepuss, unlike Namond, has got Barksdale muscle (i.e. Dick “There Will Be Blood” Cheney, Karl “Liar, Liar” Rove, etc.) to cover up his incompetent leadership. With that type of muscle, Chucklepuss has been able to take over federal budget, the Justice system, spread “democracy” to Iraq and destroy the U.S. Constitution. So it is safe to say, that Chucklepuss has taken over all the Westside corners, from where the Towers once stood to downtown, Baghdad --- I mean Baltimore. I would like to believe that Chucklepuss has broken down and cried like Namond once or twice about this quagmire called The Iraqi War, but then I think better of myself and less of him.

I once recall Namond, “punking out”, when our quartet of boys got into a fight with some boys from the Eastside, and then running away in fear, when he saw Michael getting beat down by two boys. It recalls the morning of 9/11, when Chucklepuss shuffled off and flew to Shreveport and no one knew his whereabouts for a few hours. There was also the time 10 year-old Kenard stole money from, Namond and he had to get Michael to help him get his money back from Kenard. This incident recalls how Chucklepuss had to get his daddy and Bill Clinton to help, allay the ire of people, over the government’s slow response to Hurricane Katrina. Chucklepuss is Namond Brice, a fraud of a kid riding on his daddy’s rep in the street hoping that his secret will never be exposed. Bottom line, I think we all accept that there are many Namond Brices in this world holding down corners, but we don't want them holding the office of Presidency of the United States.

Now follow me! Follow me to freedom!

DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!

Let My People Go!

Charles Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments

I want to pay my respects to actor and former NRA president, Charles “Moses” Heston, who passed at the age of eighty-four. Born John Charles Carter, Moses was a well-lauded actor and damn sure, conservative, with his pro-life support and gun rights support. Not as well publicized is that Moses also pounded the pavement with Dr. Martin Luther King for civil rights. Dr. King repeatedly would thank Chuck for his tireless support. He became famous for his acting and starring in films like Ben Hur (for which he won the Oscar), Moses in The Ten Commandments and the sc-fi film classic, Planet of the Apes as Taylor, the surviving astronaut on a, well, planet of apes. Known for his chiseled good looks, he starred in the epic film, as Moses, when it wasn’t really chic or accepted that Moses was really a colored guy. Heston stood for civil rights, but he wasn’t giving up that Moses gig, huh? In his latter years, Moses was a stand up guy for the right to bear arms and was famously played in the Michael Moore film, "Bowling for Columbine". I must say his rugged acting and delivery of lines were quite entertaining. In the sequel to Planet of the Apes, titled Beneath the Planet of the Apes (didn't see that title coming) Heston's character Taylor's last words were him cursing out a baboon, "You bloody bastard!" If you don't want to watch Heston's film on DVD, watch the CGI comedy "Madagascar" and watch the leader of the penguins. I'm quite sure he's channeling a comedic version of Heston, but I am not here to rib and jest Moses. So, I’ll wrap up this eulogy by paying the only tribute that I can, "Get your stinking paws off me you damn dirty ape!”

Now follow me! Follow me to freedom!