Happypoet.com

(remembering March 20th, 2003)

Our president launched this war with the promise to the Iraqi people of “no more torture chambers and rape rooms. The tyrant will soon be gone.”
Robert Scheer: When We’re the Evildoers in Iraq

Now at least a few U.S. troops and private contractors have been abusing prisoners there, and the symbolism has not been lost on people throughout Iraq–and throughout the Arab and Muslim world.

Some of these photos first appeared on “60 Minutes II” on April 28. Seymour Hersh in the latest issue of The New Yorker elaborates on them. Hersh got a hold of an internal Army investigative report written by Major General Antonio M. Taguba, who cited “sadistic, blatant, and wanton abuses.” Here are some of Taguba’s descriptions of the abuse, as quoted by Hersh: “Breaking chemical lights and pouring the phosphoric liquid on detainees; pouring cold water on naked detainees; beating detainees with a broom handle and a chair; threatening male detainees with rape; allowing a military police guard to stitch the wound of a detainee who was injured after being slammed against the wall in his cell; sodomizing a detainee with a chemical light and perhaps a broom stick, and using military working dogs to frighten and intimidate detainees with threats of attack, and in one instance actually biting a detainee.”

The report also describes several instances of sexual humiliation. One picture, which was widely shown on television though the details were obscured, was of a female soldier “giving a jaunty thumbs-up sign and pointing at the genitals of young Iraqi, who is naked except for a sandbag over his head, as he masturbates.” Other testimony indicated that U.S. soldiers made some of the male Iraqi prisoners simulate oral sex.

Editor Matthew Rothschild comments on the news of the day

The current controversy “is an exception,” [Rumsfeld] said. “The pattern and practice of the Saddam Hussein regime was . . . to murder and torture, and the killing fields are filled with mass graves. And equating the two, I think, is a fundamental misunderstanding of what took place.”
Fred Barbash and Lexie Verdon Rumsfeld Calls Prisoner Abuse ‘Deeply Disturbing’

The U.S. military has investigated the deaths of 25 prisoners held by American forces in Iraq and Afghanistan and determined that two prisoners were murdered by Americans, one an Army soldier and the other a CIA contractor, Army officials said on Tuesday.
U.S. Probe: Two War Prisoners Murdered by Americans

U.S. Marines fired a rocket and dropped a 500lb laser-guided bomb on a mosque compound in the Sunni Moslem city of Fallujah today, killing up to 40 people, according to witnesses.
US Marines Bomb Mosque Compound in Battle with Militants

“I don’t agree that you need an enormous number of American troops.
Saddam’s army is down to one-third than it was before, and I think it
would be a cakewalk.” – Kenneth Adelman, Defense Policy Board, to Wolf
Blitzer on CNN, 12-06-01

“The fact of the matter is that this (increased American casualties) is
a sign of the success of our operation, not its failure.” – Ralph Reed,
GOP strategist, on MSNBC’s program ‘Hardball,’ 10-28-03

“There are some who feel that, you know, the conditions are such that
they can attack us there. My answer is, bring ’em on. We have the force
necessary to deal with the situation.” – George W. Bush, Chicago
Tribune, 07-03-03

“Victory means exit strategy, and it’s important for the President to
explain to us what the exit strategy is.” – George W. Bush, discussing
Kosovo, Houston Chronicle, 04-09-99

“I’m the commander – see, I don’t need to explain – I don’t need to
explain why I say things. That’s the interesting thing about being the
President. Maybe somebody needs to explain to me why they say something,
but I don’t feel like I owe anybody an explanation.” – George W. Bush,
Washington Post, 11-19-02

“Why should we hear about body bags and deaths and how many, what day
it’s gonna happen? It’s not relevant. So why should I waste my beautiful
mind on something like that?” – Barbara Bush, said on ‘Good Morning
America’ the day before the Iraq War started, New York Times, 01-13-03

Sometimes you dont need to say anything to prove a point.

Wilbur

Out of all the professors Ive met at UL, there are only a few that I would care to keep in touch with after I am finished with my MA Thesis.

Ian Kinsella: Instructor of courses based in English and Humanities, though mainly Humanities these days. He holds strong beliefs that border the paranoid, insights rebelious teens to strike out against the system, deplores the path the Universities are taking towards a more “job” oriented atmosphere away from the Humanities, reads and has read more books than most Professors I know, and has the uncanny ability to point to a book on his shelf and quote a passage that is not only relevant to the discussion, but encompasses the entire argument. Watch My Dinner with Andre and you will know his cornerstone. (“But I like my electric blanket.”)

Dr. Honneger: Linguist schooled in Formal Theory. He argues that he rides the fence, but in my opinion that fence is placed a few yards off center on the Formalist side. Judges every new idea with a method of imagining the extreme interpretations. If the idea becomes flawed at the extremes, he dismisses the idea.

Dr Christopher Healy: New “kid” on the block, with the same attitude I like to pretend I have. Cocky and maybe a little arrogant, but then he deserves to be having focused his career on dead languages.

Dr James Anderson: Failed me, with good reason, my last undergraduate semester. Not only inspired me to learn grammar and use it(which I am probably not doing now), but also tweak my knowledge about Language. One of the main influences in me attempting to become a Linguist. Despises incompetance, ignorance, and apathy, which is in abundance of the faculty and students in probably most of the world. Unfortunately, he is a Jesuit trained teacher trying to regain his memories of learning and knowledge during a time when speed and entertainment are more important than truth and accuracy.

Dr Claiborne Rice: Amanda says we are two peas in a pod. She might be correct. He like the rest plays devils advocate, except exceedingly well. He has changed my mind on numerous occasions, because I couldnt combat his logic. He enjoys discussing my failings, which there are many, before others and myself. I accept him to be an honest man, which may be a flaw on my part, but he has never hesitated to tell me the truth about my work or ideas. He gave me my first taste of Linguistics. Having entered into college with only the notion that I didnt want to concentrate in something I spent 7 years doing, Literature and Creative Writing, I decided that Linguistics sounded appealing to me. I knew nothing about Linguistics other than it involved Language. I took Cognitive Poetics with him and remained lost throughout most of the class because I couldnt grasp all of the ideas. I had been thrust into an awkward teaparty which I knew no one at and was being forced to carry on like I was good friends with everyone. The only thought which completely took over my mind was that I was in love. The idea that you could throw science screaming its way at literature and watch beautiful things happen intrigued and fueled me. I hope one day I will be considered a Linguist. I hope I never tire his patience of me.

I want to say, “What the hell? Phil, I think your making a big mistake. I think you will not finish your MA degree and will find some crappy minimum wage job you will hate for the rest of your life.” Then I examine my life and realize I am completeling an MA degree, with very little prospects of getting a job which will use it. I am tired of the hoops. Buy a fucking tiger, they gracefully jump through flame, while I singe my skin every stumble.

Landlord gave us until June 30 to move out. She was polite about it. Some family of hers need a place to stay, so we have to find a new house/apartment/leanto. David doesnt want to live with us anymore because he has a strange notion that moving back in with mother and dad is a good thing. I cant go back. I have a crappy job which I hate, which makes me miss my school, I guess Im the only thing making me stay there. I want to teach. I want to sleep at night. I want to eat sushi. I want a change. I want my electric blanket.

I do not know what will happen or where I will be in three months let alone 6. I hope it somewheres nice. I am tired of crap.

I am bankrupt, poor, but I still cant quit my job. I sometimes wish I could be shot, or get crumpled by a car. A moment of agony or terror would put meaning into my life, would allow me to realize whether I care.

I am tired. I have a headache, which I have had for a few years. My mind wants to decay and rot.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a communist society at least I wouldnt have to worry about rent or food.

Wilbur

Well Ive gone and done it. I did a comestic change to the website. I would like some feedback as to the sight especially about the new navigation menu. Is it to complicated? Too hard to read?

I might never change again so get while the fire’s hot.

Wilbur

A good friend of mine, Shai, reminded me that today we should remember the Armenian Genocide. He asks that we light a candle in remembrance of the innocent civilians who were murdered in Ottoman Turkey between the years 1890 – 1915.

Here is a website which is dedicated to collecting information about the Armenian Genocide.

Its the least an ignorant American can do.

Wilbur

First off, I successfully passed my MA Comps. This means I only have to complete and defend my Thesis to finish.

Last week was pretty rough. Tuesday morning I came home from work coughing my throat sore. I took some medicine passed out woke only a few times for the next couple of days. I had wanted to finish up this semesters work, interview for a second job, and otherwise enjoy the week. At least I didnt get sick during a week I had to go to class.

The funeral was Saturday. David and I read before everyone. David had a touching description of how guilty he was before she died. I didnt stand a chance. I got up to read my piece – a poem I had written – spoke the words, “Let me first say this is not a funeral no matter what you have been led to belief. We have not asked you here to mourn. This is a celebration,” with tears streaking down my face. I doubt anyone could make out my garbled, voice cracking, high pitch, cold induced speech. As someone who likes to call himself a poet, it was one of my worst readings. I stood up on the podium sobbing as I read the poem hoping they could understand me. There was a moment I almost pull myself together. About 1/2 way through the poem, I took a deep breath looked down and saw both my parents crying. After that, I couldnt stop. Its a strange experience to stand in front of a mixed crowd of strangers, family and friends fighting yourself to stop crying, so you can finish reading.

Afterwards, everyone thanked David and me for reading. Some agreed with our words. Other told us of their memories.

That night back at my mother’s, I listened to stories and memories from all the family. Some I had never seen. I talked with Claudine (my aunt), Michelle(my cousin), and mother for as long as I could. These have become are reunions. The weddings and funerals. I think thats why my mother was so upset with not getting invited to Eric’s wedding. Its one of the few times she gets to see the family.
Most of the family didnt get to make it here this time. Mike and Yvette couldnt come because Mike was in Haiti working. Unfortunately Solemon, their son, misinterpreted the news about grandmother and thought Mike had died. He wouldnt leave Yvette’s side. Luckily Mike was able to come home Saturday evening. Elisabeth was in California, Terry was in Portland, and both couldnt afford to come. Unfortunately John is in Afghanistan as navigator in the Air Force. I miss all of them. I will have to find a way to visit them after I complete my Master’s.

So not much of a chance to celebrate, though I am going with some friends to see Kill Bill Thursday. I guess thats a celebration.

Wilbur

I remember stuttering flashes of moments which are faintly illuminated by her wit, her humor, her smile, and even her stubborness. I remember sitting in the small brightly lit kitchen with grandfather and her, eating dinner, amazed by the pride beaming out of their hearts, awkardly shelling beans on the porch while a light brown and black striped german shepard attentively demanded our lazy attention,
the darker moments when her patiently earned freedom disappeared by degrees her restricted food her theft-protected-car her vacant house her submission to the notion that your kids grow up to be people and parents and roles swapped of mother and child and learn about death two many deaths and . . .

I remember answering endless questions as she tried to maintain control over the remaining parts of her life.
I do not remember the look over her face when she was forgetting her loved ones the moments she struggled to remember my name the desparate look as a mind destroys itself
and I am thankful
because I watched her stern, hard and fast husband wittle away into a empty soft body which refused him, a man i loved though he was cold to many, i couldnt watch her go

yet i did she started packing years before only a short time of blessed breathing space she never demanded but longed for i watched each piece slip away unbearable a nightmare to me forced to return the moments she stole from the world

i never asked her about god about religion about whether she trully believed our whether she had doubts like the rest, she wouldnt talk about death directly but made snide comments which i now mimic because i realize the futility of answering questions with positives strange what I learned and what she taught which is probably not what she intended
i learned
each decision you make is a lesson you will have to learn to accept
children are a burden which some are not equipped to handle and watching them die brings the cruelest questions
honesty works better than lieing but not in the way people believe it to
we will all die grasping at each forgotten moment
life rips away at us throughout our days shredding pieces until we surrender because we lack armies to stop it
the world is lonely when your children and grandchildren demand better things than your company
and humor in the face of sadness and pain can firm your convictions to remain

i will miss her demands her opinions her desire,
but i am glad she finally surrendered before life took everything from her.

“Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them.”
William Carlos Williams “A Widow’s Lament in Springtime”

Tomorrow I take my MA comps.

I will know positively whether I have what it takes to get my Phd or pursue anything in academic studies.

I am scared. I havent studied enough or worked hard enough the past 2 years. I could have done more. There are gaps in my mind which should be filled with knowledge.

I hope I am wise enough.

Wilbur

blahblah blahblahblah blah blahblah I blah blah blah soliloquy blah blah blah

im tired

4 days till comps

i want to be a fry cook at McDonald’s.

fuck im tired

wilbur

As I try to scramble to complete everything, I think of all the times I slept or visited with friend or watched a movie with Amanda and David or did anything which did not concern itself with my degree and realize that I will always find something to postpone the inevitable.

Less than two weeks till I take my comps. Luckily I do not have to work for those weeks. This allows me to actually catch up on sleep and work.

Scary world out there. I didnt give my future much thought until I started looking for things to occupy my time after graduation. A dear friend of mine is having trouble finding a university nice enough to accept her into the Phd program. The signifigance of her inability to secure a stable future at another university put a lot of focus on my own security. She is a straight A student who has read papers at 3 large conferences and has a focus on life, while I barely keep from getting kicked out. I dont think finding a job or a Phd program will be a snap for me.

Speaking of jobs, where in the hell do I want to spend the next few years living. Upper state New York, Colorado, Florida, New Mexico, Wyoming, Illonois, Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, or god forbid Louisiana.
I disregarding the fact that my chances of acquiring these positions are close to nada.

Im plugging away on my thesis hoping to complete at least the bulk of it before the end of this month.

David and I (and hopefully Amanda) are going to New York. Im going as I stated before to read a paper at the PALA conference at NYU. David is going to fulfill a goal of his to visit New York city.

Oh well back to writing I go.

Wilbur

Well its been an interesting few days.

I was informed that April 15th I must turn in my COMPLETED thesis. *gulp* I guess I need to get off my lazy butt and finish it.
Little under 3 weeks till comps arrive to welcome my uneducated self to disappointment. I am dreading those tests. As much as I hope it will be a small vindication that I havent wasted my time, I have been having daymares of failing completely in such a way that the faculty will refer to my exam as an example to future students as how not to waste your time at the university. I need to study some more.

I have two incompletes that are due by April 2nd. I have my MA comps due by March 24th. I have to turn in the COMPLETED thesis by April 14th. (luckily I work well under pressure, sometimes its the only time I work, hehe)
I have to rewrite a paper for the PALA conference in New York.

Oh did I mention, my abstract on William Carlos Williams poem “The Yachts” was accepted for the Poetic and Linguistics Associations annual conference, which will be held in New York.

I sit here thinking about how in the hell could one of my abstracts be accepted. Then, I realize that I have to completely rewrite the freakin paper before I present it. At which moment, my back stiffens, skin prickles, and hands numb. I sense impending doom.
I have been accepted to read my paper in front of a large amount of peers, which . . . scares the shit out of me.

Oh well till I find time to write to everyone again . . . goodbye.

Wilbur