Just another hadji bitch

Did you see her and want her so bad, that young, forbidden fruit? Did she
once smile nervously at the checkpoint, and you thought it was just for
you? Did you come on strong the next time around, flash a little money
maybe, or lay a syrupy line on her that you got from a phrasebook? What
did she do ? recoil? Look away? Look disgusted? Look blank? What did she
do to bring on the big hurt from a big, tough man like you?


So you planned it all out. You cased the house, you reconnoitred. You got
your buddies in on it ? or were they in from the start, did they make a
play too, were they too turned away by this haughty Arab bitch, this
piece of trash from a shitheap town in a shitheap country filled with
nothing but lazy, lying, murdering towelheads? Somebody like that thinks
they're too good to give it up to you? You liberated her goddamned
country, for Christ's sake, and now she won't even put out? That dog
won't hunt. Hell no. You and your pals had to teach her a lesson. You had
the power, you had the guns, you were Americans; who was going to stop
you?


So you set up the mission. You knew how to do it. How many houses had you
raided before? Dozens, hundreds ? who the hell knows? Who the hell cares?
You went in and got her, you did what you wanted to her. You shoved the
other hajjis into the next room, put a gun on them, then got down to
business. Did your buds take a turn? Everybody get a taste? Or maybe
you'd already ruined her before they got a chance ? beat her, tore her,
pounded her into goo? Who the hell knows? Who the hell cares? At some
point, she just wasn't worth it anymore. No fight left in her. Laid there
like a limp rag. Passed out maybe.


So you took out your gun, you took out your power, you took out the thing
that makes you an American ? a real person, a human being --- instead of
a walking piece of *** like everyone else in that godforsaken hellhole
of a country, you took it out and you shot her in the head. One shot,
clean kill. Did you say anything? Crack a joke? "Not tonight, honey, I've
got a headache." Or did you just stand there and curse her, puking your
self-righteous rage all over her dead body?


Who took charge after that? Was it you, or one of the others? It all
started moving so fast, like a dream had been broken ? or maybe this was
the dream? Maybe it was all a dream, the whole fucking thing, from day
one, all of it nothing, happening to nobody, going on nowhere, never. But
the smell was real, you couldn't get away from it, that wet smell, meat
and guts in a slime of blood. It filled your nose, filled up your whole
head behind your face, it lined your throat, coated your skin. And if the
smell was real, then the whole thing?.


Move, fast, now! The hajjis in the other room: no witnesses, goddamn it!
Who's this, the mother? Head shot, head shot, down. Who's this old
***? Father, brother? Who cares? Head shot, head shot, in the face,
down. And what's this? Oh for Christ's sake, how old is she? Six? Seven?
Eight? What are you going to do, wait till she grows up and comes looking
for your ass? Catch her, goddamn it, just shoot, shoot! Down.


Now burn the other one. Yeah, the bitch in the other room. Set her on
fire and get the hell out. Report terrorist activity. The Sunni bastards
in the area. Secure the perimeter. Get your fucking story straight and
keep your fucking mouth shut. We're home free. Home free?.

-0-


Is that how it went down? Does it still feel good? They got two of your
brothers from the same platoon later, chopped off their heads. Reckon
that was payback? Now the squealers are coming out. It's in the goddamned
papers. The brass are going to throw you to the dogs. They can be big
men, they can rape whole countries, kill tens of thousands ? but just let
some grunt try to get a little on the retail side, and all hell breaks
loose. It just ain't fair.


Well, buddy, what can we say? You should have your fun last year, when
there wasn't an election. Nobody would have paid a blind bit of notice.
And you should have called in an airstrike, not that half-assed burning
job ? nothing buries evidence like a 500-pound bomb.

The only thing now is to get a good lawyer, then hunker down. If you can
string it out long enough, Bush's media brigades can start working the
refs for you, muddying the waters, smearing your accusers, providing the
proper context, invoking 9/11. And speaking of 9/11, isn't that what it's
really all about? Isn't that what you were really doing when you raped
that girl and shot her in the head and burned her body and killed her
family ? defending our country from those who attacked us on that tragic
day? What you did was justice, damn it, not a crime! Just like the whole
war.

But you're on your own this time, comprade; Uncle Rummy's done cut you
loose, set you up for the old "bad apple" shuck-and-jive. Sure, he's
personally signed direct orders that he knew would kill thousands of
civilians every bit as innocent as that family you massacred ? but then,
he's an Ivy League man, a corporate chieftain, a respected public
servant, and you are just another hick from the sticks. He's home free;
you're going all the way down.


Let this be a lesson to all the cannon fodder out there: don't get above
your raising, don't emulate your betters. Law is for the lowly, not the
great and good.

Regards,

http://www.chris-floyd.com/index.php?option=com_frontpage&Itemid=1
.

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