Fantastic. Now our wars have porn names.
Though, I suppose, fair enough; shows how we’re properly fucked.
Ho ho ho. Anyway, over the past week I’ve been savoring the piquancy of our New American Reality, namely, that in every imaginable area save one, whenever it is proposed that the government commence or continue action of any sort, no matter how sensible, humane, beneficial, or necessary, we are informed, “gracious! Why, we cannot afford that. We are broke.” So entrenched is this dogma that it quite literally takes the credible threat of nuclear devastation to make anyone even fucking blink as to the question of whether or not it makes any goddamn sense.
The lone exception of course is War, where it seems to be deeply gauche to ask, “hey, how much would that shit actually cost?”
To the extent that there was even a “debate” on Libyan intervention at all, the price tag didn’t come up. Presumably because intervention in Libya involves deeply “moral” questions as regards freedom and democracy and American Values.
As indeed it does!
We will disregard the price tag when it comes to dropping bombs on foreigners in the name of “morality,” and pinch pennies pound-foolishly when it comes to helping Americans heat their homes and eat untainted food and take well-tested medicines and educate their children and and fight their fires and keep them safe and and and AND AND AND AND….
… and meanwhile, we will sanctimoniously demand “sacrifice” from us all except the most wealthy, powerful, and absurdly overrepresented among us.
And we’ll drop mind-bogglingly expensive bombs on foreigners.
To free them.
If they coincidentally happen to live over oil fields.