Oso El Guerrillero: THE PROMISED LAND

Even deep within the Forest of a 100 and One Names, Oso El Guerrillero can hear ‘them’ beating the Drums of War – once again.  He gives a deep bear sigh.  War, he thinks:  War, that multipurpose tool of States and Statists everywhere.

Extraordinary wars – or just plain old kinetic action:  What is the difference?  Hot wars?  Cold wars?  Warm and cool wars?  Ah, yes – cool wars:  Now that does sounds cool.  Hey, boys and girls – be cool – be a real Patriot and sign up for the latest Cool War.

Plopping himself down in a convenient spot, he continues his cogitations: 

Is not war like a Pandora’s Box? 

·       Unintended Consequences – just look at the consequences of WWI.  Better said, we having been fighting that same war for almost 100 years now.

·       Open-Ended Objectives – think of the fool’s mission of Social Engineering to plant Democracy in the infertile soil of Iraq (and many other countries).

·       Hubris & Arrogance – see the point above.

·       Terrorism – terrorism begets terrorism and bombs beget more bombs.

·       Fascism – war brings out the worst – not the best.  The nationalist fervor of Patriotism, of Oaths & Pledges, of Secrecy, leads only to an empowered State, Corporatism, and the loss of Individual Sovereignty.

·       Moral Principles – when individuals follow not their own consciences but rather become the means to others’ ends, when blind obedience to orders from those who would command and control is the order of the day, then morality becomes immorality, and the immoral will truly rule their immoral subjects.

As he gets up, Oso asks himself:  Why is war so beloved?  Is it for power, for money, for the glory of dying?  Cui bono?

Oso grumbles to himself as he rubs his back up against a barky tree:  I wonder what it is this time?  ‘They’ certainly call it the Exceptional Nation for good reason – or is it the Indispensible Nation?  (The Exceptionally Indispensible Nation – EIN?, or nein?)  Well, it certainly seems to be exceptionally bellicose, and certainly indispensible when extending the power of the State. 

He – Oso – holds up his paws and starts to count:  Hot wars – Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, Yemen and Pakistan – hmmm – and those wars against Terrorism, oh, and drugs, and poverty and ignorance and poor health.  Well, dropping a bomb on someone certainly solves the poor health problem.  And oh yes, isn’t war a Krugsure cure for recessions, depressions and other economic woes?

As he makes his way up the mountain (all the better to hear the drums) he wonders:  What kind of Hidden Agendas can these war mongrels have?  Haven’t they ever learned the Moral Principles?  Several hundred meters above the roof of the forest he listens intently:  The drums say nuke ‘em before they nuke us.  Sounds like they forgot about Unintended Consequences also.

Now Oso has been around the block a few times, so to speak, so he knows that the first casualty of war is truth.  Actually, truth is mortally wounded long before bombs begin to drop and bullets begin to fly.  He sniffs the air.  Yes, there is a conjunction of events which is particularly unfavorable to the health of Santa Verdad:  Those pesky People-Who-Aren’t-There are complaining again about their status as sand niggers, and the EIN is once again embarking upon the process of selecting a Dear & Glorious Leader – and not to mention the various opportunities for kinetic actions among and against the Infidels.

Of course, the Infidel has already had an opportunity to enjoy the exceptionalism of the Indispensible Nation and is no doubt expecting more of the same.  When Liberty and the pursuit of happiness are at stake, what do a few dead ragheads matter?  They – the ragheads – will just have to accept that no one fucks with the Jesus Exceptional and Indispensible City/Nation on the Hill.

‘Nuke ‘em’ say the drums.  Nuke who, wonders Oso El Guerrillero?

And so, according to the deterministic laws of inevitable destiny, we return to the question of ‘them’.  It is crystal clear, and as subtle as a sledge hammer, that it is no mere generic ‘them’ that is being referred to.  Rather, ‘them’ is the usual suspects:  Krauthammer (here, here, and here, amongst too, too many references to cite); Kristol, Bolton, Boot, Feith  (“the fucking stupidest guy on the face of the earth” – TF).

And as the war pimps sit comfortably, beating the drums, the useful idiots are up in their furious dances about the fire, shaking spears and clashing shields.  And amongst those useful idiots are some of the pretenders to the throne and the cherished title of Dear & Glorious Leader.  Oso El Guerrillero shudders at the thought.

Just what country do they intend to preside over, and just what country are they sworn to defend, wonders he? 

And with the great powers of vision and understanding given to him – Oso – with some help from the Oso Todopoderoso, comes to understand that the object of all this bellicosity is the Islamic Republic of Iran.  Now Oso, being the curious animal that he is, wonders at this.  And being technologically with it, he checks the internet and finds that over the last 100 years, Iran has always been the victim of aggression and not the initiator.

Could it be that they – the Rug Riders – have aimed their 1000’s of ICBM’s with multi-nuclear warheads, at the heart of the Indispensible Nation.  Perhaps they still hold a grudge over that Mosaddegh thingy.  Perhaps they still don’t understand that it was for their own good.

Oso shakes his head.  Nahhh, that can’t be it, because, in spite of the drum beating, they don’t have thousands of nuclear warheads to aim at anyone – not even a teensy-weensy little one.

So, using the logical capacities he has been endowed with, Oso El Guerrillero tries to figure out why Krauthammer and company want to obliterate the Islamic Republic of Iran using the very real nukes that the EIN has in bountiful supply. 

Maybe they just want to give the economy a good Keynesian Krugfuck.  Some say war is good for that, and reduces the unemployment too:  Maybe out of sheer avarice and greed, as stockholders of a plethora of defense aggression industry corporations.  But no, that can’t be it, otherwise why not attack China and really churn out the war toys?

Just what could be on their minds, and agendas, wonders Oso.

Could it be that they have a not-so-secret love?  Have they all been seduced, and entranced, by that little feisty bitch, Israel?  Israel?

What was that other name?  Oso El Guerrillero grabs his laptop and does a bit of googling.  Ah, yes, ZOP.

But aren’t these Neo-Cons citizens of EIN?  Why are they trying to drag EIN into more wars?  Isn’t it involved in enough wars?  Apparently not…

Maybe they are really ZOPis in disguise.  Just maybe…

And just as Oso lies down by a swift-running stream he hears the War Mongrels howling in the distance:  MEK, MEK, they seem to be yelping.  Once again he googles:  MEK.

Hmmm, this, this, and this.

What a strange confluence of events:  EIN and the Neo-Cons, ZOP and The-People-Who-Aren’t-There, MEK and the Islamic Republic of Iran.  MEK and ZOP – here, and here.

Is it mere coincidence that the Neo-Cons have discovered the MEKs who are attempting to overthrow the duly-elected government of Iran?  Inquiring minds ask:  Who is financing all of this?  And what is in it for the ZOPis?

Well, bethinks Oso, it seems like Country Joe all over again:  And it’s one, two, three, what are we waiting for?

He – Oso – gets up slowly and meanders over to the stream.  Strange indeed, he thinks, as he contemplates his reflection in an idle pool.  Wheels within wheels, agendas within agendas.  Cuo Bono?

Now let’s see if I’ve got this thing right – The ZOPis have a problem with The-People-Who-Aren’t-There occupying land the ZOPis want.  The government of the Islamic Republic of Iran apparently doesn’t love ZOP as much as the Neo-Cons do, and may be giving material support to The-People-Who-Aren’t-There who don’t particularly like being driven from their homes.  What to do, ask the ZOPis and the Neo-Cons?

Oso reflects on the ZOPis’ options:  The status quo will not hold.  We want the land, so the Two-State solution is out.  For obvious reasons the One-State solution is out, as The-People-Who-Aren’t-There are so prolific.  So what is left:  The-People-Who-Aren’t-There will just have to find some other place not to be.

Now the ZOPis could just round up The-People-Who-Aren’t-There and shove them over the nearest border.  But that would be in bad taste and just too obvious.  Some cover is needed, something like a good war – a big war – where we can get the EIN dupes to do most of the fighting and dying (and spending – $$$).

It all makes some sense now, says the enlightened Oso to himself (who else?).

·       The-People-Who-Aren’t-There are no longer there.

·       The ZOPis and their EIN allies get to create a Greater Israel.

·       MEK gets to pick over the bones of a defeated and destroyed Iran.

·       The War Mongrels of EIN get to whoop and yell even more.

·       The Evangelicals can hope that the Rapture is at last at hand.

What is there not to like?


Quite a bit, when you think about it – as Oso thinks about it.


Why does the EIN have dog in this fight?  It doesn’t.  Why not just let the ZOPis and The-People-Who-Aren’t-There fight it out between themselves?  Why not MYOB?

Maybe it has to do with all of those corrupt politicians who seem to have been paid off by the ZOPistas:  For instance, the three stooges – Bomber John, Joker Joe, and Loco Lindsay.

And yes, it occurs to Oso:  ZOPi-Occupied-Territory, and friends.

And Oso ponders on this state of affairs as he slowly makes his way back to where ever he is going:  WTF!  At this point, as we attempt to wind down this little tale, his Blackberry sends a message:  ‘Be afraid, be very afraid.  See this for more information.’

But our peace-loving ZOPistas would never let the rug riders get away with obliterating the EIN.  After all, they are our friends (The ZOPistas, that is).

And bears don’t shit in the woods.
















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