So did you hear that today is the moment of truth? And for some reason, I have this picture of Dubya slipping a note reading "Check yes or no and give it to me by 6th period. Oh yeah, France smells like wieners!" into Iraq's locker. Now he's waiting with all his very best girlfriends outside of the gym and obsessively applying strawberry Lip Smackers. Yeah, I don't know, either. Instead of drinking green beer, I wrapped my Vicodin in some fresh parsley and ate it.

Right now, I want to go to the moon. I will sit there in a lawn chair, listening to records and reading every issue of Cometbus, as life continues(?) down here. There will be oranges, Faygo, potatoes in various forms, a very good tree for climbing, and puppies. And, of course, Howie. You must never forget the comforting ability of ducks. And amusement factor. I am thinking about this because I can't think about anything else. Or I won't think about anything else.

I just...don't understand anything anymore. I'm tired of trying to explain the concept of MORE THAN TWO SIDES TO EVERYTHING and why I can still be a feminist while opposing war. I don't want people to ask if I remember 9/11 and accuse me of being a terrorist sympathizer. I'm sick of reading and reading and reading and feeling physically ill because it looks like freezing temperatures are giving way to 451 degrees Fahrenheit. I wish the Beastie Boys had actually summoned the balls to say what they fucking feel instead of writing a song that can kinda be classified as a protest but falls over itself in trying not to offend. I'm tired of not having the balls, come to think of it. And I'm scared, really fucking scared, that no one seems to remember the word RETALIATION. Yeah, that's what happens when you corner a rabid dog. It fucking bites back.

This isn't the goddamn movies. The villain is not just one person and the conclusion won't happen in a carefully scripted, yet highly dramatic (read "profitable") fight scene that ends with the hero tenderly kissing his wife/girlfriend/kid/whatever as Aerosmith sings some insipid ballad that will remain on the Top fucking Ten for seventeen excruciating weeks. This is long and complicated and people lie and there are enough characters and plot twists to make Jerry Bruckheimer's head spin off his spine and begin to orbit the sun.

My god. That kind of just fell out of my hands. Bad, bad hands. No love for you.

I am in no state to be talking about this. So here are some links to other people's entries about the current state of affairs. Most are from 12% Beer because my loopy ass had a very hard time remembering entry titles and those quotes really do help a girl out. When I'm more coherent, I'll add to this list. Until then....

Joey Cuppa- There ain't no time to wonder why/ Whoopee, we're all gonna die.

Rudey- Anti-war shrubbery! Anti-war shrubbery!

Marn- This made me cry.

Rumblelizard- A rant. A very good and very intelligent rant.

Disco the Kid- This is his interview Trinity63 and is the first in a series of interviews with other diarists discussing the war. This is a different view than what I've been ranting about, but guess what? Different views are good and Trinity63 is thoughtful and well-spoken. I wish I had thought of this idea first. Goddamnit.

Tori- The first thing that popped into my head when reading this (besides the Ramones "We're a Happy Family") was this article from the Onion.

Happy fucking Saint Patrick's Day, y'all.

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