|
By Elton Beard There are two kinds of people in the world, those who divide people into two kinds and those who don't. I don't. |
AintNoBadDude
A Level Gaze
Amygdala
Atrios
Blah3
Blue Streak
Body and Soul
Brad DeLong
CalPundit
Daily Kos
Demosthenes
Digby
Electrolite
GeekPol's evil twin
get donkey!
Lean Left
LiberalDesert
LiberalOasis
Looking Glass
Lying Media Bastards
MadKane
MaxSpeak WebLog
NakedWriting.com
NathanNewman.org
Pandagon.net
Rittenhouse Review
Road to Surfdom
Roger Ailes
RuminateThis
Scoobie Davis Online
Scribbler
SideShow
Sisyphus Shrugged
Skippy
Talk Left
Talking Dog
TBOGG
Team Murder
This Modern World
uggabugga
Whiskey Bar
[Age Before Beauty]
Abu Aardvark
alicublog
All Spin Zone
AMERICAblog.org
american street
Angry Bear
Anonymous Liberal
Angry Liberal
A Spork
Aunt Elinor Fights Crime
Baghdad Burning
Big Brass Blog
Bitch. Ph.D
BlogD
Bloggasm
bloggy
Blue Gal
Bob Harris
Booman Tribune
Bottle Of Blog
brainhell
Brown Bag Blog
Broad View, The
busy, busy, busy (II)
Byrd's Brain
Ceteris Paribus (E)
Chase me, ladies
Claudia Long
coeruleus
corrente
Cowboy Kahlil
Crooked Timber
Crooks and Liars
Cynical-C Blog
David E's Fablog
Demagogue
Democratic Daily
Democratic Veteran
Dependable Renegade
different strings
Discourse.net
Drunken Monkey
D-Squared Digest
Drug WarRant
Economist's View
Elayne Riggs
elementropy
Emphasis Added
everythingsruined
Ezra Klein
Fafblog
Fanatical Apathy
Feministing
firedoglake
First Draft
Funny Farm, The
Glenn Greenwald
Hamster
Hairy Fish Nuts
Hellblazer
Hitchens Watch
Interesting Times
James Wolcott
Juan Cole
Julie Saltman
JuliusBlog
Kathryn Cramer
Lawyers, Guns & Money
Left Coaster
Left End
Left I on the News
Liquid List
Mahablog
Making Light
Majikthise
Mark A. R. Kleiman
Martini Republic
Matthew Yglesias
Meta and Meta
MF Blog
mfinley.com
Michael Bérubé
micah holmquist
Miniver Cheevy
Mortaljive
MyDD
mykeru.com
Needlenose
Night Light
Next Blog Blog
No More Mr. Nice Blog
Nitpicker
Norbizness
Orcinus
Pacific Views
Pharyngula
Philosoraptor
Pink Chimpanzee
Politics in the Zeros
Poor Man, The
Proteus454
Pro-War.com
Reading A1
Reading and Writing
Remain Calm
Riba Rambles
Rising Hegemon
RoguePlanet
Rox Populi
Sadly, No!
Sasha Undercover
Satirical Political
Scott Rosenberg's
Scriptoids
Seeing The Forest
Shakespeare's Sister
Shrill Blog
Skull/Bones 2004
Slacktivist
Smythe's World
SteveAudio
SubIntSoc.net
Suburban Guerrilla
SullyWatch
The Talent Show
Think Pogress
Thomas Friedman is
Tiny Revolution
Tristram Shandy
Unfogged
Upper Left
Wampum
War and Piece
World O'Crap
| ANNEX |
An annex to this post.
This is from chapter twenty-three ("NATELY'S OLD MAN") of Joseph Heller's Catch-22, the timeless war satire set in WWII. The Americans have recently captured Italy and a young American G.I. named Nately is visiting a whorehouse in liberated Palermo, Sicily, where he gets into a conversation with the ancient proprietor.
"America ," he said, "will lose the war. And Italy will win it."( The book is highly recommended, and the movie is great too, although it can't possibly do full justice to the novel.)"America is the strongest and most prosperous nation on earth," Nately informed him with lofty fervor and dignity. "And the American fighting man is second to none".
"Exactly", agreed the old man pleasantly, with a hint of taunting amusement. Italy, on the other hand, is one of the least prosperous nations on earth. And the Italian fighting man is probably second to all. And that's exactly why my country is doing so well in this war while yours is doing so poorly.
Nately guffawed with surprise, then blushed apologetically for his impoliteness. "I'm sorry I laughed at you," he said sincerely, and he continued in a tone of respectful condescension. "But Italy was occupied by the Germans and is now being occupied by us. You don't call that doing very well, do you?"
"But of course I do," exclaimed the old man cheerfully. "The Germans are being driven out, and we are still here. In a few years you will be gone, too, and we will still be here. You see, Italy is really a very poor and weak country, and that's what makes us so strong. Italian soldiers are not dying anymore. But American and German officers are. I call that doing extremely well. Yes, I am certain that Italy will survive this war and still be in existence long after your own country has been destroyed."
Nately could scarcely believe his ears. He had never heard such shocking blasphemies before, and he wondered with instinctive logic why the why G-men did not appear to lock the traitorous old man up. "America is not going to be destroyed!" he shouted passionately.
"Never?" prodded the old man softly.
"Well..." Nately faltered.
The old man laughed indulgently, holding in check a deeper, more explosive delight. His goading remained gentle. "Rome was destroyed, Greece was destroyed, Persia was destroyed, Spain was destroyed. All great countries are destroyed. Why not yours? How much longer do you really think your own country will last? Forever? Keep in mind that the earth itself is destined to be destroyed by the sun in twenty-five million years or so.
Nately squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, forever is a long time, I guess."
"A million years?" persisted the old man with keen, sadistic zest. "A half million? The frog is almost five hundred million years old. Could you really say with much certainty that America, with all its strength and prosperity, with it's fighting man that is second to none, and with its standard of living that is the highest in the world, will last as long as the... frog?"
Nately wanted to smash his leering face. He looked about imploringly for help in defending his county's future against the obnoxious calumnies of this sly and sinful assailant. He was disappointed. Yossarian and Dunbar were busy in a far corner pawing orgiastically at at four or five frolicsome girls and six bottles of red wine, and Hungry Joe had long since tramped away down one of the mystic hallways, propelling before him like a ravening despot as many of the broadest-hipped young prostitutes as he could contain in his frail windmilling arms and cram onto one double bed
[...]
"How old are you?" Nately asked, growing intrigued and charmed with the old man in spite of himself.
"A hundred and seven." The old man chuckled heartily at Nately's look of chagrin. "I see you don't believe that either."
"I don't believe anything you tell me," Nately replied with a bashful, mitigating smile. "The only thing I do believe is that America is going to win this war."
"You put so much stock in winning wars," the grubby iniquitous old man scoffed. "The real trick lies in losing wars, in knowing which wars can be lost. Italy has been losing wars for centuries, and just see how splendidly we've done nonetheless. France wins wars and is in a continual state of crises. Germany loses and prospers. Look at our own recent history. Italy won a war in Ethiopia and promptly stumbled into serious trouble. Victory gave us such insane delusions of grandeur that we helped start a world war we hadn't a chance of wining. But now that we are losing again, everything has taken a turn for the better, and we certainly will come up on top again if we succeed in being defeated."
Nately gaped at him in undisguised befuddlement. "Now I really don't understand what you're saying. You talk like a madman."
"But I live like a sane one. I was a fascist when Mussolini was on top, and I an an anti-fascist now that he has been deposed. I was fanatically pro-German when the Germans were here to protect us against the Americans, and now that the Americans are here to protect us against the Germans I am fanatically pro-American. I can assure you, my outraged young friend" - the old man's knowing, disdainful eyes shown even more effervescently as Nately's stuttering dismay increased - "that you and your country will have no more loyal partisan in Italy than me - but only as long as you remain in Italy."
"But," Nately cried out in disbelief, "you're a turncoat! A time-server! A shameful, unscrupulous opportunist!"
"I am a hundred and seven years old," the old man reminded him suavely.
"Don't you have any principles?"
"Of course not."
"No morality?"
"Oh, I am a very moral man," the villainous old man assured him with satiric seriousness, stroking the bare him of a buxom black-haired girl with pretty dimples who had stretched herself seductively on the other arm of his chair. He grinned at Nately sarcastically as he sat between both naked girls in smug and threadbare splendor, with a sovereign hand on each.
"I can't believe it," Nately remarked grudgingly, trying stubbornly not to watch him in relation to the girls. "I simply can't believe it.
"But it's all perfectly true. When the Germans marched into the city, I danced in the streets like a youthful ballerina and shouted 'Heil Hitler' until my lungs were hoarse. I even waved a small Nazi flag that I had snatched away from a beautiful little girl while her mother was looking the other way. When the Germans left the city, I rushed out to welcome the Americans with a bottle of excellent brandy and a basket of flowers. The brandy was for myself, of course, and the flowers were to sprinkle upon our liberators. There was a very stiff and stuffy old major riding in the first car, and I hit him squarely in the eye with a red rose. A marvelous shot! You should have seen him wince."
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Busy, busy, busy. What bokononists whisper whenever they think of how complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is. |
|
Home Archives |
|
Players
Altercation
BuzzFlash.com
Cursor
Daily Howler
Media Matters
Huffington Post
Talking Points
Tapped
TPM Cafe
truthdig
truthout
Boutique
Agonist
Best of the Blogs
The Daou Report
Failure Is Impossible
FreewayBlogger
Idiocentrism
Info Clearing House
Jesus' General
Jon Swift
Lefty Directory
Memeorandum
Neal Pollack
Rational Enquirer
Reality Control
Ambient Alert
Official Simulator
Orwell Search
Get Me Rewrite!
Tiny Polemics
Temple of GWB
Stand Down
UnaBlogger
Unknown News
Wall St. Follies
Open Letters To...
Chris Matthews
Tim Russert
Washington Post
Roll your own
me-zine
