Christopher Deliso draws conclusions about the politics as usual behind the story concerning Pakistani immigrants executed by Macedonia police led by Ljube Boskovski who then labelled as terrorists these innocents seeking menial employment in the West. Boskovski’s exact whereabouts is a controversy Deliso can only speculate on but his backgrounder analysis as to why he’s the only gov’t official there still defending the brutal action, and why the story was finally released, is highly informative.
The article opens with this quote from a UN worker in Kosovo who related it to Deliso recently:
“…after one month in the Balkans, you’re so excited that you vow to write a book about the place.
“After one year, however, you only want to write an article. After two years – you don’t want to write a single word.”
I can certainly relate this depressing anecdote to my own experiences transitioning from passive receptacle to more studious observer of the political scene here in the United States since George & Co. assumed leadership in 2000. I wasn’t disinterested before that event. It happened to coincide with my going online for the first time. The vast internet and its readily accessible avenues of research have enabled me immeasurably to examine nagging curiosities in the light of informed and diverse opinion. Nevermore will politics be the benign affliction I tolerate. Then again I’ve realised how sick it is and how powerless I am to ‘cure’ it.
So it’s been a difficult and sorrowful process and never more so than these past few weeks. In the deepest of senses I now understand how George can make his grand entrance on the Arab street as if wrestling a strong wind or a wicked hangover, his pale, sickly face offset by a shimmering blue suit jacket more befitting a mob boss than the leader of the so-called free world, offering only more arrogant and baleful excuses instead of the sincerest of apologies. To deny this ‘abuse’ is the norm seals its permanence. D.C. will be happy to know that down here in the trenches their subterfuge is effective. Those who don’t openly snicker at the photos want to believe that it’s an isolated incident. To contemplate otherwise would interfere with a pampered, mundane existence made possible by the invention of superiority on all moral planes. If that idyll cracks apart the egg will make a terrible mess and oh dear, the credit card is full, how to replace the furniture becomes the dilemma.
It comes at no surprise to me that George couldn’t be bothered to read the report or that the warmongering, complicit Democrats would pretend they are shocked by the revelations. The totality of it all has me feeling as though I’m mucking through ankle deep mud in over-sized rubber boots and the fishing hole is miles away as lines like these of Ani DiFranco‘s, amongst others, haunt me:
you broke me bodily
the heart ain’t the half of it
and i’ll never learn to laugh at it
in my good natured way
in fact i’m laughing less in general
but i learned a lot at my own funeral
and i knew you’d be the death of me
so i guess that’s the price i pay
I simply can’t afford it. Can you?