Is it any wonder that the monkey's confused

Tears burn in my eyes…
I don't know anymore.
The Fear is drawing neigh.
I will not fear, fear slays the mind…
Once upon a midnight dreary,
While I pondered weak and weary,
I heard a knock upon the chamber door...
Two metal birds of fire and hate,
Consummate
The nuptial vows…
That peace on earth shall be no more.

Across this nation, we shall refrain from calling it great at this point in time, there are people in shock, anger, dismay, and in some, a cold-hearted loathing of what the political machine will make of this latest test of humankind.

Bush said, "Freedom and fear are at war. " Dear Lord, how can we possibly contemplate the obliteration of one of our natural instincts. Fear. Fear. The word even looks sinister. And we live with it every day. Humans have been afraid since their humble beginnings. We've been afraid as long as we've been lecherous--perhaps even longer. Fear was there, when the first ladies of the evening plied their trade, in the form of deep seeding loathing by the wives of the men who were being seduced by the younger and more willing. How could they possibly compete? And why should they have to. They will make laws--outlaw that notorious profession. And for the enforcement of those laws and others like them, we shall give up certain liberties--owning a gun, privacy, cameras on every corner, low-jacking our kids. They will welcome them with open arms, because they really didn't want to be free anyway.

That is the conundrum--the boggle of this century. Every century before, except the nineties, has had an enemy. Music itself confirms this. But herein lies a divergent discussion on arts, so we will have none of that now. Now we will have a boggle. How do you fight ghosts without giving up the very freedoms that you are trying to protect? Can it be done? Can we hold on to the values that so many exhibiting these days through another Herbert Hoover?

That is why we fail. Because to win, we must lose, but if we lose, we can win. I think it is not Freedom and Fear that are at war, but more like Freedom and Oppression. To guarantee freedom, we must oppress millions of people both in our own country as well as in others; but, if we ignore our open wound, fight a losing battle, a defensive war, we can be sure that our liberties will be upheld.

Where is the out? Where is the win-win solution now, Mr. Covey? I'm serious. I want to know. The nation NEEDS to know.

AND who the heck cares about my vicious next door neighbor? I guess I'll have to. At least she's not a vicious fundamentalist terrorist. Or is she. Hunter S. Thompson built brand recognition around the words Fear and Loathing. How apropos. Or maybe its Paranoid and Lost. Where will this take us? How much Agent Orange are we going to need to cover up? How many security checkpoints will we have to show our papers at on the way to work? When do they come and take a DNA sample for identification verification purposes? When will guards with uzis man the security station in the front lobby of your office building? Do we have the stomach for it?

You see, I write fiction stories as a hobby. And you know what? Even the worlds of gothic strife imagined by cynics like myself could never have foreseen this ironic turn of events. We all thought it would be a nuclear war that caused the downfall of society. I am ashamed that in one of my stories, on June 24, 2001, a terrorist set off a suitcase nuke in Manhattan. And to be honest, I'm a bit ashamed that I have been writing short stories, while I could have been writing something profound. Much like the rock and roll bands of today have been writing fluffy songs about teen angst, when they could be making music that addressed socio-political realities. But, there is no regret for me in those legacies. However, once again, politics beckons and reminds us what the Player said oh so long ago. "…I can do you blood and love without the rhetoric, and I can do you blood and rhetoric without the love, and I can do you all three concurrent or consecutive, but I can't do you love and rhetoric without the blood. Blood is compulsory--they're all blood, you see."

When it happened, I checked to make sure I hadn't been in a coma for 61/2 months. No, it wasn't April Fools day, although if it had been a hoax, it would have topped Orson Wells hands down. And who the hell cares about John and Jack Kennedy anyway? I guess we all should. They died so that we could squabble over tax cuts and education and prescription benefits programs. As did Martin Luther King, and all those poor souls on both sides of the lines in Vietnam. I've been neck deep in the propaganda, and compared to the terrorists, hating communists is a playground scuffle. At least we knew where the communists lived.

And when will this article end? I guess now is as good a place as any. Not much else in this world is making much sense either. Selah.