The war, five years later
So here we are, five years after BushCo and his cronies started a stupid, pointless and illegal war in Iraq and decided to invade Baghdad. I said it was a bad idea then and now the rest of the country and world has gotten to find out what a profoundly bad idea it was. Oh, we would be greeted as liberators. Oh, we have to do it to stop those WMDs. Oh, they were behind 9/11. Oh, if we don't fight them there we'll have to fight them here. All a pack of lies. We were led into a 21st Century version of Vietnam despite the domestic and international outcry, and the invasion and occupation was a horrible mess and a complete debacle from the start. We've turned Iraq from a country that had no terrorism to the most Dangerous Place on Earth, a breeding ground for terrorists to train against American forces. We've turned the entire nation into a battle zone between three warring tribes, none of which respect or accept the rule of the quisling government that we've set up there.

Now we have over 4000 troops dead, and 30,000 wounded, and God knows how many dead and wounded Iraqis. We have alienated our allies and shown rogue nations that if you don't want to get invaded, you better get real nukes fast. Our reputation and standing in the world have suffered immensely in the last five years, and we have squandered every bit of good will offered to us after 9/11. It will take generations to rebuild that, and even longer to repay the bill (especially at $1 BILLION a day to run the war) and already has cost half a TRILLION dollars. Imagine what the US could have done with that kind of money.

Not only will we be stuck with the bill, but so will our grandkids.

So, on this fifth anniversary of the Iraq War, I'd like to take the opportunity to dedicate an old Bob Dylan Classic to the architects that got us in this mess : Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Perle, Wolfowitz, Powell and Rice.

While this song was originally written for Vietnam, it still rings just as true today as it did during our last pointless war of occupation led on false pretenses. (and no, this ain't going under a cut tag-- not today). You tell 'em, Bob.

Masters of War

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music