Mission Accomplished

Ten years ago, the Iraq War ended.

No really, it did! We'd smashed through to Baghdad after all. Even President "Let's Forget What A Failure I Am" declared major combat operations to have ceased. If you've since lost a loved one to an IED, be assured that at least they didn't die in an actual war.

So to commemorate the end of that long ago war, I thought I'd check in on how popular entertainment has been trying to cope with it. I did that once before with The Hurt Locker, a dull work of navel-gazing more interested in the sort of pontificating on War In General that you'd hear from stoned undergrads.

In sharp contrast to that is Green Zone, a Damon and Greengrass effort that puts the lie of Iraqi WMDs at the center of the story. Damon
plays the leader of an Army chemical weapons team - the disposal sort - on the hunt for all the scary weapons we were supposed to find in Iraq. And every site he visits comes up empty. Naturally he asks questions and naturally it turns into this great big crime thriller as he scrambles to find the one Iraqi general who can tell him the big secret even children at the time knew - "What WMDs?"

"How dumb are you?"

The main Damon plot is really that bog-standard but it has some lovely set dressing. There's a career CIA officer played by Brendan Gleeson who gets it, a smarmy Bremer stand-in played by Greg Kinnear who doesn't, and an all too credulous reporter based on an all too sympathetic idea of Judith Miller. The reporter is just a plot point, like any woman in a manly war film, but the interplay between Gleeson and Kinnear is both fun and a sharp critique of the whole imperial misadventure -

Gleeson: "You cannot just hand this country over to an exile no one's ever heard of, and a bunch of interns from Washington." [In reference to the Chalabi stand-in Kinnear and Co. have decided will be the new Iraqi president.]

Kinnear: "Democracy is messy!"

You'll recall Rumsfeld said much the same when his skeleton of an invasion force couldn't stop all the looting...

Green Zone is even more concerned with giving agency to the Iraqis. Their self-determination is really the dominant theme, despite the film trying to be a conspiracy thriller. Freddy, a one-legged veteran of the Iran-Iraq war who goes out of his way to help Mighty Whitey Damon solve the mystery, delivers the best line of the whole film explaining the dilemma of an occupied country -

"I see what's happening. You don't think I see what's happening? And all the people now, they have no water, they have no electricity - you think I do this for reward? You don't think I do this for me? For my future? For my country? For all these things? Whatever you want here, I want more than you want! I want to help my country!"

But strangely the biggest misstep is this earnestness. There's really no way to be honest about the Iraq War without making it the blackest of black comedy. Generation Kill gets closer to the horror that was and still is Iraq. It follows the Marines of the 1st Recon Battalion as they charge into Iraq in 2003, which was less grand conquest and more slapstick road trip. They engage the enemy only rarely and then only with their own small arms and mounted weapons, air power and artillery being too focused on civilians. And the Marines themselves are a motley bunch of reprobates and "whiskey tango" racists, lead by officers who are - with few exceptions - utterly clueless and more concerned with looking gung ho to their own superiors, no matter how much that stupidly threatens their own men.

And then there's Fruity Rudy, played by himself.

But that's okay! You don't expect Marines to be renaissance men and you don't really want them to be. Their job is to kill for the American Empire and they're damn good at that. The right-wing political correctness of this country doesn't allow for such honesty so it's both an artistic triumph and more respectful of the guys who do all the fighting and bleeding. Too respectful in fact - if Green Zone's heart bleeds for Iraqis, Generation Kill doesn't want to admit they exist unless they're part of a set piece. Though this avoidance accurately reflects how different American and Iraqi culture is in a way Green Zone - and millions of Americans - don't want to admit.

There's a brilliant scene to illustrate this near the end - 1st Recon has been tasked with patrolling "liberated" Baghdad during the day, hearing requests and complaints from all the civilians, along with canned declarations of love and fealty to George W. Bush. As their new and better translator explains - their first was a Saudi pothead instructed by command to translate everything as "They are grateful to be liberated!" - Iraqis have no concept of a president who isn't a despot and just assume that all the grovelling they did to Saddam to keep their heads attached should now be directed at their conquerors. This passage from the brilliant Full Spectrum Disorder by Stan Goff comes to mind -

"The troops carrying out these occupations are carrying out seemingly contradictory directives...[They feel] confusion, [which] develops into frustration, then an indescribable psychic fatigue, and finally into hatred of the place and its people. Those who have no desire to collaborate with the occupiers will keep their distance.or more.attack them... Those who did approach the American troops had agendas. Lots of agendas... after every revolution, there is a scam period. It was a time to settle scores. A time to brown nose the new rulers. To maneuver for jobs and positions. And every time there is a conflict of interest between occupation grifters, they compete for the attention and credulity of the occupying troops. This begins to leave the impression among the troops that the whole society is a pack of scheming, pathological liars. They are, after all, being approached by the most unethical sectors of that society."

In contrast, Green Zone's argument for Iraqi self-determination can't shake it's own cultural blinders. As silly as it is for Kinnear's Bremer stand-in to dismiss the chaos he's created by declaring democracy to be messy, it's the truest thing in the film. Iraqi democracy will never and can never be like American democracy - there are plenty who wouldn't mind a Sharia state, morphing into a de facto province of Iran, and for everyone who'd love to cast a vote for their preferred tribal strongman there are a dozen others in the next tribe who don't see why they should let the other guy's vote be the deciding factor when they have more guns.

They ain't like us. It's such a simple fact but one that Americans, even ten years on, just cannot grasp.

On Irony

Let's talk about irony. Not real irony, mind you, but the faux irony that's replaced humor and imagination in this culture. The justification of "I know X is lame, that's why I'm not lame for enjoying X!"

The Guild is a good example of this, despite being a good show in its own right. It follows six hilariously inept gamers as they deal with very mundane concerns like money, romance, and overly protective mothers. It's funny and well acted and never tries to excuse or redeem the characters - who are pretty terrible human beings all around.

But there's this niggling thing in the back of my mind every time I laugh at a scene because I know somewhere, someone is going "Dude, that's soooo us!" and then typing the high five command in World of Warcraft. It's like that blog Stuff White People Like - funny, occasionally sharp satire, but you know the fanbase is the one being savaged by all the jokes. And they're okay with that because...?

Because irony, it seems. It really came together when I saw this -

"Oh ha ha! It's a cheesy pop song but about MMOs! We know it's lame so we're not actually lame! Irony!"

I know language is fluid and changes depending on time, place, and context but this is not irony. We may call it that but it's really rationalization. Someone knows the thing they like is looked down on in polite company, so they claim to be enjoying it because it's bad. Somehow. Like people who pay money to see The Room.

But the truth is, they really do like whatever lame thing they claim to be enjoying ironically. They really are as inept and ridiculous as the characters on The Guild. They really are that dull and miserable - but they can't admit it, to themselves or others. Therefore, they say they like X because they know X is bad.

This whole phenomenon really gets back to how soviet American culture is. We can't enjoy things on our own terms - like, I can't just load the latest Call of Duty and giggle as I blow away foreigners in increasingly brutal ways without putting on this air of being above it all and only enjoying the jingoistic undertones of the whole violent spectacle "ironically."

No, all our terrible indulgences have to fit back into the status quo. So we get people watching The Guild, seeing themselves in the parody, and trying to excuse their own embarrassing behavior as self-aware self-abasement. Because we're not allowed to just like stupid shit.

Fiction Friday

"A man who has seen death and survived is satisfied with a flu," Eli repeated to himself for the umpteenth time. He'd read it... somewhere back in college, a little pessimistic gem he'd been more than happy to throw around. He'd never given it much thought then, or at least no more than some self-serving claim that it meant something to him beyond its power to shock. Thank God he'd since gotten perspective.

He'd thought of that little saying off and on since moving in with Gramma. After all, what red-blooded twenty-something wants to spend his days looking after some decrepit relative? Of course things were never all that bad and she always seemed more interested in him going out then he did. "Why would you sit around at home on a nice night like this?" and "What do you mean you've got no plans for the weekend?" And even trying to set him up with the sweet Korean girl down the hall - at least before that last round of INS sweeps. Good, benevolent meddling.

He hated it all, of course. "Jesus, it's none of your business!" and "I can live my own life!" That sort of good natured bickering that no one ever really likes until it ends...

*    *    *

"Gramma!" he called out into the apartment. He stomped up and down the hall a few times, hoping to jar her awake if she'd fallen asleep in the tub again. That had been one awkward evening.

No response. He knocked at the bathroom, still a little weary. No answer. He tried her bedroom - again nothing. He tried his own room - hell, why not - and again not a sound.

"Gramma?" he tried again. The apartment was quiet and static as always, but the old lived-in smell had left. He crinkled his nose, it almost smelled sterilized now. Like someone had been through and scrubbed every inch of the place with bleach.

In the kitchen he found a letter, typed. Gramma was hopeless with a computer - and that typewriter hadn't worked in fifteen years!

"Dear Elly," sweet Jesus, he thought. "After careful consideration, I have opted to return to our Homeland. Israel needs us all in these troubled days and I would be a poor example to you if I shirked my Jewish duty -" Jewish duty? Really? "You are free to make your own decisions but I implore you to follow me as soon as possible. Israel needs strong, young men such as yourself if it is to weather the Final Days -" The fuck!? "Your loving mother, Sheila."

"Her name is Anzia!" he screamed, nearly ripping up the letter. The cynical bastards didn't even bother to remove the Emigration Office letterhead!

*    *    *

"A man who has seen death and survived is satisfied with a flu." Eli understood those words now, at least in a backwards sort of way. It would be melodramatic to call his life up until now miserable, but looking forward to the future - and a future in modern Israel was a death sentence, no question - he'd been very satisfied with that old flu. All a matter of perspective, really.

Finding the plans hadn't been difficult. Even with the libraries falling apart and charging for their internet use, they hardly policed anyone's reading habits. Too worried about stumbling on porn. Eli had stacks of papers, bordering on a thousand, with the information he needed - and all printed at The Commons.

Material... That had been much more difficult. He'd decided from the start it could be nothing conventional. If the bitch weren't close enough he might only singe Her and what would be the use of that? He had to be certain he would get Her - and everyone else in a fifty block radius. Fucking sheep.

Conventional would be too bulky. He'd be stopped for sure. Well, what about... Yes, that could fit right in a backpack, at least according to the sources he found. But the materials... not so easy to come by. Had this been an earlier point in history with more industrial regulations he might have been forced to call it quits - or get a plain old rifle. But thank God or whoever saw fit to place Eli in the same state as a disposal site staffed by cynical entrepreneurs. And thanks also for all the money Gramma had squirreled away throughout their apartment – safe from those Emigration bastards.

*    *    *

"A man who has seen death and survived is satisfied with a flu," had been on his mind for a while, but since setting to work on this... project, he'd been remembering something else. A catchy little song he heard in a movie once. Eli sang it to himself while putting the finishing touches on his bomb: "I'll take you with me to the stars! They're gonna find your anus on a mountain on Mars!"

Buy my book! It's da bomb!

Another Flash Crash

Can we admit already that all the rich Wall Street wizards are just lucky morons?

Ever since they ran the economy off the cliff, there's been all this noise to excuse the obscene paychecks they write themselves and the utter failure of any prosecution for their culture of systemic fraud. The argument has gone that they're all so special and clever and we just don't understand their labyrinthine get rich quick schemes so that's why they still get a bonus when their own company tanks...

And then shit like this happens.

"Durr..."

A hacked Twitter account made the entire money changing system piss itself with a fake story of the White House blowing up. While that's some ballsy marketing, it again highlights the instability of high-frequency trading - where "complex" algorithms buy and sell stocks automatically. It's caused sudden crashes before over one data hiccup or another and no one is doing a goddamn thing about it.

And why is that?

...

No, I'm really asking - why? Why can't we call all these dumbasses on their constant failure? Why do even Congressmen smile and nod when a self-inflated poof like Jaime Dimon goes on about how he deserves to piss on Chase customers? Why do so many Americans bitch and moan about the tax and spend Big Gub'mint when there's a bunch of ivy league yahoos turning their 401(K)s into hash with some new cockamamie scheme? Why do we pretend the financial system isn't being directed by nothing more than gambling addicts in fancy suits!?

Hell, if we can't admit the emperor is naked then can we at least tax the shit out of him?

War on Errorism

Betcha didn't see that coming, did ya? Muslim terrorists again, but Chechen Muslim terrorists. I'm betting you don't even know what a Chechen is.

Here are two of them. Fighting for the Taliban.

You should know of course. And we all shoulda seen this coming because Chechen rebels have a long and loud history with Al Qaeda - thousands of them went to Afghanistan in the early days of the war to fight alongside Osama bin Laden and the Taliban, just for starters. But Chechnya has been a blind spot through the entirety of the War on Terrorism for the stupidest of reasons, like old Cold War prejudices.

Russia: "American friends! Please help us with Chechen-Al Qaeda!

America: "Up yours, commie!"

Russia: "We do not understand. You say you fight terrorism and is terrorism in our backyard. Rebels -"

America: "Oh, rebels you say? Well, we'll just send our Special Forces to train them!"

Russia: "...But they murder children at school..."

America: "Let freedom ring, Stalinistas!"

Russia: "o.O"

That's paraphrasing of course, but not too far from the reality. Chechnya has been a hotbed of terrorism for years but knee-jerk Russophobia has made it invisible to Washington, which went out of its way to dismiss any argument that Chechen separatism, with its Al Qaeda ties, was somehow part of the grander War on Terror. "It's just a war of indepenence!" the particularly dumb pundits claimed. Another war, technically. They sorta won the first one in 1996 and celebrated their newfound liberty from the Kremlin with kidnappings, Sharia law, and invading Dagestan.

The Washington response to all of this? Cozying up to the Chechens. This was back in the Bush years and as an appropriate counter to Democrats always being the best on national security, Republicans always do what's worst for the country. Even last week, with the FBI and Boston PD on a manhunt, Senate Republicans voted against any sort of gun regulation. Because God forbid we have a national gun registry that, say, could've helped identify the Tsarnaevs when they armed themselves for their impending shootout with police.

Playing kissy face with a crowd that openly brags about its AQ ties is stupid enough, but to then make it easier for them to kill Americans because you want to keep getting NRA kickbacks? That's a whole new grade of stupid right there. Really, the entire War on Terror has just been one stupid bungle after another. It focused the reflexive racism of many Americans on the Middle East since the 9-11 hijakers were almost all Saudi trust-fund brats, which allowed a natural transition to Iraq because all those darned wogs look alike. The entire culture has conflated "terrorism" with Islamic fundamentalists in a desert shouting and hollering and being dirty oriental stereotypes so that when a serious threat shows up we're all caught with our pants down.

And Chechens are serious. They've been giving Russia the business for twenty years now, no matter how many of their apartment blocks get swiss-cheesed by ZSUs. They've got a generation of young men raised in urban guerrilla warfare - as demonstrated by the Boston bombers putting up one hell of a fight against police. Arab and Af-Pak holy warriors are way more suicidal, typically using themselves as a delivery vehicle and getting blasted to Paradise. While sad and awful and blah blah blah, that approach does make them something of a self-correcting problem.

ZSU: For all your anti-aircraft and urban pacification needs!

Chechens, in contrast, conduct themselves like proper soldiers. When confronted by police, the Boston duo responded with gunfire and tactical retreat and I don't doubt they had plans for more attacks if they'd gotten away. And taking the worst case scenario that this wasn't an isolated incident, we should all be fucking scared.

Except this time we've got Obama. Not to sound like a fanboy but the guy really is excellent at irregular warfare, as much as I despise his Chicago Schoolboy fiscal policies. If Bush were still in charge he'd probably invade Greece, the dumb cokehead.

Filler Friday

How a Lie is Born

It's a testament to how far we've come as a nation that it only took three hours before we were blaming each other for Boston. A few have speculated that this was a domestic terrorist - a not exactly far-fetched hypothesis - while the bedrock conservatives over at Free Republic have been shouting "false flag" conspiracy theories and getting overly defensive about the domestic terrorists theory. At least when not trying to hang it all on some Saudi.

That last part is what I really want to talk about, because however else this goes he's already been convicted. Some foreign kid on a student visa ran for his life when the bombs went off - wouldn't you? - when he was tackled by a patriotic bystander. The Feds and the Boston PD are on record as saying he's not a suspect now, but that doesn't matter. The New York Post, that bastion of ethical journalism, jumped the gun and got #Saudi trending so all the other networks followed suit.

And that's how a lie was born. Too many Americans right now believe a "Saudi National" is the primary suspect and may already be in custody. Hell, this kid may turn out to be the culprit - rich Saudi students have a history of blowing shit up for God - but even if he isn't he'll still get the blame thanks to the great social networking echo chamber.

Access to information doesn't make people more thoughtful. In the immediate aftermath of the bombing, for every person counseling patience there were a dozen idiots eagerly parroting the "Saudi National" story. Now it doesn't matter if it's true, because it's already #true - it's been repeated enough and nobody cares to really follow up on the story even when joining the chorus.

This is how the internet makes you stupid.