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November, 2002

War Is A Sugar High
By John Bennett

A pill-poppin' fool. A dandy in dilemma. A dime-store cowboy on the take. A war monger drumming up rationale. Has anyone noticed the bars on the windows and the strange cufflinks on mother's night table? This is how it gets when the boys march to war. Madness and infidelity.

The whole business reeks of collusion. We each do our small part. Timing is everything. Timing and discord. Harmony and grit. Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag. Smile. What's left out is the stench and the motive.

Cash in your war bonds, plant a victory garden, invest shrewdly. Thumb thru your history-what's that glinting off Joan of Arc's armor? A bayonet on some tropical island. A tomahawk whirling thru the Michigan sunlight. A long-range missile bursting out of the

ocean. A gas pump in Toledo, a just-snapped-on TV or computer, hotbeds of delusion.

War is a sugar high. Windfall profits for the ugly. There are no gods in foxholes.

 

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