Well, I’ve been sitting on the sidelines for a while: watching and thinking about the world and the sentient creatures who occupy it. It’s funny what will set one off. It doesn’t have to be a huge occurrence. Sometimes it’s a trivial thing. For me it happened while the HB and I were channel surfing. We happened on to the Time “Person of the Year” show. It’s not something we’d ordinarily watch, but we were too lazy to click on.

The show revolved around the process that the Pooh-Bahs at Time magazine go through to pick their so-called person of year cover story. Now this ‘honor’ of dubious distinction has, in the past, been awarded to Hitler, Stalin and Wallace Simpson. So, it isn’t as if the ‘person’ has to be a good one. The criteria seem to revolve around who affected world the most in the year just ending and the year to come.

As we sat there listening to the rationalizations and equivocations of the editorial board of Time magazine, the HB turned to me and said, “I know who it should be!” “Pray tell, on whose shoulders would you place this distinction?” I asked. “It’s obvious: the Axis of Arrogance! Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld.”

I suppose that our anger had started to come to a head when watching the full honors farewell ceremony that Bush and Cheney hosted for Rumsfeld at the end of the week. Rummy was hailed as “the finest secretary of defense this nation has ever had,” by Dick Cheney. This is as the administration is trying to find a politically palatable way to move their war forward in spite of the voices of the electorate that sounded so loudly on 4 November.

Dick Cheney was effusive in his praise for the failed Secretary of Defense, ““On the professional side, I would not be where I am today but for the confidence that Don first placed in me those many years ago.” One wants to scream, “and we wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in either, you puttz!”

In the meantime, W reports that he’s not losing any shuteye over this fiasco, “I must tell you, I’m sleeping a lot better than people would assume . . .” he said. I don’t know about you, but if I had that much blood on my hands, I’d be afraid to sleep for fear those souls would haunt me through the night. Over a million Iraqis have fled Iraq. Thousand upon thousands of civilians have been killed. The entire country has fallen into sectarian chaos: and the administration is arguing over the semantics of whether this should be called a civil war.

Now, the word from someone in Cheney’s office is that there is some consideration in that area of the west wing as to whether the U.S. should just back the Shi’ahs against the Sunnis because there are more Shi’ahs in Iraq and they’d win in the civil war anyway. Brilliant, just brilliant. Once again the administration ignore history and culture and political reality to impose their hegemonic will on people.

That brings me to my second point: it’s Shi’ah not Shi’ite. It may seem like a small point to the non-Muslim world, but it is again another sign of our hegemonic hubris that we could insult a considerable section of the Muslim community by not getting their name right. Also, it’s pronounced, Ear-ran and Ear-raq. It is neither Eye-ran nor Eye-raq. It’s time for us to tune in our cultural tin ears and to stop thinking that we can be-friend and consume the world at the same time.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?
‘But answer came there none—
And this was scarcely odd, Because
They’d eaten every one.

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright–
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done–
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead–
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!”
“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat–
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more–
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”
“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed–
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”
“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?
“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf–
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.