News+and+politics religion philosophy the cynic librarian: The Worm in the Heart of America

Monday, September 12, 2005

The Worm in the Heart of America

The extremist right is the sleeping worm in the heart of the American dream. The reason why we haven't heard much from them is because, perhaps, many are in Iraq fighting the terrorists and "sand n******s". When they return, who knows how much they will have learned from enemy and friend alike. Remember, Timothy McVeigh became a rightists _after_ he returned from Iraq1. Iraq1 itself was the womb from which his resentment and anger were born. How many McVeighs will Iraq2 spawn?

In the topic of the "monster within" I have already noted how many returning vets are suffering from numerous psychological spiritual wounds. Some have committed suicide--but, as Shakespeare noted, the suicide and the murderer are two sides of the same coin.

War creates people who are wrecked spiritually and emotionally. In certain personality types, such as the McVeigh types, this can be a witch's brew that has lead (in McVeigh's case) and may lead to in the future to cases of home-grown terorists of the right.

McVeigh is an isolated case--the social and economic circumstances are similar today as they were when he was hatching his plot.I belive the place I heard the information was on 60 Minutes or some such show. Consider the following:

"In a well-publicized case in 1997, two former members of the US army's √©lite 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, James N. Burmeister 2nd and Malcolm Wright Jr., were convicted of killing a black couple in North Carolina in 1995. The prosecutors maintained that the attack was racially motivated and that the two perpetrators were neo-Nazi skinheads. According to The New York Times of May 3, 1997, the "killings led Army Secretary Togo D. West Jr. to initiate a worldwide inquiry into extremist activity in the [army's] ranks." The piece went on to report that the "inquiry found little evidence of overt racism, but it led to discharges of 22 soldiers…who were found to have participated actively in extremist activity." "

I once heard a security expert at a nuclear weapons lab say that they are more concerned about people from within the US energy community perpetrating a terrorist act than they are about foreign extremists. The threat from the US extremist right is just as lethal as from any Islmaic jihadists.

Mixed in with the types of traumatic experiences that they will undergo in Iraq, as well as the facts on the ground in America relating to jobs and social change, the chances of more than one Tim McVeigh perpetrating another act as in OK city is probable.

For a poetic exploration of this monster within, I offer the following:

The Martyr

They said God's work
was war in the oil fields
when refineries blacked out
the sun, and I killed three
men with one shot to save
democracy. Gog Magog
armored in silicon chips
and cybernetic efficiency
squashed the child I was
to fight in the sand
when the enemy retreated
down that road of burned
out tanks and human waste.

Back home, a war hero, I
couldn't even find work
and slept on my father's couch.
And I cried for days when Gog's
Jack-booted goons stormed
Waco and burned those children
alive. From that sacrifice
of innocents I rose
like a phoenix whose
own blood is vengeance.
I drove down that highway
of the black sun in Arizona
with the plan hot
in my head, and the end
of Gog fueling the engine.
Eye for an eye, rotten
tooth versus the new teeth
of revolution that will
rip from the belly
of Gog's whore
the money lenders
and bankers who profane
freedom's temple,
in whose name I killed
to keep clean.
When the van ripped Gog's
belly like a ten-bit whore,
blood wiped out blood,
revenge wrought reward.

Let them broadcast
my death to the world,
if they dare, cowards
with the blood children
on their hands.
Let them sell
advertising for
Wall Street
and Comet cleanser.
I am pure now,
I am my soul's
master, captain of fate.

The tally sheet of the just
is not who you kill
but how justly you kill.
There's no rebirth
without pain, no peace
but what's bought
at the end of a gun.
If you want pity,
don't look at me.
I'm the prodigal son,
come home again to clean
the stables and set
the account books right.

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