Dear Aunt Sophie,
I know you’re conservative, but maybe, being a woman, you still have some sympathetic little corner remaining in your soul. Your right-wing pals are trying to make people think I’m being manipulated by the Left (whatever that is). They’re saying that when I speak I’m articulating someone else’s ideas, but I want to assure you this is not the case.
I speak my own mind in my own way in my own words. I speak truth to power. I question authority. If I were just parroting someone else’s ideas it would make me look like nothing but a dopey megaphone, which would play right into the hands of the Neanderthal right-wing misogynist war-mongering neo-cons. No, I want to assure you, I’m very much my own woman. I honestly believe that war is not good for children and other living things.
Let me tell you a little about myself. I have endured the worst pain any mother can bear, that is, the murder of my son. Yes, I said murder. He was murdered by the President of the United States.
Do you find that shocking? I did, too. I never expected a president to murder my only boy, but I was wrong. And it’s not only my son he murdered, he’s killing hundreds more, even as I write. He must be stopped before he kills again.
That’s why I followed him here to Texas where he takes his vacations. I have demanded that he see me so I can tell him to his face just what I think of him. But naturally, he doesn’t care about me. All he cares about is killing, killing, killing. And it doesn’t stop just because he’s on vacation. No. While he’s down here bicycling and barbequing he has other people doing his killing for him. Exactly like Murder, Inc.
My son was conned. He thought he was going to war to protect the United States. The United States didn’t need his protection. There was no threat except from that terrorist in the White House. My boy died so that oil companies could make their profits and Israel could continue to occupy land that belongs to someone else. I’ve got news for you - if my son could come back and talk, he’d tell you this country is not worth dying for. So there.
I must say the new friends I’ve made here are amazingly supportive. Not like my old ones who are probably sitting around wishing I’d shut up. It’s just wonderful how much these people care about me. They’re even catering my meals now. Every time I start to cry (which is whenever I look up at the huge painting of my son that someone did while I was visiting my sick mother) I hear the comforting sound of cameras whirring. It gives me such a wonderful, warm, cozy feeling. And I’m making more new friends every day. I’ve just met this absolutely charming gentleman from New York – Reverend Al. He’s such a huggy bear.
Now if I could only get a little privacy.
Gold Star Cindy
Oh, Cindy, Cindy, Cindy,
I was hoping against hope I wouldn’t hear from you. It seems so brutal to have to tell a grieving mother that her loopy behavior, while permitted in this freest of countries, is despicable and likely to get a lot of other mothers’ sons killed - and not by the President.
While you’re dabbing on sun block thousands of eighteen-year-olds are fighting the very people who live for the day when they can spike your catered dinners with ricin. The good news is that they’re fighting them there, not here.
You obviously loved your son. Wouldn’t you have died to protect him from harm? Breaking news - he felt the same way about you. He was willing to die to protect you. If you could manage for a few seconds to pierce the smoke screen laid down by your new best friends, you’d understand that’s exactly what he did.
If you were really thinking for yourself and not recycling the same old meadow muffins that pass for thought with your current playmates, you would be saying things like, “A world conspiracy rooted in Islam declared war on my civilization, so I blessed my son before he went to war to defend it.” But to be able to say that you’d have to know which side to take.
While you’re busy questioning authority, why not question the authority to which your new amigos are in thrall: A discredited, but unfortunately not yet defunct philosophy that is itself responsible for the murders of millions of innocents? As for speaking truth to power – isn’t that what twenty-six million Iraqis weren’t able to do until your son went to their country?
Your cuddlesome comrades will make heroic efforts to see to it that you never stop loving them, but eventually they will need a fresh face to use for their logo. Enjoy your fifteen minutes.
Good luck and God bless.