My Cognitive Ethnic Pachyderm

I have the memory of a sicilian elephant.

The relentless, scathing attacks on President Bush have lingered like the taste of bile after a night of vomiting. I admit- I haven't moved on. For 8 years President Bush was attacked without thought or reason. It was an emotional and illogical motivation, a frenzy whipped up without much substance.

Substance never really mattered. What ruled was passion and rage.

I remember the disrespect they showed in the 2005 inaugural parade. There was no desire to "come together as Americans". There was no unity. It was too much fun to be righteously opposed.



From 2005 - 2008 endless parades of protests marched up and down DC's main Avenues- aged hippies and self proclaimed activists with signs and masks and American flags emblazoned with the swastika over the blue field of stars.

I remember the blood stained hands waved in Condi Rice's face as she tried to testify on the Hill.



Code Pink. Cindy Sheehan. Farenheit 9-11. Cries of war criminals, illigimatcy, Bush's War, war of choice. It become a ringtone.

The 2008 Democrat candidates capitalized on this mood. I was more against the war than you were. Why Barack Obama was always opposed to the war... as a community organizer. He voted against it... in his head. But that's how he ran.

Patriot Act. Renditions. Predator drones. Wire tapping. These were all evils of a shameful Presidency and needed to be abolished. AQI was using Gunatanamo as a recruiting tool... it all needed to go "to restore our image around the world".

I remember all these speeches and promises and subtle (and not so subtle) condescensions towards the then sitting President.- and the way the media whipped this frenzy till it overflowed with sanctimony and feigned indignation. My sicilian elephant remembers it all.

And here we are. Here we friggin are... in what should be an end of innocence for the once gushing lefties, there is silence. In what should be hilighted contradiction after broken promise after hypocracy the media is quiet. In what should be a Code Pink frenzy of war crime photos there is a collection head-in-sand.

Where have the activists and hippies gone? Where is the anger? Where is the cry over an open guantanamo and an expanded Patriot Act? The withdrawl deadlines predicated with surges, the coalition of unwilling now attacking Libya... it's as if Oscar Wilde and Christopher Buckley teamed up to write a satire.

Cindy Sheehan must not have cared THAT much about the war. Or her son. And the peace activists who hated war must now be too busy with underwater mortgages to read the newspaper. That must be the reason for the painful silence the last few weeks have wrought on my sicilian elephant in search of equanimity of outrage.

Surely those activists believed in their cause from 2005 - 2008. Surely their cause lives on.

It does. In my memory alone.