That’ll do for a title until I think of something else. It’s what I’m currently listening to, and besides, you weirdos only come see me for my dirt on Nancy Reagan anyway. If you are interested, the album is actually really good, even if it didn’t have her moaning over every song (she sings but there is a moan layer over everything). There is one BDSM track. The music? It’s like what would happen if Quentin Tarantino scored a James Bond film. The artist/actress is Reiko Ike, and she came to me by way of purchasing a used copy of Ween’s swan song, La Cucaracha (which is a pretty good album and you can fuck right off if you don’t think so). Reiko was tucked away in the fold. Ween fans know what’s up.
There aren’t whole lot of photos of Reiko with clothes on, so I’ll offer up the album cover and hope that social media doesn’t notice.
Now that I’ve opened with that, I’m feeling a bit gauche now because I wanted to talk about how seemingly fucked up it was to wait nine days to tell the public that US servicemen and women were casualties when the airbases were attacked in the Iranian response for whacking Soleimani.
This kind of hiding casualties is unprecedented to me. Every time a soldier was wounded or fell in Iraq it was recorded and reported. And that war, I don’t have to tell you, was soaked in blood on the regular.
Now in one way, this looks like classic Trump, to run away from a decision that has any real gravity. Because had he had to break the news that our people were hurt by Iranian missiles, we would have to respond inside Iran.
War. Maybe World War 3.
So he did what he knew best to do. He lied. “All is well.” “So far so good.”
Nine days later, we report hurt soldiers. What the fuck? I’m sorry, it never takes that long to count casualties, much less report them.
But damn, I mean he got the Pentagon, the DOD, the Chiefs, everyone to stand down and let the reporting lapse.
It’s entirely possible that anyone in office may have delayed the news of the injured soldiers because actually attacking Iran itself is one hell’s bell we truly can’t unring, one that could possibly begin or end with a nuclear bomb exchange and everyone who could conceivably deploy that weaponry knows it. So there was simply no tat for Iran’s tit that made any existential sense; even a boob like Trump must know this on some base level, and if he didn’t someone responsible made sure he couldn’t do something rash.
So we waited until the heat of the moment passed to release the assessment. Perhaps that was the right thing to do in a moment that could have decided humanity’s fate. Thank god no one died. It would have been on like Donkey Kong if we had to give a name to the American public.
And to that effect, Iran did its best to bruise us instead of burn us. They too know how far they can run up to the line before it’s too late to turn back.