whazza?

WHAT GIVES?

I Have No Effin’ Clue!

By Izzy Ess Of

Underhanded-Ness

The Games That Nations Play are sometimes obvious, and sometimes not.  On the radio, just now, I heard that US bombers crossed the special air space of the Chinese and huge objections were then filed.  As far as I know, there is no war that does require a US bomber, full of bombs, to cross the air space of a foreign, sovereign nation, wall-to-wall with people.  I’m also guessing that the bombs are nuclear and even H-bombs which could destroy a hundred thousand people instantly and affect the health and welfare of a million more, eventually.  What gives, America?  What gives in China, the hugest nation in the world, except for India?  Surely, this is classic brinksmanship and war games of the most obvious in the world.  Sure!  Provoke a nation of bright, industrious billions and see what happens on a Tuesday afternoon in Canada?  Who is kidding whom?  Spying is now commonplace, as everyone anticipates that everyone will spy on everyone, friend or foe, or kith and kin, since the heady days of Hoover and of Nixon.  But sending unannounced huge bombers full of deadly bombs over people’s heads in daytime is ridiculous and fraught with mass destructive consequences, eh?

Shall I keep silent and just wait and see what gives?  It’s not part of my own personality to wait and see what gives ‘twixt nations that can blow each other up with just a push of a small button, at a distance.  It is reminiscent of the allegorical bold story of our King David who could wield a slingshot with a stone and kill a warrior at some distance and cause the downfall of a nation, enemies or not.  Goliath was a giant when compared to David, a figure that may be unreal in history, but he was only four foot four and his opponent, a Goliath, was perhaps, a five foot five and thus a giant Philistine, or was it a Norwegian on a holiday from the North Polar region to the sunny shores of North Africa, the Sinai Desert, who happened to be wearing his heavy helmet on his head and left his forehead open to a missile flung at him by a small, swarthy, curly-headed native on the beach?  I guess we’ll never know for sure but that was many years ago before recorded history was accurate and was mainly sung in parables and poetry, accompanied by women playing tambourines while dancing.

Today, our history is written and recorded by those pin-point pictures from the satellites which can pick out a small cockroach at some 200 miles above the Earth.  There are so many questions and so few responses that make sense.  Where were the B52 bombers flying?  Why were they loaded with big banging bombs?  Which idiot did send them?  Which button pushing autocrat will start complete destruction of the Earth?  Why weren’t simple drones sent there, instead?  Are border skirmishes and genocide, annihilation and the grabbing of some territories, next?  Is this about disputes concerning Chinese arguments with old Japan about some Islands in the Sea?  What gives, I ask, rhetorically, eh?

I have no choice, except to say, this is my essay’s termination, see?

THE END

© izzy sommers, md

Wetland, Kanata

November 26th, 2013