How To "Be Happy" For the Iraq "Elections":

No, no, really, it's great, it's really, really fuckin' great that there were "elections" in Iraq. Really. Nothing was as inspiring as those lines and lines of men dressed in average, everyday Western-ish clothes and women in head to toe robes. 'Cause, you know, the Shia are a bit more conservative about the whole "women's rights" thing.



But, still, c'mon, how could you deny the power of the dyed finger, the jubilation of gunfire in the air. Holy motherfuck, you'd have to be "hardhearted" to not be moved to pissing yourself in joy and tears. Sure, sure, there were nearly deserted polling stations or none at all in the Sunni areas, with 1700 people voting out of the 400,000 in Ramadi, 8,000 out of the 200,000 in bombed-out, corpse-ridden Fallujah. But, you know, no one expected the Sunnis to vote. Sour grapes and all that rot.



So, join the parade of voices declaring, "Freedom, sweet road to freedom," loving the dyed fingertips that look like you anally probed Barney, shouting "Springtime came early to Iraq," and avoid the naysayers who say nay, like Fareed Zakaria, opining that elections do not a democracy make. Yeah, you know, all those voters got to go through that big damn clusterfuck of a ballot, pages and pages of "lists" of candidates, all secretive, but, c'mon, everyone knew what list to vote for, right?



No, really, let's celebrate the act of voting, even if, in the end, the election doesn't change much and is just another mile marker on the road to legitimizing the occupation. Even if there's still no plan to bring American troops home for at least another two years. Even if, even if . . .



But, c'mon, everyone. We should be acting like the proud parents of a baby, should we not? A severely disabled baby? We're just so thrilled to have a child, but, Christ, what hardship and heartache lie ahead. But it was worth it, right? Isn't that what we need to keep telling ourselves over and over, as more and more loss happens, that it was just fucking worth it?



Otherwise, the act of voting was just like watching a mime. See, there is no box, but it sure as hell looks like that fucker's trapped.