Citizenship

I'm just going to include a little story recently published in the Atlantic by a reporter who traveled around for a bit in Afghanistan with some troops that I think should pretty much be required reading for any American over the age of 18. The story is basically a firsthand account of fighting in the war, and it's pretty much just an apolitical look at what it means to send people into war.

I think that one of the chief things we're asked to do in a democracy is think. And I think that it's impossible to think without having all of the information at hand. For instance, if you think you want a less intrusive government that lowers taxes even more, go ahead and advocate for it. However, don't do it by claiming our taxes are too high when they are at the lowest level that they've been since 1950. If you want to say that you don't like the stimulus bill, fine, I have my issues as well. But don't say that it didn't work because economists across the board pretty much agree that it helped prevent the recession from deepening by a significant amount. If you're like me, and you want to treat our country being at war as an abstract philosophical concept, read this article to get a little taste of what it means to send young men to war. If you want to oppose the Muslim cultural center near 9/11, by all means, oppose it, but don't oppose the mosque when it's actually a cultural center, and while you're at it, make sure to get rid of the peep show places and porn video stores around the 9/11 site as well; we don't allow that kind of crap in my version of America.

Here is an essay that pretends to be about lobsters but that is really about thinking and democracy, and in general, being a human being.


For a long time I've been writing you long letters and using words like diegetic, which mean things that I don't understand. I've said things like, I've always admired the peculiar shape your fingers take on the keyboard below the soft blue light of the computer or that I've missed the shadow that forms beneath your clavicle on the island of your skin. I asked you to sing me something where the point was the feeling, not the words; the truth is, I didn't want to understand any of them. I wanted to slip softly beneath the space that lies necessarily between two bodies. Just once, can you lie to me long enough to say that you understand? I promise, if you stay long enough, that I'll believe you.