front lines I am sitting in a cafe on the front lines—on the theory that as the world comes apart, becoming ever more random, we are all exposed on the front lines, and we may all find ourselves in the situation where we "have trouble distinguishing combatants from civilians," as the Marines have been complaining lately. The Arab men in back are playing backgammon, speaking only English, swearing like Brooklyn cabbies. Someone mentions that Bush is accusing the Russians of selling high-tech military equipment to the Iraqis. Someone else on the phone says about the Boy Emperor, Angry Monkey, Puppet Leader, "He's losing it. His eyes are getting further and further apart." Later he mentions that the maintenance crew members who were ambushed and captured had made a wrong turn. "Their positioning systems malfunctioned and they went right into a ditch." When they were interviewed for the TV cameras, one of the captured crew was asked repeatedly, "Were you greeted with flowers or with guns?" and repeatedly answered that he didn't understand. Part of the rationale for going to war, in fact part of the strategy, was that we would be greeted with "music and flowers" by the Iraqi people and so far, that hasn't happened.
	location: San Francisco date: March 24, 2003 average rating: [not rated] your rating (0-10):