notes from
the MUCK . . .

How does your garden grow? With muck, muck and more muck! I spent much of today finishing the final muck box and then shifting muck from one box to the next. The first box, which the Big Lad is enthusiastically pointing out, has been rotting down for two years now and once we’d removed the top quarter of unrotted material, we found we’d hit the pay dirt.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006


Washington Post:
Canadian intelligence officials passed false warnings and bad information to American agents about a Muslim Canadian citizen, after which U.S. authorities secretly whisked him to Syria, where he was tortured, a judicial report found Monday.


[Ottowa computer consultant Maher] Arar, now 36, was detained by U.S. authorities as he changed planes in New York on Sept. 26, 2002. He was held for questioning for 12 days, then flown by jet to Jordan and driven to Syria. He was beaten, forced to confess to having trained in Afghanistan -- where he never has been -- and then kept in a coffin-size dungeon for 10 months before he was released, the Canadian inquiry commission found.
Remember how Bush used to blather on about how one of the reasons we had to overthrow Saddam Hussein was because of his "torture rooms?" Ironic, isn't it?

What can any of us do, apart from working to throw Republicans out of power, to put an end to the war crimes that are being committing in our names? When I stop and think about what my country is actually doing in the world today, I'm literally nauseated. And yet, there's no real protest as far as I can tell. I'm going to go about my business today, collecting car repair estimates, putting in a day at the office, going out for jabbercrusties at lunchtime, hanging out with my kids, reading War and Peace, and watching an episode of Deadwood. Meanwhile, my government will be abducting innocent people and secreting them to prisons in the far corners of the world where they will be held incommunicado for years and tortured into giving false confessions. Ho-hum.

I have no doubt whatsoever that my grandchildren are going to look back at this time the same way that I look at the internment of Japanese-Americans during WWII. They're going to wonder how people like me allowed this to happen and how much I did to stop it. The answer is, pathetically little.

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