musings

( stuff I wrote when I was a teenager )

by way of mehinda

You are Sylvia Plath - a fiery bombshell with a
keen wit, and a gift for lyric poetry. You
will forever alter the literary canon with your
mind bending imagery, your sardonic wit, and
the mythology you build around yourself. You
are a voice to be reckoned with.


Which Dead Poet Are You?
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I didn't mean to get this one, I swear. I avoided some obvious choices.

Touche.

At the beginning of the Clinton administration, the "don't ask, don't tell" policy was instituted in the military. My father, a retired general, was discussing the issue one night with several other generals. They all agreed that allowing gays in the military was out of the question. Pounding the table, they decried the specter of gays in foxholes and proclaimed that gays would destroy American military might and leave us defenseless against our enemies. All the while, dinner was being served by two gay corporals who could barely contain themselves.

Today gay linguists in Arabic are being discharged from the military because of their sexual preference as a sop toward conservative constituents of Washington officials. Doesn't the president keep reminding us that we're at war? Meanwhile, women soldiers are being raped by their colleagues and women cadets by their classmates.

In Washington, the Empathy That Dare Not Speak Its Name