Posted March 30th, 2003 by Michelle

What more can I say and think about the war? What more can I say and think about my bum? Both of them are hurting me terribly. Only one can I remedy. I would trade having a hemorrhoid for life if it meant that we could instantly repair all of the damage we’ve ever done to the Middle East (and hoo boy, that’s a lot of damage. But it would be a big pain for me too). I find it hilariously awful- the reports of the generals who are saying, “Gee, we were told that we would come into these towns and everyone would wave flags and pop champagne. Instead they are dressing as civilians and shooting us or blowing us up as well as themselves.” I feel stupid myself for actually hoping that the Iraqui people, at least some of them, would welcome us. Well, the joke is on us. And the idiot on the hill is trying to retract his words, trying to say that all along he’s insisted that this war might take a long time. When are Mr. and Mrs. Joe America going to wake up to his lies?

And now, to quote Teddy Roosevelt:

“To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. Nothing but the truth should be spoken about him or anyone else. But it is even more important to tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about him than about anyone else.”

I know this is a dangerous time to be vocal about disagreeing with my government. But I cannot be quiet. I invite anyone to delve into my life to find one thing I’ve done that isn’t patriotic. In fact, I daresay that I don’t even do anything illegal. But I will not support my government, I will not bow to this war, I will not speak or think well of the man running my country. Not until he… oh, god, at this point, he’s screwed up so badly that I feel there is nothing he can do to win my favor. He can resign and go quietly home.

So back to my butt. Yeah, it hurts. A lot. And everyone at work was asking where I was yesterday, and why I’m walking funny, and why I’m wincing… and although I’m sharing it with you, cyber reader, it’s another thing altogether to tell my friends. Most people don’t even know what they are. I wish I didn’t, either. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to work this week, given that the only time I’m not in pain is when I’m horizontal. I’ll know more tomorrow, when I schedule my surgery. I have to work in the morning, and then attend a four-hour meeting with the Central Park EMS, and then hopefully lay on my back for a full twenty-four hours. I feel foolish for even complaining about this. I belong in the coal mines, or trekking across America with the Mormons, for god’s sake, not whining about my bum. But, well, yeah, my butt hurts. It’s sure been fodder for plenty of jokes, though. I spent the evening with part of my family last night and left in more pain than I got there with, only because I spent too much time laughing. It’s amazing. You have no idea how often you use that particular muscle until you are made (painfully) aware of it.