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01 November 2006
The Lost Cause
Sonic, over at his Hitchens' Watch site has pretty much done the business on this latest load of old wank from the man himself, but reading the Hitchen's piece, one is inclined to wonder if this latest, sad article doesn't just sum up the nature of the Iraq defeat? Especially these closing lines:
If this cause is now to be considered defeated, by the sheer staggering persistence in murder and sabotage of the clerico-fascist forces and the sectarian militias, then it will always count as a noble one.
Ah - the lost cause - how noble was the struggle. Is that the line, lads? The Exile's advice to the lost causers is that they should take a tip from the late A.L. Jonas of the army of the Confederate States of America. In March of 1865, he took a Confederate banknote and composed this ode to his Lost Cause:
Representing nothing on God's earth now,
And naught in the waters below it;
As the pledge of a nation that passed away,
Keep it, dear friend, and show it.
Show it to those who will lend an ear
To the tale this trifle will tell,
Of Liberty born of a patriot's dream,
Of a storm-cradled nation that fell.
Too poor to possess the precious ores,
And too much of a stranger to borrow;
We issued today our “promise to pay,”
And hoped to redeem on the morrow.
The days rolled on, and weeks became years,
But our coffers were empty still;
Gold was so scarce, the Treasury quaked
If a dollar should drop in the till.
But the faith that was in us was strong indeed,
Though our poverty well we descerned,
And this little note represented the pay
That our suffering veterans earned.
They knew it had hardly a value in gold,
But as gold our soldiers received it;
It gazed in our eyes with a promise to pay,
And every true soldier believed it.
But our boys thought little of price or pay,
Or of bills that were overdue,
We knew if it bought our bread today,
'Twas the best our poor Country could do.
Keep it, it tells all our history o'er,
From the birth of the dream to its last;
Modest, and born of the Angel Hope
Like our hope of success, it passed.
Of course, the South still lost, but the poem brought many a tear to many an eye in the years that followed.

So get writing, lads. While you are doing that the rest of us will sit back and enjoy your defeat.

Waxing eloquent about Confederate funny-money -- and not a fucking word about Oaxaca...

You are AWOL, man.

1 November 2006 at 07:26  

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