So, there are no - and were no - weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.
I'm just shocked.
No, really. I'm shocked. Just absolutely shocked.
What kills me, though, is the almost exclusive use now of the acronym WMD. Our national chagrin apparently runs so deep that we just cannot bring ourselves to say weapons of mass destruction. We can only refer to the...um...WMD.
I guess it's kind of like when somebody passes over rather than just drops dead. It's all in the presentation. Maybe if you say passes over, your audience won't really know what you're talking about.
"Hhhmmm...no WMD in Iraq? Well, good. I don't see why they needed to search for White Male Doctors there anyway. Aren't there enough White Male Doctors? Do we really need to go looking for more?
So here we are, all chagrined. Or whatever the word for feeling chagrin is.
"Oy, I'm so chagrined!...get me a little something to nibble on, dear!"
But why are we chagrined? Did anyone actually think there were WMD in Iraq?
No, really. I'm serious. Did anyone think so? I mean, I know I'm a little cynical sometimes, but I truly thought we all "understood" - in that "with quotes" kind of way" - and right from the very beginning - that searching for WMD was just the big communal line. I thought it was just our silent national agreement. Wink wink.
"Okay, Bush really wants to go over there. He really wants to kick some burka butt. And he needs a reason...so just go along with it. Wink wink."
I thought we all knew.
But maybe we didn't.
And apparently some of us still don't.
But I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. I think we - as in "everybody but me - actually believes the stuff people say. Even worse, I think people believe the stuff they themselves say.
I have a friend who still thinks I believe he's being kind and caring when he says "I'll let you go" before he hangs up the phone.
"Well, okay, I'll let you go."
You know, that is sooooooooo sweet. To think that a guy who's jonesing for me would just let me go - just let me get off the damn phone - even though he could just listen to my beautiful voice on the telephone all night long.
Heavy sigh.
And clearly total bullshit.
"I'll let you go" really means I'm finished but I'm pretty sure I have to say something nice in preparation for ending this phone call because if I just say I'm finished it might sound rude.
Actually, "I'll let you go" most likely means I was finished ten minutes ago and I couldn't figure out how to end it and now I really just can't take anymore.
I never tell people I'll let them go. I just tell them I'm finished. Luckily, my friends don't mind if I'm rude at the end. They just chalk it up to my being honest. Honest is what you call someone who's essentially good at heart but doesn't have the patience or energy for grace and manners.
Kind of like a really sweet two year old who hasn't had a nap or a snack in a really long time.
Anyway, there are many WMD-type sentiments I don't really mind. Now, of course, I'd prefer that we just said we're going over to kick butt because it's time to go over and kick butt.
And I'd prefer that my friend just say "Okay...I'm ready to get off the damn phone."
But even I'm not completely intolerant of others' insecurities. Even I understand that sometimes you can't just stop by. Sometimes you feel more confident pretending you were in the neighborhood for something else.
"I was at that little country bathroom store around the corner looking at distressed bidets and I thought of you...so I figured I'd stop by.
So fine. We're going to continue this mock deliberation.
"Wow...there's no WMD!...whoduthunk!?!"
Fine. I can deal with that. So long as Hannity & Colmes split the hour between that dialogue and some insight into who really fathered the gloved one's kids. Apparently, the gloved one's "other" glove might never have come off.
But as patient as I am when it comes to terrorism and letting our loved ones go, I'm really losing my patience when it comes to those other lines.
Yes, I'm talking about diet promises.
A "diet promise" is a ridiculous promise you're never going to keep. But hold on: it's not ridiculous because you're never going to keep it. It's ridiculous because it's SO ridiculous that the world should laugh at you for having the lapse of reason necessary to make the promise in the first place. To just even utter the promise is ridiculous.
The basic concept of a "diet promise" is exactly what it sounds like: a promise to stick to a dietary rule.
I will never eat sugar again.
That's ridiculous.
I don't eat carbohydrates.
Ridiculous.
Now I'm not knocking Atkins or South Beach....although I'm happy to do so any other time. Just name the time and place.
What I'm knocking is the extreme, absolute rule one makes which goes against his or her own strong human nature and basic cravings.
You can try not to eat sugar and carbs, but you're fighting a pretty serious battle. Most bodies like sugar and carbs. And most people want sugar and carbs. At least sometimes.
I know, I know. The less you eat them, the less you crave them. Blah, blah, blah. I'll explain that to my Atkins office-mate who has to witness me eating chips or pretzels every afternoon when I get the daily "I need something crunchy and salty that didn't grow in the earth" craving.
The point is, a "diet promise" is a failure waiting to happen.
Promise not to eat sugar today. Promise not to eat carbs today. Try it for a week. Say you'll give it a go. See what happens. One day at a time.
But please...don't tell me it's a forever thing. Cause it's not. And I know it and you know it and I just can't pretend I wish you good luck on something that's a sure no-go.
Luckily, nobody talks to me anymore about their diets. I think they figured out that I don't believe in diets. But no matter. You don't have to be on a diet - or off a diet - to make a diet promise....
My buddy and her buddy are having a difficult time. I don't really know what the big deal is. Something about some emotions and some complications and some confusion. Something about what if and if only....
Jeez. You'd think they were people in a relationship or something.
So they had one of those things where each one is scared of the other being sick of the other's emotions and complications and confusion. So they each said things. And they didn't say things. And mostly they reacted. To their own fears. Classic human behavior.
And my buddy said she wouldn't call him again.
And I laughed.
And I suggested she give up chocolate while she was at it.
"Hey, maybe the torture of getting through thirty days without calling would be more poignant without chocolate!"
And then, on a more helpful note, I suggested "hey, don't call him today"... "because today you can't imagine every calling him again"...."but if you find yourself wanting to call him tomorrow or the next day or next week, that will be understandable... and if you want to call him, just call him."
She then said something like "what about my pride?"
I had no idea what she was talking about. I seem to remember something about pride from a time long ago, but as far as I know I have none left in this particular lifetime. I'm assuming I'd know if I had any pride left. I'm pretty sure I don't.
So basically I ignored her pride - or lack of pride - or fear of lacking pride - and I suggested she do whatever felt right as it felt right. I suggested that when it comes to food and love and war and other basic sustenance, who knows how you'll feel tomorrow? And who knows how you'll feel down the road? And who knows how life's odd circumstances might intervene?
Who the hell knows?
The answer is we only know one thing for sure: the thing you say you'll never do again or want to do again is probably something you'll find yourself open to at some point in the future.
I know you find it amazing that you don't even think about carbs since you switched to that miraculous high protein and all fat diet, but believe me...one day you'll see an egg roll or a corner piece of birthday cake or a little innocent tortellini and you just might think a fond thought about a carb. Despite the promises you made to yourself.
Or maybe you'll want to call or kiss or just think about that person you said you'd hate forever.
We say the things we feel today. We react. We emote. We act on our passions.
But acting on our passions and following through on our passions are two very different things.
So my buddy called me back. After the emotional epiphany. Yes, she had realized that she'd probably want to talk to him. So she revised her previous position.
"Okay. I won't call him until the summer."
I suggested she also give up chocolate until the summer. And coffee. And the New York Times and The Sopranos.
I figured with that much control over her human-ness, she was a shoe-in for total deprivation.
Then I told her I'd let her go.
I know she thought I was just being nice, but I was really going to look for White Male Doctors. And carbs.