During the period of the scandal that brought George W. Bush to power - the stealing of the election, we all waited and waited and waited, and when it was over I considered tossing a concrete block through the military recruiter's office over by the Sioux City mall.
I thought how can we let our children see that the way we deal with such profound corruption is to do nothing.
I thought we should resist.
I drove past the recruiters' offices, considered how I might make my escape, etc. I asked friends if they would like to join me. None did.
They said, are you crazy?
It just might be a lunatic you're looking for.
I stood outside on our patio, my arms outstretched, in the rain, wearing only waterproof boots cut to the calf, considering the relative weight of a sheet of paper and a concrete block.
I decided to keep writing.
I published a book in 2001 called KGB - Killing George Bush - about prisoners in the Woodbury County jail in Sioux City, Iowa.
It's not about George W., but George Sr.
In the one newspaper passed around to all the cell blocks, the prisoners read about the arrest of General Pinochet for war crimes.
And they figure that there are also war criminals up here that need to be arrested. They decide we need a Truth Commission in the United States. We need to get some sh*t worked out.
Before we go any further, let's figure out this History thing.
Find out where we've been, what we've done, who we are.
And these prisoners, who are considered bottom of the barrel human beings - the folks who come to mind when you see a dirty diaper in the gutter, the ones who the rest of us stand on in order to reach the fruit at the top of the tree - decide they will try to bring about some justice in these United States.
In the only way they know how. Because the free press and the elected and all the good people have done nothing.
I thought how can we let our children see that the way we deal with such profound corruption is to do nothing.
I thought we should resist.
I drove past the recruiters' offices, considered how I might make my escape, etc. I asked friends if they would like to join me. None did.
It just might be a lunatic you're looking for.
I stood outside on our patio, my arms outstretched, in the rain, wearing only waterproof boots cut to the calf, considering the relative weight of a sheet of paper and a concrete block.
I decided to keep writing.
I published a book in 2001 called KGB - Killing George Bush - about prisoners in the Woodbury County jail in Sioux City, Iowa.
It's not about George W., but George Sr.
In the one newspaper passed around to all the cell blocks, the prisoners read about the arrest of General Pinochet for war crimes.
And they figure that there are also war criminals up here that need to be arrested. They decide we need a Truth Commission in the United States. We need to get some sh*t worked out.
Before we go any further, let's figure out this History thing.
Find out where we've been, what we've done, who we are.
And these prisoners, who are considered bottom of the barrel human beings - the folks who come to mind when you see a dirty diaper in the gutter, the ones who the rest of us stand on in order to reach the fruit at the top of the tree - decide they will try to bring about some justice in these United States.
In the only way they know how. Because the free press and the elected and all the good people have done nothing.
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