What Is A Terrorist
The following bit was originally published in October of 2004 (back when I maintained a complete Ugly Dude website - which was way less than a website hot spot).
To confront harsh reality, I’m not sure that anybody even read it. But, that’s not all that important. I believe that thoughts are vibrations, and that when we ponder a subject with a purpose, we broadcast those thoughts. I believe that those thoughts can be received by others - other like-minded thinkers.
The questions posed remain unanswered, the thoughts pondered are still worthy of your musings.
What Is A Terrorist?
Terrorist - what exactly is a terrorist? The online OneLook Dictionary Search provided this:
. noun: a radical who employs terror as a political weapon; usually organizes with other terrorists in small cells; often uses religion as a cover for terrorist activities
which begs the next logical question - what is terror? Again using the OneLook reference:
. noun: a very troublesome child
. noun: a person who inspires fear or
. noun: an overwhelming feeling of fear and anxietyWhy do I ask? Well, I am having trouble coming to grips with the way we use the word. When I say we, I guess that I mean Americans in general and probably more specifically, American news organizations.
On September 11, 2001, our country was attacked by “The Terrorists”. There can be no questioning the fact that we were attacked. I remember saying at the time (to no one in particular), “this is not an act of terrorism - it is an act of war”. And while I’m not sure if there was an official Declaration of War, there can be no doubt that we are engaged in a “War on Terror”. We are told so every day; we are reminded in countless ways that our way of life is threatened by these terrorists. I do not question this fact (although I do have many questions regarding our consequent actions; questions that many Americans do not ask).
But our use of the word “terrorist” pre-dates 9-11. I cannot be sure when it came into popular usage, but I seem to remember it being used extensively in the reporting of the ongoing conflict in the Middle East between Israel and the Palestinians. And it is in this context that I believe we may have started misapplying or misusing the term. In the context of the conflict between Israel and her neighbors, could it be that the word “terrorist” is way overused? Could it be that the word itself is more a tool of propaganda than an accurate description of a combatant?
Please hear me out - and know that I am doing my best to “not take sides”, but to be objective. You see, while I accept the fact that the Israelis are our allies and that the Palestinians are not, I don’t know why exactly. The general consensus that the Jews are the good guys and that their enemies are the bad guys seems to me to be way over-simplified. I do not pretend to understand this ongoing conflict, but hasn’t this been going on for centuries? Is there any factual basis to the Biblical accounts of the Jews and her neighbors killing each other for … (almost forever)?
Ah! Maybe, therein lies part of the problem of understanding? The Bible, which many accept as the Word of God, paints the Jews as the good guys and the enemies of the Jews as the bad guys. So, could it be that we need a word to describe the enemy of the Jews, a word that clearly shows that he is a bad guy? Yes, I think that it could be. Terrorist, that’s the word. We can use that word to paint a mental image of the bad guy.
And if I have ANY of this right - it brings me right back to my confusion concerning the use of the word terrorist. Why is it that when a 19 year old Israeli straps a helicopter gunship to his back and flies over Palestinian territory and kills people - he is a soldier engaged in war - BUT - when a 19 year old Palestinian straps explosives to his back and goes into Israeli territory and kills people - he is a terrorist?
Do you see my point of confusion?
Just the other day, I came across an article at The Daily Beast entitled - Which One’s The Terrorist? You might find it a worthwhile read.
Hopefully, I will have more to say about our use of the words - terror and terrorist. But I’m not sure when - you see, some thoughts are just not that easy to get out of my head and onto a page.
BMud
Trapped Somewhere Between
Insanity And Sincerity
The Weirdos Bazaar - V2
Are you ready for another verse?
The Weirdos Bazaar
There’s Pete the Pent
Mired in his hate
Wanting to run
But stuck at the gate
Wondering how he got stuck in a rut
Not knowing his head is stuck up his butt
Emotions so tense like a stretched rubberband
Blinded, refusing - he won’t understand
The joy of joining brotherhood of man.
BMud
Trapped Somewhere Between
Insanity And Sincerity
The Weirdos Bazaar - V1
There are times when I get some kind of strange urge, and I indulge myself to pen nonsensical poetry. Often I end up with pages and pages of scribbled, scratched out, and reworked words.
Sometimes, I let the words alone on the page and they take time to rework themselves into a rhythm that pleases me.
And other times, I do something different. This is one of those “something different” times. Here is a mere verse of what could be another nonsensical epic (meaning to say that I hope to publish more as I play with it).
The Weirdos Bazaar
Verse 1
We’re surrounded by weirdos
At the weirdo’s bazaar.
The weirdos have come
From near and from far.
Some weirdos have walked
And some drove their cars.
Now that thought might drive you straight to the bars.
Or possibly, leave some emotional scars …
Thinking, weirdos surround me at the Weirdos Bazaar.
BMud
Trapped Somewhere Between
Insanity And Sincerity
Shadowed Perversions
Shadowed Perversions
While no one will say
In the light of the day
Why the lights in the night sky cast no shadows
Ah, the shadows – I love those shadows
On the soulless lusts
For the cheeks and the busts
Of the girls of the night who play under red shadows
Deep dark red shadows, Oh those shadows
We have no aversions
To certain perversions
That strive to thrive to a climax in the dark shadows
Ooooo, dark shadows
Cast no shadows
Under red shadows
In the dark shadows
And the shadow knows
Or so I’m told
The story goes
And the shadows we cast
Like mirrors of our past
Like fears that must last
They haunt our lives and loves right into day
They won’t go away
They can’t go away
We are who we are
Under sun
Under star
And we never go far
No, we never go far
Without shadows
We always have our shadows
BMud
Trapped Somewhere Between
Insanity And Sincerity
One-Eyed Man In The Valley Of The Blind - Revisited1
This bit was originally published 2 years and 3 days ago, under the title of
“The Whenever The Hell I Can Get It Together
To Present My Shallow Views
Of Small Slices Of Pop Culture”
Episode 3 - In which da blind dude rasps out a few line of song to do battle with the minions of devious mind control.
Another episode is currently working its way thru the echoes of my mind, and I thought that - just maybe - revisiting a past adventure might activate the mental alchemy of turning thoughts into words.
Shall we rename the Series and start anew? Yes, we’ll call it:
One-Eyed Man In The Valley Of The Blind
The scene starts from afar – it is designed to suck you in. A shapely raven-haired woman, curves in all the places that tempt, is moving or maybe dancing on a mountain ridge, high above the hustle and bustle and toil and drudge of daily existence. Her sensuous body is clothed in two layers: one hugs tightly to the shape of her hips and her waist and her breasts, and the second layer flows like a breeze, accentuating her movements.
Your view is drawn in slowly and effortlessly – it is very easy to look at the beauty of the scene as it somehow paints itself upon a canvas in your mind. The woman’s movements and the flow of sheer fabric is poetry in motion. The mountain ridge is symbolical serenity, a peace that is easy to desire without the burden of sin.
As you are drawn ever closer to the scene, there is more of the woman with flowing aesthetics and less of the surrounding countryside. When you get close enough, she stops, looks at you, and says, “it’s not your clothes”.
As the scene changes, you are left with a void that can only be filled with a question – “what does she mean?”
A new scene unfolds, using the same skilled cinematic technique. Only this time, it is a handsome man in a desert setting. I must apologize for not having the same powers of recall for the retelling of this scene, which is designed to lure a woman, as I had for describing the scene designed to lure a man.
But perhaps my lack of recall is due to the fact that I am a man, and I was lured by the first scene. Lured, not tempted. Lured, not seduced.
And my definition of lure? Provoke someone to do something through (often false or exaggerated) promises or persuasion.
I don’t remember exactly what it is that the handsome man says at the end of his scene, but it is – “it’s not your ______” (fill in the blank). Several similar scenes unfold, and we are told: “it’s not your clothes”, “it’s not your neighborhood”, “it’s not your music”, ….
And because we are conditioned, and because we have been so successfully lured, we absolutely must ask, “well, then – what is it?”
It’s your watch.
All of this exquisite salesmanship, this skilled cinematography, this borderline subliminal messaging is put forth to make us aware that it is our watch that most aptly says “Who We Are”. If we own one of these expensive timepieces, we are one of the beautiful people, and we are able to make a profound statement with merely our presence.
Well, EXCUSE ME. I don’t even own a watch. And I suppose that makes me a real NOBODY. And, I can’t help it, but here comes a few plagiarized snippets of a classic Beatles song – “I’m a real nowhere man sitting in my nowhere land making all my nowhere plans for nobody.” But that’s not really me. I’m more like a few plagiarized words from a Bob Seger song – “I’ve done cruised out of that city, and gone down to the sea, I’ve shouted at the ocean, hey it’s me – AND I don’t need no stinkin’ watch!”
You do NOT have to own an expensive watch to be somebody.
But my point here goes way beyond stating that you don’t have to own “anything” in order to be somebody. I have a few philosophies of life (just a few), and one of them could possibly be summed up thusly: It is not what you have that defines who you are, but what you think, how you act, and what you do that defines the real you.
Don’t be sucked in. Don’t bite the pretty lure – it’s full of nasty hooks.
BMud
Trapped Somewhere Between
Insanity And Sincerity