April, Come She Will

But not soon enough...dammit.

Today is the first morning of Spring. It comes after a nasty icebox day of snow, sleet, slush and cold, biting rain. The weather, here in New England yesterday, was truly vile. Depraved even.

Rocco, understandably worn out after yesterday’s Siberian storm front impression, demanded tuna and catnip for brekkie. Seriously. I brought him his Fancy Feast Seafood Feast in Gravy and he just gave me that ‘you’re joking, right?’ look and walked back into his cat cave.

I understood and fetched the good stuff.

Today is also the ten year anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq. I clearly remember that decade ago day. It was warm and sunny. I met a friend in Central Square, Cambridge. Tom and I had intended to visit a couple of galleries and do some book shopping at Rodney’s. Instead, we sat on the City Hall lawn drinking our 1369 Coffee House brews speechless in our shock and fear.

While surfing the net this morning I found, at Crooks and Liars, a link to a letter, written by dying Iraq War vet Tomas Young to George W. Bush and Dick Cheney.

Go read the whole thing -- it’s not long and it's worth it.
a snippet:

I write this letter because, before my own death, I want to make it clear that I, and hundreds of thousands of my fellow veterans, along with millions of my fellow citizens, along with hundreds of millions more in Iraq and the Middle East, know fully who you are and what you have done. You may evade justice but in our eyes you are each guilty of egregious war crimes, of plunder and, finally, of murder, including the murder of thousands of young Americans—my fellow veterans—whose future you stole.

I’ve got nothing to add.

Paul Simon -- April Come She Will