Hibakusha.

Charles is leaving tomorrow. He spent the evening fairly inebriated and discussing politics with me. He repeatedly stated Barack Obama is a "Puppet" and his opinions on the War in the Middle-East.

I told him that I believe Socialism has its merits, but that most of the countries it's modernly instituted in lack the cultural divisions and sheer diversity of the United States, and that these residual feelings of animosity and inequality are likely to be hindrances to proper institution. I also expressed my concerns that the Media is what made Barack Obama's campaign - I do think that, had he not been painted as a Champion for Blacks and made into a celebrity, he would not have gotten into office due to the sheer inexperience of his political career. I also expressed concern with the endeavors to convert to a Quasi-Socialist system on the grounds that I don't think it'd be possible to finish in Obama's allotted electoral span.

Somehow, the conversation had drifted to the War in the Middle-East, at which Charles had stated, "I think we should pull out. Probably drop an Atomic Bomb and kill who we need to kill."
I said that was stupid, and that we'd adverted Mutually Assured Destruction with Russia via constant contact with each-other and eventual polices of Disarmament. He remained fairly adamant on his ideal military procedure, "Operation: Burnt Sand", and expressed a close-minded view that Arab life was somehow expendable, saying he was an advocate for Nuclear War so long as it not touch United States soil.

I told him about a friend of mine, Alon Flexer, who lives in Israel. I told him that Yasser Arafat liked Tom and Jerry because the little guy always won. I told him about a picture of a very proud Arab man and his daughter whom Lina once sent me pictures of. About the Hibakusha in Japan, and how it'd break my heart to see Alon, that man, or his daughter being ostracized for a bombing they weren't a part of, or splayed across a wall and showing a doctor their radiation burns. I told him people are worth something.

Drunken, he'd said "I'll tell you what. Life's short, man. Life's short."
I'd started to feel a little bitter - drunk people make me feel that way, because they don't have a whole lot of depth when it comes to an intellectual conversation.
You can't weigh such things as Humanity and Politics with someone who's downed a half-pack of Coors Light.



This is the picture Lina had shown me a year and some change ago.
I was moved by it, in some odd way.
Traditional things, they're still out there, and they blend seamlessly with modernist life. It also made me think less of a few people. My father is a seething racist when it comes to Middle-Easterners of any culture, and he'll address them openly as "Towel-Heads" and "Hadjis". He says it's a by-product of the time he's spent in Iraq, listening to Mortar Shells hit his Lodging Facility and things like watching Nick Berg get beheaded.
But these two, they haven't done anything.
I should show my father these two, and see if he'll change his mind.