All the Wrong Fucking Words Are Profane

"The problem with Iraq see..." said the man "...is that they haven't allowed our military to do what needed to be done from the very beginning. Which is turn the entire place into a glass parking lot." And in spite of the afternoon heat of September, my blood went suddenly cold and my entire body shuddered visibly. I should have known better. We were, after all, on his turf. A homeschooler's playgroup, on a League City, Texas playground....really - what the fuck was I thinking?

I can't recall what started it. But from that mind-bending sentance on, all I could think about were the films, articles and first-hand accounts of post-invasion Baghdad. This was not death and destruction enough? But those are all things I am sure to this very day, this man has never bothered to look at or read. Yet here we were...Me: heart-pounding, teeth-clamping to tongue, choking back profanity. Him: unapologetically exhorting complete annihilation, and chuckling about it. "Oh, I'm not saying do it without warning...heh..heh...you know, drop some leaflets. Give 'em three days to pack-up and clear out...then bomb the hell out of it!" Then he just...sort of...shrugged. Yeah. No biggie.

The coffee and milk I chugged in the car now sat churning in my stomach, my palms sweated, and I trembled. I even briefly contemplated leaning over and ever so politely puking on the ground next to our table. I wonder if he would have even noticed? But even if he had, this "Christian" man, I am sure, would have assumed no responsibility in the matter.

Mind you, I actually did know better. I grew up here. I grew up knowing and listening to LOTS of people like this. But one incredible husband, four years of college and ten years in the Pacific Northwest had been enough to detox me from those "formative" years. No way was this conversation a good idea. But times being what they were, I got cocky and thought I could handle it. After all...I had been keeping up with things.

 But there's no talking to folks like this, their minds are made up. Their reasoning is inscribed neatly, chapter and verse, on their cold, dead hearts. This is all just part of God's plan...which if not for a few, spineless, godless people like myself, they would have already managed to execute. Fitting word, execute.

The short of it? I stumbled all over myself trying to convince this man...this "Christian" man, he had no claim to the high-ground whilst advocating something so completely immoral. Never mind all the information about Iraq he lacked. But if I had this moment back today, I tell you, I'm almost positive I would just unclench my teeth and free all those curdled profanities. Because they are still hung up in the back of my throat today. "Fuck you, pal." I long to say, each time we nod politely from opposite ends of the playground. "May all our lovely children somehow escape the suffering you so casually invite on the children of Iraq. Heh...heh...yeah...that's right, I said FUCK you!"

What neither of us knew on that sweltering September day was that Hurricane Ike was days away from rearranging the entire landscape around us for miles and miles and miles. And do you know what? That asshole actually had the audacity to complain about it. All the wrong fucking words are profane.