13 November 2003
Poor Jessica Lynch. You speak the truth and no one believes you. You tell fantastic lies and you are an instant heroine. (Of course, someone else told fantastic lies for her which have since been disproved, probably only because Jessica stuck to the unvarnished truth.) Ever wondered why people believe lies so readily? What is it about truth that makes people flinch from it so?
Why do people want to hear wonderful stories about courage, truth, and goodness only to rip it apart viciously? Itís not even as though they want to hear about heroes and heroines because they believe in all that is good and wonderful. They just want a story like spoiled children do. They want a toy they can take apart, a butterfly they can shred to bits. Just a story. A nice, juicy story. The more unbelievable the better. Makes for better holes any day.
What a damp squib that Jessica Lynch is. Why, she got this awesome chance to tell this stupendous story and what does that silly girl -- sheís got to be silly with that blonde hair and those wide eyes -- do? She says she did not fire a single shot. She says sheís not a hero. And here we were poised with our poison quills to prove just that she was not a hero. You idiot, YOU are not supposed to say that!! We are supposed to say that.
Letís get this straight. You are supposed to tell us how brave you were, how horrible the Iraqis were. And then, we are supposed to prove that all you said was rubbish. Then, we were to conclude, that there arenít any heroes any more. They donít make Ďem like they used to. Oh well, sigh, so much of
promise... she even looked right for the part! But no, she has to go and muck it up.
Never mind, we shall just hang in there. We never give up. Sooner or later, there will be someone else. Our quills are poised. Make it quick,