Jessica
Lynch and the Lies of the State
by
Karen De Coster
by Karen De Coster
Isn't
it staggering to hear what the Jessica Lynch Worshippers are doing
in West Virginia? Parties, balloons, fireworks, painted red-white-and-blue
buildings, yellow ribbons, marching bands, and amplified exaltations
– all the customary feelgoodisms that Americans soak up to the bone,
and with great pleasure.
As
one West Virginia resident said, "When you try to malign
Jessica, that's fighting talk in West Virginia." In
other words, the truth be damned while we are all feeling so sunny,
singing our little verses and championing our pretend playhouse
built around the government’s Jessicaisms. Are
the masses this desperate for something to make them "feel good"?
Alas, they are, and that provides the breeding ground for the State
to exploit the usual, feelgood state of affairs and pass off its
lies as truth.
I've
written about the Jessica Lynch case quite often, in my
web blog,
and I have discovered that people are either completely bought and
sold on the propaganda, and therefore livid that I would dare to
utter the truth, or, they are so tired of the relentless embellishments
that they write and cheer me on. There seems to be no middle ground
with folks. It’s a love or hate situation in terms of the State’s
worn-out propaganda tactics.
I’ve
even had the feelgooders write me and tell me that, somehow, it's
un-libertarian to "pick on" little Jessica. Of course it's not.
The whole salutation revolving around Jessica is not only another
example of the need for unceasing, idiotic feelgoodism on the part
of the incurably ignorant masses, but this time, it was all started
via the lies of the State – with the full support of its media whores in order to help perpetuate support for its brutal and needless
war. The State lied about the details of the capture of Jessica’s
maintenance unit, and it lied about her role in it. It lied about
how she received her injuries. Then the military created a huge
drama out of an uncomplicated rescue operation by its Special Forces,
playing it out for all the knee-jerking emotionalists to absorb,
worship, and behold with delight.
And
the whole focus on female Jessica – as opposed to anyone else involved
in this war was to please the affirmative action-feminist Feelgoodists,
which belong to a special breed of feelgoodism. Glory be! A Woman
Warrior we can exalt! Hallelujah! Pardon me, but Jessica Lynch is
about as much a "warrior" as the photographer on the sidelines
at a pro football game that gets crunched when Michael Vick runs
out of bounds and mows him over.
Jessica
is nothing more than a tool of the State’s propaganda machine. She
is no warrior and no heroine. In fact, she was so incompetent as
a "soldier," that her gun is said to have been jammed
due to faulty maintenance. Think about it: what does a paper-pushing,
female clerk care about guns or soldiering anyway?
Jessica
has done nothing to deserve military accolades. She determinedly
battles her injuries and trauma, however, that is a personal battle,
and it has nothing to do with performing heroics for the State.
Nor does her injury spectacle belong in the military arena as some
outstanding event to be singled out, watched over, lauded, and applauded.
If that’s the case, let’s all go down to any city or veterans hospital
right now, and strike up the band and chorus for every injured and
sick person in sight.
Whenever
the State has another one of its wars, it has to win support for
that war, and it does so through that collectivist concept known
as unity. Unity means that you don’t dare think for yourself. Unity
means that you fold yourself into the collective mold, toss reason
and critical thinking out the door, and let the lion's share of
emotions around you dictate your next train of thought and any subsequent
moves. It means you rally ‘round the Yellow Ribbon Campaign of Folly.
And it means you don’t dare ask questions or seek facts, because
the picture has already been painted for you, in total, and any
additional brush strokes on your part will land you in the propagandist’s
gulag because you disrupted the joy of unity. Your anti-unity, independent
thought process denies Hillary’s Village and its justification for
existence.
Unity
is advanced along the lines of emotions. The emotional enema takes
place via the brain. It cleans out reason and logic and it inserts
fluffy-sounding words, puffed-up feelings, cutesy images, and false,
tear-jerking stories to blubber over endlessly. What appeals to
the emotional function? An innocent chick getting nabbed by an evil,
darkie enemy. No matter how "progressive" the feminists
would like American civilization to become, our society, in general,
does not want its women in war, or anywhere near it. The American
masses are livid when they see our women caught up in the hellishness
of war. No matter how ignorant the sheeple become, they know that
women and war don’t go together.
It’s
past time to let go of the embarrassing Jessica Veneration process.
In fact, it
was indeed a Sgt. Donald Walters who is said to be the guy who fought
the captors.
Can we say that out loud? Guy. G-U-Y. Fun, isn’t it? Sgt. Walters
was only a cook, but he was apparently one tough chap. The mother
of the dead Sgt. Walters is fighting the Army for some deserved
recognition for her son, because his role in fending off capture
has never been recognized by the Supreme Propagandists at work in
the government’s propaganda mill. And why would that be?
You
see, Sgt. Walters is a man, and that doesn’t tug at the heartstrings
of the clueless masses all singing ‘round the campfire in their
endless unity circles. Men are not soft and cuddly. They aren’t
as photogenic as females, nor are they pretty. And even if they’re
blond, you won’t hear them described as "blond." No one
cares about the color of a dead guy’s hair. And since they are inherently
sturdy and more warrior-like, they are expected to be fighters and
warriors when the State needs them to be. Anything less is a failure.
Men don’t draw out the emotions as well as little bimbos in uniform.
Men don’t make good subject matter for all of the various Unity
Love-Ins. We can throw our men in front of tanks, snipers, and crazed,
suicidal killers in the course of nation-building and Empire expansion,
and we’re not supposed to be affected. Because, after all, they
are only men. Men are disposable in a feelgood society that blames
white, Euro, Western civilization for all of the social order’s
ills.
So
let’s say it no matter how politically incorrect and "callous"
it sounds: JESSICA LYNCH IS A CLERK, NOT A SOLDIER. You know, a
paper pusher. A no-excel body that was just one of many bodies sucked
into military service for economic reasons. A woman with no options
better than some low-level job in the military. A barely-motivated
welfare recipient. Yes, the military is a huge welfare program for
lower class and working class kids who have no job, no future, no
way of comfortably supporting themselves, and many of these young
people turn to military service for instant paychecks, housing,
medical insurance, cheap goods and services, and the assorted benefits
that come after their service is over. Jessica Lynch had no immediate
future, and that’s why she was a clerk in a maintenance unit in
the Army. How dare the truth be spoken!
And
now, the United States Army has officially closed the investigation
of the 507th Maintenance Unit incident involving Jessica Lynch.
How convenient. Another matter swept underneath the rug behind a
locked door so that no one can dare find out the truth behind the
lies of the State.
Oh,
and the Telegraph, a part of the foreign press not beholden
to any US regime party line or American political correctness codes,
dared
to tell us that, yes, Sgt. Donald Walters was a blond guy.
July
30, 2003
Karen
De Coster, CPA, [send
her mail] is a paleolibertarian freelance writer, graduate student
in Austrian Economics, and a business professional from Michigan.
Her first book is currently in the works. See her Mises
Institute archive for more online articles, and check out her
website, along with her
blog.
Copyright © 2003 Karen De Coster
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