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America's First Terror War
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Today's Stories May 7, 2007 Patrick Cockburn
Alexander Cockburn William Blum Uri Avnery Franklin Lamb Fred Gardner Lawrence R.
Velvel Missy Beattie Robert Fantina Carla Blank Linn Washington,
Jr. Stephen F. Jackson P. Sainath Anthony Papa James T. Phillips John Ross Stephen Lendman Ben Terrall CounterPunch
Newswire Poets' Basement Website of
the Weekend
May 4, 2007 Patrick Cockburn Col. Dan Smith Norman Solomon Azmi Bishara Ron Jacobs Dave Lindorff Kevin Zeese Bob Fitrakis Janet Kauffman Website of
the Day
May 3, 2007 Jeff Halper Christopher
Brauchli Dave Zirin Corporate Crime
Reporter Robert Fisk Mike Ferner Mike Whitney Pham Binh Dave Lindorff Michael A.
Johnson Website of the Day
May 2, 2007 Saul Landau Dr. Susan Block Carla Blank Margaret Kimberly Kevin Zeese Carlos Villareal Michael Dickinson Tim Shorrock Alevtina Rea William S.
Lind Website of the Day
Andrew Cockburn Fred Gardner Chase Madar Ralph Nader John V. Walsh Joshua Frank Leslie Radford Shaun Harkin Dave Lindorff Peter Rost,
MD Peter Linebaugh Website of
the Day
April 30, 2007 Frank Menetrez Paul Craig
Roberts Ray McGovern Manuel Garcia,
Jr. Diana Johnstone Sherwood Ross Peter Rost, MD Robert Jensen Kevin Zeese Jane Stillwater Website of
the Day
April 28 / 29, 2007 Alexander Cockburn Jeffrey St.
Clair Fred Gardner David Orchard
Alan Maass Joe Bageant Robert Fantina Hanan Ashrawi Ron Jacobs Nicole Colson Ben Terrall Missy Beattie Harvey Wasserman Cindy Beringer Mike Roselle RAWA James McEnteer Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend
Eva Liddell Phyllis Bennis Mike Whitney Michael F.
Brown Jordan Flaherty Margaret Kimberly Christopher Brauchli Jacob Mundy Website of the Day
Andrew Cockburn Franklin Lamb Patrick Cockburn Roger Morris Henry Siegman Alevtina Rea Paris Nikolas Kozloff Alan Farago Matthew S. Miller Website of
the Day
Sharon Smith David Price Diana Johnstone Brendan Cooney Sonja Karkar Brian Concannon Lee Gaillard Leah Fishbein Dave Lindorff Neal Galloway Website of the Day
April 24, 2007 Ishmael Reed Lila Rajiva Paul Craig Roberts Patrick Cockburn Ralph Nader Mike Whitney Website of the Day
April 23, 2007 Saul Landau Patrick Cockburn Robert Fantina Sam Husseini Corporate Crime Reporter Elizabeth Lalasz Harvey Wasserman Dave Lindorff Gary Leupp Stephen Lendman Website of the Day
Alexander Cockburn Fred Gardner Kristoffer Larsson Barbara Rose
Johnston Manuel Garcia, Jr. John Scagliotti Marjorie Cohn Patrick Cockburn Diana Johnstone Ron Jacobs Evelyn Pringle BANCO Paul Richards Dan Bacher Ben Terrall Sherwood Ross Remi Kanazi Aseem Shrivastava Poets' Basement Website of
the Day
April 20, 2007 Doug Peacock Diane Farsetta Tom Clifford Amira Hass Nicole Colson Sonja Karkar Heather Gray Dr. Bouthaina Shaaban Agustin Velloso Matthew Koehler Website of
the Day
April 19, 2007 Emad Mekay
/ Patrick Cockburn Larry C. Johnson Norman Solomon Saul Williams Sunsara Taylor Harvey Wasserman Christopher
Brauchli Anthony Papa Dave Lindorff Website of the Day
April 18, 2007 Lila Rajiva Landau / Hassen Charles Fisher
/ Diane Christian Kevin Prosen China Hand Peter Rost,
MD Justin Akers Chacón Jerry Kroth Sherwood Ross Niranjan Ramakrishnan Alice Cherbonnier Website of
the Year?
April 17, 2007 Jean Bricmont
/ Paul Craig
Roberts Frida Berrigan Alison Weir John Walsh Jason Hribal Evelyn Pringle Ben Terrall Stan Cox Soren Ambrose Website of the Day
April 16, 2007 John F. Sugg Ismael Hossein-Zadeh Carl G. Estabrook Paul Craig Roberts Uri Avnery Ralph Nader Eamon McCann Lee Sustar Mike Whitney Don Fitz Stephen Lendman Website of the Day
April 14 / 15, 2007 Alexander Cockburn Jorge Mariscal Jeffrey St. Clair Dave Marsh Dr. Trudy Bond Joe Bageant Fidel Castro Alfredo Molano Alan Farago Michael Neumann Fred Gardner Ron Jacobs Gail Dines Linda Ford Missy Beattie Dan La Botz Giuliana Sgrena Laura Carlsen Abu Spinoza Elizabeth Schulte Poets' Basement Website of
the Weekend
April 13, 2007 Patrick Cockburn Stephen Soldz George Ciccarriello-Maher Laith al-Saud Dave Zirin John Ross Ramzy Baroud Harvey Wasserman Lopez, Olivo and Garcia Dols, Fukumori,
Judd and Tillett-Saks Website of the Day
April 12, 2007 JoAnn Wypijewski Paul Craig
Roberts Marjorie Cohn Evelyn Pringle Ron Jacobs Norman Solomon Joe DeRaymond Nicola Nasser Nikolas Kozloff William S.
Lind Siegfried L. Sassoon Website of
the Day
R. T. Naylor Vijay Prashad Patrick Cockburn Winslow T. Wheeler Jack Balkwill Alan Farago Russell D.
Hoffman Peter Rost, MD Mike Whitney Dave Lindorff Susie Day Website of the Day
April 10, 2007 James G. Abourezk Earl Ofari
Hutchinson Joshua Frank Lee Sustar Joseph Grosso Nirmal Ghosh Robert Jensen Ramzy Baroud Paul Rockwell Mario Joseph
and Fred Wilhelms Website of
the Day
April 9, 2007 Saul Landau Uri Avnery Nicole Colson Gideon Levy Corporate Crime Reporter Evelyn Pringle Hill Kemp Martha Rosenberg Keith Rosenthal Jane Stillwater Website of the Day
Alexander Cockburn Sara Roy Arno J. Mayer Jeffrey St.
Clair Vicente Navarro Fidel Castro Fred Gardner Ralph Nader David N. Rahni Arthur Neslen Pratyush Chandra Missy Beattie Marc Levy Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend
April 6, 2007 Franklin Lamb Gloria La Riva Corporate Crime Reporter Ron Jacobs Felice Pace Walter Brasch David Swanson Sylvia Syracuse
Patrick Cockburn Tom Barry Richard W. Behan Nicola Nasser Bernadine Dohrn Laray Polk Helen Redmond
April 4, 2007 Col. Dan Smith Joshua Frank Margaret Kimberly Sharon Smith Jeff Cohen and Norman Solomon Martin Luther
King,Jr. Bill Quigley Dave Zirin Evelyn Pringle Peter Rost,
MD Website of the Day
April 3, 2007 Patrick Cockburn Marjorie Cohn Brian M. Downing Corporate Crime
Reporter Carol Norris Ralph Nader Dave Lindorff Scott Bontz Thomas Dolby Website of
the Day
Gary Leupp Uri Avnery James Petras Norman Solomon Robert Fisk Stanley Heller Sherwood Ross Monica Benderman Stephen Fleischman Anne McElroy
Dachel Website of the Day
Cockburn /
St. Clair Fred Gardner Greg Moses Gary Leupp Robert Fisk Roger Morris Conn Hallinan Kristin J.
Anderson Jason Hribal John Ross Christopher Brauchli David Underhill Elizabeth Schulte Ben Terrall Missy Beattie Sonja Karkar Daniel Wolff David Vest Ron Jacobs Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend
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May 7, 2007 His Cross, His Faith and a Cup of CoffeeLand of OpportunityBy MONICA BENDERMAN Juan was sixteen or he could have been twelve. Neither one of us spoke the other's language but we communicated with hand signals, drawing pictures in the air and pointing to symbols to describe the words we couldn't understand. Stretching out into the deepening surf of the southern Gulf of Mexico, rock jetties provided the perfect place to sit and watch the crashing waves, pelicans feeding and the sky darken to meet the color of the water at the end of the day. Juan was quiet as he inched his way closer to the rock Dylan, my golden retriever, and I were sitting on. He reached out to pet Dylan with a sad look in his eye. For the next few nights I drove to the beach, Juan always seemed to appear out of nowhere wanting to pet Dylan and talk in the language we had contrived. He was from a poor village in Mexico. His parents had come across the border bringing him with them, hoping to find the better way of life the stories their friends told had painted into a bright colored picture. They'd been in the States for almost a year, and life had not gotten better. Juan had left his dog in Mexico. They were best friends. Now Juan had no one to talk to. I would drive him home from the beach after we talked for a while and he'd had his fill of playing with Dylan. I never did know exactly where "home" was for Juan. We always drove down an abandoned street where he got out of the car at an abandoned house; windows and doors boarded up and tree limbs strewn across the yard. He would leave the car and run through the yard not looking back, carrying the latest flashcards I had made for him to learn more English words before our next visit on the beach. I never left empty handed--I would bring colored pencils and empty cards of my own for him to use to create my lessons in Spanish. One night Juan was already at the rocks when Dylan and I walked to the end of the jettie. He was trying not to cry but with little success. His father had been taken away and he couldn't articulate why. He and his mother were returning to Mexico. He reached over and hugged Dylan. He was leaving another friend. America--land of dreams. It seems as if that is all this country is anymore; a land of dreams. There are so many visions, so many campaign promises, so much money given to support the politicians with the strongest, loudest spoken words. Where are the people doing the work to see that the promises are kept as we watch more and more dreams become nightmares? Abraham was sixty-two but he could have been seventy. He walked with a limp leaning on a rough-hewn walking stick, his attempts to carve it into a work of art left unfinished when arthritis got the better of the act. A small county-seat town west of San Antonio displayed a Mexican influence in the stucco walls and red tile roofs of the buildings circling the courthouse and town square. In the center of this land-locked square sat an old lighthouse, now the local police department and a museum of the Old West; cowboys, cattle and their influence on the development of the community. Abraham was sitting on a bench outside the door of a small coffee shop which seemed to cater to the cosmopolitan-minded people working in the legal offices adjacent to court. Well-dressed people trafficked in and out, coffee in one hand and cell phone in the other. I brought my coffee outside and handed a second cup to Abraham. His eyes said "thank you" and I sat down on the bench next to him to talk. He seemed surprised, but quickly started to tell me his life's history. His family had brought him to Texas when he was ten. They crossed the border with several other families in the dark of night. He had been scared, but could do nothing except move along as his parents tried to find their way to a better life. Abraham's father had been a craftsman, working stones and metal into pieces of art. Abraham reached in his pocket and pulled out a cross made of silver and turquoise. His father had made it when Abraham turned twenty-one and he'd kept it in his pocket ever since. He'd had a variety of jobs over the years, never finished school and struggled now as his arthritis threatened to become debilitating. His parents had died never seeing the fulfillment of the dream they left home for. Abraham never did find a home, but he had his cross, his faith and a cup of coffee. As I rose to walk on, a woman came out of the coffee shop, closed her cell phone and looked over at Abraham. She kicked his foot, slapped at the air in front of his eyes and launched into a tirade of curses telling him to go away, go anywhere, but go away from there. She was tired of looking at him, tired of watching him sit and ask for help and she was going to do whatever she could to see that he was forced out of town. America. People come here for the promise of dreams fulfilled. People living with no hope for a better future look to the illusion of success displayed on our websites, our TV advertisements, our movies, and risk their lives for a piece of that illusion. Beneath the finely coiffed and painted exteriors of the images we project lies the truth, and the reason we should be closing our borders, building walls to keep the dreamers of success away, sending them back to the reality of their homelands. We can't give these people what they are looking for because we don't have it ourselves. We can't help those who believe in the illusion because it is simply an illusion; words spoken well, but nothing more than words, nothing more than computer generated graphics showing what we all dream of but few actually do the work to achieve. Xavier was ageless; young and old at the same time. He was like a shadow working around the tennis club where I gave lessons, the results of his efforts always clearly visible as the man remained hidden from all but the most trusted members. He would come to my office at the end of the night when leagues were over and it was time to close. He had been working there for years before I arrived, knew the story of every member and kept their secrets. He spoke broken English with a twinkle in his eye showing a spirit that knew how to fight to survive in a country his family had come to hoping for more than just survival. He was going to have to figure out what to do next, the new company buying the club was not going to let him stay, and would be hauling away the old trailer he lived in with two dogs, five chickens and a goat. He was worried about what was going to happen to the animals more than he was himself. He thought he might just find an old sofa, put it on the beach and live there selling palm branch designs for the money to pay for food to eat. He had a ritual before leaving each night; to make sure the lights were turned off, the front door locked and when my car engine was running and the headlights on he would always ask what the one word was that I lived by. I would always answer "Believe," spelling it out before he asked because I knew he would. I came to work one morning and Xavier was gone, but when I opened my car door that night there on the seat was a small piece of wood with a hand-woven design covering it "Belive" it read in bright orange, green and yellow thread; "BE -- LIVE" and I could almost see the twinkle in Xavier's eye knowing the misspelling had been intentional all along. America. I wonder sometimes if it isn't that those who come do so for the better life they are supposed to find here, but rather that they come because we need them to show us the meaning of the lessons we too arrogantly believe we do not have to learn. We have a constitution--more than just paper, it is a legitimate enumeration of the laws of humanity which should apply to all, and which would apply to all if all understood their responsibility to follow those laws. We are the United States of America, a nation of immigrants who struggled to survive in a land full of opportunity for all, until all became a hollow word and the greedy few found false power in the illusion of their monetary success. Nine more American soldiers died today, in a land we invaded under the illusion of helping its people find what we have. People say we're losing that battle. I look at the direction our country is heading--I listen to the news of the direction the country we invaded has taken today. I don't think we're far from achieving our goal after all. How much farther along would we be if our soldiers had been home defending our laws, helping us to become what we were meant to be? Monica Benderman is the wife of Sgt. Kevin Benderman, a ten-year Army veteran who served a combat tour in Iraq and a year in prison for his public protest of war and the destruction it causes to civilians and to American military personnel. Please visit their website, www.BendermanDefense.org to learn more. Kevin and Monica may be reached
at mdawnb@coastalnow.net
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The Gang's All Here: Judy Miller, Bob Woodward, Jeffrey Goldberg, Rupert Murdoch, Bill O'Reilly...End Times Leaves No Reputation Unstained!  Buy End Times Now! CounterPunch Books! Saul Landau's Bush and Botox World with a Foreword by Gore Vidal  Click Here to Order!  Michael Neumann's Devastating Rebuttal of Alan Dershowitz Grand Theft Pentagon: Tales of Greed and Profiteering in the War on Terror by Jeffrey St. Clair           The Occupation by Patrick Cockburn           CITY BEAUTIFUL By Tennessee Reed        Bruce Springsteen On Tour By Dave Marsh                   |
