Why I Fear Returning to the United States

I always think "it" may happen to me. When I saw Rodney Kind getting smashed to a bloody pulp, I thought it could happen to me. My fear, however, goes beyond such notorious incidents. In fact, the very thought of returning to the United States makes me almost succumb to paranoia.

 

It wasn't always like that. As a kid, I truly believed in the divine greatness of America. One of my favorite songs for several years was: "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue." Hell, for a long time I contemplated joining the army so I could spread freedom. People forget that after 9/11, many Americans revered W Bush. His approval rating was massively high, and it was not until the blunder that was Iraq that many Americans started losing faith in the greatness of our country. I felt deceived about the weapons of mass destruction that never materialized, outrage at torture in Abu Ghraib and in CIA black sites, and dismayed at the general incompetence of the government.

 

Unlike most of my liberal friends, however, my concerns for the future of the United States were not allayed by Barack Obama. My mistrust of America went deeper than just one man in the executive branch. I had lost faith in America's fourth estate.

 

I remember watching documentary after documentary in the 1990s and early 00s detailing the Saddam menace in Iraq. It's only in retrospect that I've learned that what the US media presented as a solid, clear-cut case was in fact anything but in the eyes of most of the world. And though the CEO of the executive branch has changed skin colors, the media remains as whitewashed as ever; the Murdochs of the world are still pulling the same strings.

 

It was with that lack of faith that I decided not to vote for Obama. That Obama was even being allowed airtime by corporate media outlets was enough to signal to me that he would continue many of his predecessor's policies. I knew there would be -- and there has rightfully been -- much needed change on the domestic front, but limited gay rights and a sub-par health insurance are not enough to blind me to Obama's foreign policy of drone executions, torture forgiveness, bailout of bankers, and general usurpation of the Constitution. None of Obama's CIA and Wall Street-subservient policies have surprised me. I knew when he was running for office that he had the "reformed" face the establishment needed. I knew before he got elected that the capacity of blacks for tyranny and subservience to corporate masters was just as well-developed as that of whites.

 

So, I lost faith in the fourth estate for supporting a corrupt executive and sanitizing his bloodthirst in the Middle East. Further, my faith in the police and the judicial system was eroded the more I read about private prisons. Correction Corp --- the very same corporation that just recently signed a deal with the same religious fundamentalists who brought us the W Bush caliphate -- circulated a memo requesting states keep their prisons at a certain capacity. State agreements with private interests in the freedom of men encourages draconian legislation that unfairly targets poor minorities. The United States has 5% of the world's population, but 25% of the world's prisoners. America's prison population surpasses that of China by 1 million, and there are 5 million Americans also on probation and parole. America incarcerates more people than any other country on earth.

 

In the US, I'd be more afraid of a cop planting drugs in the trunk of my car, than I'd be of walking around the South Bronx at 3am. I have lived in the South Bronx, and can relate to this issue personally. It was a fellow Dominican cop from the Bronx who quit the force, outraged at the fact that he was expected to maintain quotas instead of "serve and protect." Simply put, I feel safer around American criminals than American cops.

 

Finally, and most controversially, I feel that the government has not been fully forthwith concerning the events of September the 11th, 2001. The government spent more money investigating Monica Lewinsky than it did the murder of 3,000 of our fellow citizens. On top of spending less money on the 9/11 commission, the commissioners have complained of getting stonewalled. The commissioners themselves wrote a book detailing how they were, "set up to fail." The fact that more than a decade after the attacks, I still don't know the truth hits me with more symbolism than memories of the Berlin wall. The culture of guns and conspiracy itself is enough to scare me. I truly fear that some new truth or widely-circulated rumor could set about a catastrophic chain of events.

 

As catastrophic as the government's response to Hurricane Katrina, which highlighted how the poor are neglected and outcast.  But of course, better disaster response means entrusting the executive branch with near-dictatorial powers. Congress gave Bush the power to declare martial law; this years after his follies in Iraq. Though he lost those power the following year, his executive orders and future legislation basically guarantees that a future president, if not this current one, will gain control of the Nation Guard, and the power to deploy the military in the streets; hopefully not as bloody as when Lincoln did. The imperial presidency has never been so more encoded into law.

 

When a federal judge declared Obama's power to kill Americans without trial legal, she said she found herself in a veritable catch-22. And indeed, the American catch-22 extends beyond government. It sinks into the psyche of every American that wakes up and still believes himself to live in a free and dignified Homeland.

Whore-haggling in Manila

I arrived in Manila almost instantaneously. I was drunk off my ass when my Quebecois buddy Pierre dragged me from some forsaken balcony in Itaewon, and put us on the train to Incheon airport. I blacked out as soon as we got on the plane to Manila, waking up in a different world. Consistent with my inability to plan, I had no idea what awaited me. Pierre joked that he was glad to finally be in South America, and the reality is that our knowledge of where we were was limited. 

I had read the Wikipedia page on the Philippines some years before flying into Manila, and had a Filipina friend in college. I wasn't fully ignorant -- I simply enjoy chaos and spontaneity -- but I knew nothing about the city. Pierre, however, had been told one word: Malate.

We hopped on a cab and told the driver to drop us off in Malate. Malate wasn't that different from the crippling third world poverty I had grown up seeing in The Dominican Republic. If anything, drinking a cold San Miguel in the first terrace we entered felt like I was back in the Caribbean. I could feel the tropical poverty being drowned out of my eyes by the cold beer and the excitement of adventure in a new city. 

However, I am not sure whether I was blind or a fool, but it quickly became obvious that Pierre and I were unusually popular with the ladies. Of course, we're both good looking guys who exude confidence, but that was overshadowed by the fact that we were North American. The very first two girls who approached us were tricking, they told us that straight up. 

We fled to the next bar and walked into a sea of women. There were maybe 60 girls and 6 guys standing around listening to the music. Pierre and I approached a couple of American dudes, clearly Marines, who simply told us they worked in the US embassy. "They'll ask your for cab fare once you have sex with them," the Marine in black told me. The dude was trying to show us the ropes, how to get the most bang for our buck, when an old white guy came in and stole the show. 

He was balding, nearly blind, and stumbling with a cane as 4 hot young brown girls trailed behind him. He sat down, one of the girls lifted his shirt and started rubbing his massive beer gut, as another started scratching his shiny bald head. The old guy gleamed contentedly behind his magnifying specs; he was nearly blind. 

Disgusted, Pierre and I walked out. Along the way to finding a hotel, we were approached by about 10 or 12 kids begging for money. It was late night and they were no more than six or seven years of age. Perhaps they were older; frail bodies sometimes betray the truth of age. They were mobbing us for money, and Pierre and I angrily shook them off: "get the fuck away!"  I screamed after I noticed my book bag was suddenly open. We knew we quickly needed a hotel to stash our bags, or we were gonna get jacked. 

We continued walking, stumbling past families sleeping on the sidewalk. Many of the kids sleeping with their mothers were wearing nothing more than a raggedy t-shirt. Pierre and I got the very clear impression that the cardboard box they were lying on was the only thing on earth they owned. We eventually walked over a family blocking the sidewalk, and were approached by a man trying to promote his "club."

His club was patronized by 10 times more women than men, and the promoter was very eager for us to drink with some of the girls. We tried to shake off the promoter, and walked out into a mob of more promoters, each trying to outbid the other in interest for us. We kept walking and they tailed behind while promising drinks and "many regular girls," but we entered the first brightly lit hotel lobby we found and ditched them. We needed to change, prepare for the night, and stash our belongings. 

We each booked a 60 euro a night room, and I took the elevator up to the 51st floor. I dropped off my bag, showered, and changed into something clean for the night. Before Pierre and I met in the lobby again, I decided to look down from my window. Down below, I saw the same families we'd walked around, and some of the same homeless kids. I knew that I was as powerless to help them from up above, as I would be a few hours later while drinking down below.

The Day I Almost Got Arrested by The US Military Police

I don't know how it got to the point that we were walking around Itaewon in nothing but boxers and bras, but it surely involved a lot of drinking. My British buddy "Pedro" invited me to this party inside of US army Yongsan garrison, where those 6 dollar bottles of military gin and military vodka were sure to be flowing out of the coolers like it was river water. I can't even begin to try and recall how we left the Dragon hotel or how many we had, but considering that Pedro vomited as soon as we exited base and started heading towards Itaewon, it was surely enough to take down Charlie Sheen reincarnated as a horse. In all my years of alcoholism in Korea, I'd never seen Pedro throw up. Him puking may have had something to do with how we lost our pants, but such minute details have been lost to history and the passage of time.

Now, Pedro and I were civilians, but we had short hair and reeked of military gin. There's a reason why the military rations out the stuff at 6 bucks a pop: to weed out the drunks. They don't need to put a chip in the shit to know who's been chugging it the night before Physical Training; they can just smell it on you from from the other side of the barracks.  And that is exactly why, by the time we made it from Yongsan gate 3 to Itaewon station exit 3, we had already aroused concern from a  couple of MPs who'd no doubt radioed us in.

Now, the military police only have authority over US soldiers, and once Pedro and I for some reason showed the capacity to recognize military ranks, the MPs outside of the police station by Itaewon station exit 3 took serious notice. As we passed a couple of MPs, one of them motioned my way and asked me: "What happened to your clothes?"

I replied, "Listen lieutenant, tell Private Gomez over there that his head is too big for his uniform!"

I'd simply read the private's name tag, but at that point they were sure Pedro and I were two renegade soldiers out to destroy what little reputation the US army still had. Private Gomez shouted, "Hey, come back here!" and Pedro and I made a run for Polly's at the top of Hooker Hill. The MPs didn't give chase, and once we were halfway up the hill, we felt secure enough to try and enter whatever Hooker's window we felt like.

Normally, the sex workers are very inviting, but upon seeing us in our underwear, wearing bras, and reeking of military gin vomit, they locked the doors to their windows in panic. I guess they must have some kind of alert system 'cause before we even made it to the next window, it was already locked and the women inside panicked.

I guess attempted kick-in of a sex worker's window was all the military police needed to start giving chase in order to "ask questions." I screamed at Pedro, "shit, let's run to Polly's bar" but Pedro couldn't keep up. I made it up the hill and ran inside of Polly's. As I walked in, I saw that Pedro had tripped and gotten surrounded by a bunch of dudes in digicam fatigues.  I entered the bathroom at Polly's terrified for my life; I was sure I was gonna end up in a maximum security stockade, only to escape to the Itaewon underworld as a soldier of fortune, relying on nothing but my background as a mechanic and the authority my mohawk commanded.

However, as I threw some water on my face inside of the bathroom, I remembered that I was a civilian and that the US army had no authority over civilians in Korea. Pedro, on the other hand, got demoted a rank. We both had forgotten that he was in the army. I always thought he was a teacher until that day. You think you know people, but some basic things about them escape you. 

Domestic Enemy

What is the best way to rally a population behind a war? Fear and anger. If the population is afraid and angry, the government could justifiably pass draconian legislation or invade foreign countries almost at will.

 

Indeed, no one understands fear and anger better than America's Top Brass and secret intelligence chiefs. They spend days sitting around while doing nothing but thinking of how to take someone down. In 1962, America's Top Brass sat around and thought of way that they could "justifiably" invade Cuba. "Justifiably" means nothing more than popular support, even if that popular support is gained through manufactured means, through deceit. Operation Northwoods was such a manufactured means.

 

Exactly four months and 11 days before the attacks of 9/11, ABC revealed: "The plans had the written approval of all the Joint Chiefs of Staff and were presented to Kennedy's defense secretary." So, what exactly did Operation Northwoods entail? ABC writes: "plans included the possible assassination of Cuban émigrés, sinking boats, hijacking planes, blowing up a US ship, and even orchestrating violent terrorism in US cities." 

 

America's top military leaders coldly calculated that a war with Cuba was so needed, that they were willing to carry out attacks in America themselves. The plans to carry out these attacks were rejected by a very displeased Kennedy, and it took nearly 40 years for the plans to be declassified, but it makes me wonder: what else has the Chiefs of Staff been cooking up all this time? And, is there a possibility that one of these dastardly plans could have been approved by a less than moral administration?

 

Only time will tell, but considering that many records of the War on Terror have been "lost" or misplaced, there is a very real possibility that the general public may never find out the truth. There is one thing to learn about this, and that is the ability to recognize the capacity of powerful men to concoct heinous plans, to hide behind secrecy and weapons of war.

 

It is interesting to note that the Joint Chiefs of Staff has not had operational control of the military since 1986. The Goldwater-Nichols act essentially gave the president more direct power over the military. The president now gives an order, the secretary of defense contacts a Unified Combatant Commander, and a part of the world lights up. But of course, we are not an empire.

 

We are a republic of constitutional laws; laws such as the National Defense Authorization Act for 2012, the same one that gives the president the power to indefinitely detain US citizens. NDAA 2012 also added the National Guard to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

 

Though the Posse Comitatus act of 1878 prevents the president from sending the military into the streets, the National Guard has been under heavy pressure to fall into the hands of the president for quite some time (currently it is under the command of state governors.) The addition of the National Guard was opposed by all the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but that didn't stop congress. “There is no compelling military need for this change,” Army Gen. Martin Dempsey, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, said during a hearing before NDAA 2012 was passed.

 

No compelling need was also true when in 2007, congress passed the John Warner Defense Authorization Act, giving the president the power to deploy the National Guard on American streets. The provision in the John Warner act which overturned the Posse Comitatus act was repealed in part some time later; there was simply too much opposition from a public afraid of giving Bush more powers.

 

There seems to be less opposition to giving Obama more powers, even if those powers are essentially the same. Obama himself has called for the creation of a National Defense Civilian Force. There is one thing American jurisprudence has taught me: if your president is forbidden from utilizing the country's reserve military force at will, then he should simply change the name of the reserve military force. There will be nothing civilian about the National Defense Civilian Force; it will be the National Guard renamed, restructured, or merged.

How to Seduce Any Woman

5) Send her a sexy picture. You can use this one as a guide:

4) Write her a love poem. This is an excerpt from a poem I wrote some time ago:
When I saw the soap suds going down your asscrack,
I knew there in the communal shower that you were in trouble
When you allowed me to lube you up,
We both still knew that you would bleed from the heavy friction,
But you loved me so that you still took it

3) Prepare her a special meal:

2) Send her a romantic song:

1) But before you even get to sending her awesome stuff, you need to come up with an opening line that immediately captivates her and lets her know that you're serious and that she's in for a treat: