The PenOpticon

What choice did they have? When Israel began bombing the bejeesus out of Beirut and southern Lebanon, the G8 leaders sprang into action to help evacuate thousands of westerners — particularly white, God-fearing families and students — that were stewing in the Beirut sun and in their own frustration. Stephen Harper actually flew his own plane to Cyprus where he spent two days weeping on the tarmac, bawling his eyes out because he couldn’t land the plane in Lebanon and quickly ease the pain and suffering of stranded Canadians. Or maybe he just needed to chill. Meanwhile, George and Laura Bush steamed into Beirut on a U.S. destroyer in the hope that they could pick up some Americans. To make room for more passengers, the President began loading and firing the ship’s big guns while the First Lady made sure the Gatling gun kept spitting out thousands of rounds into the southern Beirut suburbs. “Boom! Boom! Ratatatatata! Boom!” they gunned and they grinned and they gunned some more.

Not to be left out, Tony Blair roared into port piloting a 200-foot hydrofoil and began pulling pasty-white Brits aboard the vessel. Blair was determined to make this one of his finest hours and raced against time in order to both save English tourists and raise his own poll numbers. His face remained locked somewhere between a grin and a grimace as he glad-handed the multitude and maneuvered them into every corner of the ship he could find.

Meanwhile, the Bushes fumed as a Norwegian cruise ship absconded with 300 of their own people, while they were getting rid of munitions. “Don’t collaterally damage any Americans” Laura chided. Her voice prickled down his spine as he breathed the stench of freshly fired weaponry. Smiling, he loaded another shell and yelled “boom” as he fired. He loved the way Laura chided him. As the Norwegians passed by, they heard a throng of voices calling out for “Food! Food!” and “Water! Water!” George yelled down to the galley and asked if the chicken sandwiches were ready yet? “They sure are!” said the cooks and Condoleezza Rice and Donald Rumsfeld brought out two huge boxes of individually wrapped sandwiches. Bush grabbed them and started jogging down the deck of the ship until he was alongside the Norwegian. He looked down over the hungry crowd below and wondered if there would be enough to go around. “Heh heh heh heh! Them sangwiches is for ‘Mericans only” he shouted. And then he watched the crowd clamor for the food he had given them, while angry voices yelled “For Americans only! Show your passports! Show your passports!”

Dick Cheney was on the bridge scanning the sea and noticed something in the water coming straight at them. He raised his trusty Remington full choke 12 gauge and had a bead on the craft in no time. “Torpedah?” asked the President. “Jet ski” grumbled Cheney as he fired off a few rounds at it “just ‘cuz”. An aide whispered in the President’s ear, “Sir, that’s Stockwell Day, the Canadian minister of Foreign Affairs.” “Stocky!” the President bellowed, “whatchy’all doin’ on that SeaDo in the middle of this here ocean”? Day smiled and tried to speak, but he was going too fast and the noise of the Jet ski was deafening. “Is that you Coop?” Bush asked. And it was. Anderson Cooper was holding on to Day for dear life, while another reporter, the Toronto Sun’s own Christie Blatchford snaked her arms around the CNN reporter’s waist. Stockwell Day bit his lip with determination and made a beeline toward Ottawa where he hoped these two would join a larger throng of reporters who would pepper him easy questions that he would heroically answer.

And so it was that thousands of upstanding taxpayers (and potential poll-skewing voters) navigated their way through a few afternoons of hot sun and a few late meals and left Lebanon to be leveled again by Israeli soldiers armed with American weapons and money. Because they were too busy helping evacuee’s on the ground, G8 leaders could not be taken to task for giving their tacit approval to Israel for “over-reacting” to the Israeli invasion. While debate raged over who should pay for this evacuation, not one leader suggested that Israel be made to pay for the reconstruction of Lebanon. Stephen Harper sulked in Limasol and mulled these questions silently, far away from reporters who might have asked why he did not even bother to express outrage that Israel murdered eight Canadians during its “meausured” bombing of Beirut. Condoleezza and Rummy continued to make a new batch of chicken Sandwiches and Kool-Aid. At the end of the day, they all hoisted their glasses, drank the Kool-Aid and felt the unreality of the latest war recede into a starless night. They drank deeply and purple waves of moral certitude flowed like cool, clean water through their veins. We did the right thing, they insisted. It was a “measured” response, they added. We stayed on message, they cried. We did everything possible, they wondered? But resistance is futile, they slurrred, and took another swig of that most mysterious political Kool-Aid.