On Monday, I talked about some of the anti-Bush venom I’d heard in New York over the previous weekend. One particular noisy conversation, overheard whether I liked it or not (my fiancee and I were trying to have lunch a few feet away) was between a self-declared unemployed 30-ish programmer and an old retired guy who were drinking away their afternoons at a Village bar.
Most of it was standard-issue liar-crooked-moron blather, and unremarkable except for the volume. But then the younger guy started in on last year’s appropriation for operations in Iraq and Afghanistan:
“I mean, $86 billion? What the filth is that? What the hell is he doing spending all that money over there? We could be fillin’ potholes with that.”
I was very sorely tempted at that point to pull out my digital camera, page to this shot I’d snapped an hour earlier, and ask, “Hey, buddy, what’s wrong with this picture?”
Maybe a couple of things are… missing?
When a mass grave masquerading as a gigantic pothole is a couple of miles away?