Happy 2020, Everybody. There have not been posts here in a long time. Not much to say, really. We do our bit for the rescued animals – Les Animaux Perdus, if you will – and try our best to stay away from The World. It’s a bad place after all…going there is like jumping into a whirlpool to rescue flailing, daredevils friends: it can be done but why? We will only be carried under along with the rest.
But, as you know, the World has a way of intruding. The latest intrusion at this end is the recent downing of the Ukrainian jet by the Iranians. About one-third of the 180 or so who died who are from our neck of the woods here just east of the Canadian Rockies. For posterity’s sake, for those who will be reading this years from now, let me offer a quick recap:
Iran (what used to be ancient Persia) and America (what used to be nothing much in particular but which has now grown strong) have been cheesing each off for decades. There are religious differences and, consequently, worldview differences but, by and large, they are very similar political entities in that, like most governments truth be told, they can be rather stupid. And deadly.
Recently, the Americans (or, at least, their current administrative head and his cronies) decided to kill an Iranian figure said to be very powerful in that country’s military, political, and less savoury actvities. He was Major General Qassem Suleimani, of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. At the time of his death he was commander of the Quds Force which engaged in, as the spooks say, extraterritorial military and clandestine operations. Especially, against American interests.
This naturally pissed off the Americans to no end. And so, on or around January 3, 2020 the Americans terminated the general and his travelling companions with a drone strike as they were motoring along a road in Iraq. Whether or not the Americans thought through the consequences of this killing is open to debate. As you know, we here at Sanctuary, tend to think most Bandar Log do not think much at all, much less try to anticipate the consequences of their actions.
Anyway, General Suleimani’s death resulted in a great hue and cry in Iran proper. Millions went out into the streets to protest, attend his state funeral, and generally make a Big Show. Whatever we may think of one Bandar Log state or another the fact is that given our experiences with them, these great demonstrations could’ve be predicted.
So, too, was the response by the Iranian government to the assassination of one of their favourite sons: they retaliated in kind with an aerial attack of their own. Namely, the launching of guided rockets to American military bases operating in Iraq.
Yes, yes, I know. It’s something THAT species has been doing since time immemorial. One tribe offends – or is offended by – another tribe. Whacking take place, followed by counter-whacking. It is all tedious but such is the nature of the Bandar Log.
Unfortunately, caught up in this imbroglio, was a commercial aircraft full of civilian innocents. It seems to have inadvertently been targeted by Iranian missile defense systems and blown up shortly after take off from nearby Tehran. All aboard perished. As several “experts” on such matters have observed, such is the nature of the fog of War: Innocents die.
Which of course is just more words coming from members of a species where words seem to mean increasingly little.
My point is, however, there is footage of the wreckage of that jet plane of innocents. Here it is here:
Now if you take a look at around 1:40 – 1:45, you will see my focus of today’s remarks. It is the charred but mostly intact figure of a pink equine. A little girl’s “horsey doll” as we used to say. That is to say: Yes, in the fog of war, the Bandar Log not only continue to kill themselves and each other but also their young. Still!
This is, of course, what some of our friends of the ancient Levant would call a “pesha” or “Mered”. It is an act of direct defiance of that which is Holy. Or what we would call a transgression of the Jungle Law.
I have nothing more to say on this matter, you Kits and Cubs, except to remind you – and myself – of what Old Baloo once said when I was of a certain age:
“We do not drink where the monkeys drink; we do not go where the monkeys go; we do not hunt where they hunt; we do not die where they die.”
That is the lesson for today.