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The news is on the television behind me and the newscaster, a calm young guy in front of the White House logo has told us that the President of the United States appears to have gone to bed. Word has it that the President of the United States goes to bed around 10 pm every night and gets up early, refreshed from his good night's sleep. The newscaster tells me that tonight, it's business as usual for the President of the United States and he's gone to bed.
We've invaded Iraq, Peter Jennings and his colleagues are speculating on whether an aggressive cruise missile bombing of a Baghdad compound has killed Saddam Hussein, and the President of the United States has gone to bed.
Many of us are attempting to go about our business as usual. I managed to get up and cross the bridge with my carpool mates and I didn't even forget my lunch. In spite of the fact that I have a CNN cable feed in my office at work, I did manage to get a few hours of real work done today, though not before confessing to my manager that I'm suffering from war-related attention deficit disorder. In spite of the fact that the US is on a "high orange" terror alert, I managed to walk around my neighborhood without a Kevlar vest. In spite of the fact that the center of my city is a mass of rioting anti-war protestors, I managed to meet a friend for dinner. In spite of all the events that are unfolding before our eyes in real time, the President of the United States has gone to bed.
The television shows me endless footage from Kuwait. Various newscasters point out the sirens that are followed by the sound of the all clear. Soldiers in gas masks sit waiting in tanks and bunkers and the newscaster's muffled voices come to me from underneath helmets and from behind gas masks. The television also tells me about a helicopter that's gone down, killing a number of soldiers. Across the bottom of the screen scroll the numbers of soldiers called up from bases in my home state. A hundred from here, another two hundred from there, a division from up north, the entire population of the base east of the mountains. The number of soldiers shipping out to fight scrolls across the screen after the President of the United States has gone to bed.
On the Internet, websites and blogs and news services update their graphics and maps and slide shows. I flip through an interactive media report about British soldiers moving in to Basra. RealMedia shows me a video of bombs over Kuwait City. My local news channel's site shows me web cam photos of the plaza downtown where police are trying to bring order to the raucous anti-war protest. A flash animation shows me the bombing of the Ministry of Planning in the center of Baghdad. All sources assure me that the 'shock and awe' campaign has not yet been implemented. All this information becomes available after the President of the United States has gone to bed.
A self-identified pagan admits to a moment of quiet prayer for the men who drive this war in hopes that his prayer will help them find their humanity. A former coworker tells a story about a colleague who tries to explain the concepts of war and hope to his small children. A neighbor invites all of her Jewish friends to attend a community church service focused on peace. A clerk at a convenience store shakes her head upon seeing a customer's newspaper, sharing her fears out loud with strangers. But the President of the United States has gone to bed.
Out of curiosity, I type "sleep" in to my search engine. I find this by Homer: A councilor ought not to sleep the whole night through, a man to whom the populace is entrusted, and who has many responsibilities. I also found this by George Orwell: We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm. I found an article about how Gulf War veterans - the first Gulf War, that is - suffer from sleep disorders. The lights are out at the White House because the President of the United States has gone to bed.
I am full of emotion about the war. I am deeply disappointed with the Congress that handed over the War Powers Act. I'm frustrated by the lack of impact the voice of dissent has had on the shape of American policy. I'm outraged by accusations that being against the war means being against America. I'm saddened by the environmental damage that burning oil has only begun to cause. I'm heartbroken by the loss of innocent lives in Iraq and by the loss of the lives of soldiers. But more than anything, I'm tired. I'm tired of having the kind of President who works for war, creates a war of his own design, and then, to top it all off, sleeps through it.
When I turn on the radio because I can not sleep, the words shock and awe are repeated. Shock and awe. We will use shock and awe to defeat Iraq's evil regime. Shock and awe. We will visit upon them a campaign of shock and awe, they will have never seen the like. Shock and awe. I lie awake in shock over the state we have come to and in awe of the President of the United States' crystal clear conscience. Why? Because on this night of war, the President of the United States has gone to bed.
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