What a Question!

Last night during our wee-hours pillow talk, Huple the Cat posed a serious question. Instead of the usual inquiries ("Have your seen my mouse thingy? Are my claws too dull?,") Huple asked, "What's up with Iran?" I admit I was not prepared for a 2am geopolitcal investigation instigated by an animal with a brain the size of a testical. On the other hand, if the C.I.A. and N.C.S. can do it, so can I.

"Well, little fella', " I began, "It's like this..."

The Argument for Iran.
As American gun owners and every Frenchman understands, nobody can tell you what to do. This is particularly true when a person perceives an imaginary or real threat. Currently Iran is bracketed east and west by an American presence in Afghanistan and Iraq. Had Iran overthrown the governments of Mexico and Canada and deployed hundreds of thousands of troops to establish an Islamic theocracy, would anyone blame the United States if it "nuked-up?" I doubt it. Considering recent shared history between the U.S. (The Great Satan) and Iran (Axis of Evil) it should not surprise that Iran would be looking in the bed stand drawer for a weapon. And why shouldn't they? Bellicose statements by the administration have pointed a finger at Iran claiming it the single greatest threat to peace. Having previously used the same finger on Afghanistan and Iraq, with dramatic results for the local population, it is no wonder that the government in Tehran is seeking any deterrent necessary to curb the rhetoric and to dissuade preemptive adventures. To the honest American, if your neighbors on both sides suffered a home invasion, would you be condemned if you purchased a piece? No, you have a responsibility to your family to protect them. The same can be said of the government of Iran.

I will offer an opposing view tomorrow.

Go to sleep, Huple.

Initial Offering

Greetings!
This space is devoted to items that smother me in the small hours of the morning. Actually, it is my new kitten loafing on my face at 3:30am which goads me to introspection. Nothing spurs speculative insomnia better than a mouth full of fur and years of guilt. I blame the kitten. And the animal pays. I drew a bulls-eye on the wall, and no matter the volume of purr or width of eyes, attempt to place the beast withing five feet of the target. Since my apartment is made of dry-wall the results are not as spectacular as I intend. However, frequently I miss wide and strike door-jam. Before you condemn me remember- I'm cat-putting in the dark.