Will Andrew Moonen be charged with Murder at Last?

Those of us who wonder if Andrew Moonen of Blackwater is ever going to be charged with the Murder of Raheem Khalif got some news, today – amazing news. The FBI is going to investigate! 15 months after the murder. Good job, you bloodhounds of justice! Now, if Andrew Moonen is actually charged, surely Margaret Scobey, the State Department officer who prepared Moonen’s flight and paid him a tidy sum, who administered the cleaning of State Department records concerning his crime, Margaret Scobey, his assistant, his help, his staff and his rod, Margaret Scobey of the State Department who is still employed, and is nominated as our Ambassador to Egypt, which will surely give Congress a chance to evade its duty and shame us still more deeply – oh, surely there is no way to avoid bringing her to justice unless justice stops at the powerful, unless the clique of kleptocrats that run us has changed the rules to make themselves not only invulnerable to charges of treason, to fraud, but even to murder. Surely the investigation should reach deep, oh very deep, into the bowels of the collaboration between the State Department and that criminal organization, Blackwater, uncovering every email, every message, every plotted coverup and stonewalling, until we have set before the world’s eyes at least a part of the shame of this past eight years, ripped it out from the womb of its monstrous mother, that stew of in-dealing drenched with the blood of Iraqi children.

Oh, that I could bring down the criminal regime of the Great Fly:

What glorious hand gave Samson his deaths wound?
Mess. Unwounded of his enemies he fell.
Man. Wearied with slaughter then or how? explain.
Mess. By his own hands.
Man. Self-violence? what cause
Brought him so soon at variance with himself
Among his foes?
Mess. Inevitable cause
At once both to destroy and be destroy'd;
The Edifice where all were met to see him
Upon thir heads and on his own he pull'd
Man. O lastly over-strong against thy self!
A dreadful way thou took'st to thy revenge.
More than anough we know; but while things yet
Are in confusion, give us if thou canst,
Eye-witness of what first or last was done,
Relation more particular and distinct.
Mess. Occasions drew me early to this City,
And as the gates I enter'd with Sun-rise,
The morning Trumpets Festival proclaim'd
Through each high street: little I had dispatch't
When all abroad was rumour'd that this day
Samson should be brought forth to shew the people
Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games;
I sorrow'd at his captive state, but minded
Not to be absent at that spectacle.
The building was a spacious Theatre
Half round on two main Pillars vaulted high,
With seats where all the Lords and each degree
Of sort, might sit in order to behold,
The other side was op'n, where the throng
On banks and scaffolds under Skie might stand;
I among these aloof obscurely stood.
The Feast and noon grew high, and Sacrifice
Had fill'd thir hearts with mirth, high chear, & wine,
When to thir sports they turn'd. Immediately
Was Samson as a public servant brought,
In thir state Livery clad; before him Pipes
And Timbrels, on each side went armed guards,
Both horse and foot before him and behind
Archers, and Slingers, Cataphracts and Spears.
At sight of him the people with a shout
Rifted the Air clamouring thir god with praise,
Who had made thir dreadful enemy thir thrall.
He patient but undaunted where they led him,
Came to the place, and what was set before him
Which without help of eye, might be assay'd,
To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still perform'd
All with incredible, stupendious force,
None daring to appear Antagonist.
At length for intermission sake they led him
Between the pillars; he his guide requested
(For so from such as nearer stood we heard)
As over-tir'd to let him lean a while
With both his arms on those two massie Pillars
That to the arched roof gave main support.
He unsuspitious led him;-which when Samson
Felt in his arms, with head a while enclin'd,
And eyes fast fixt he stood, as one who pray'd,
Or some great matter in his mind revolv'd.
At last with head erect thus cryed aloud,
Hitherto, Lords, what your commands impos'd
I have perform'd, as reason was, obeying,
Not without wonder or delight beheld.
Now of my own accord such other tryal
I mean to shew you of my strength, yet greater;
As with amaze shall strike all who behold.
This utter'd, straining all his nerves he bow'd,
As with the force of winds and waters pent,
When Mountains tremble, those two massie Pillars
With horrible convulsion to and fro,
He tugg'd, he shook, till down thy came and drew
The whole roof after them, with burst of thunder
Lords, Ladies, Captains, Councellors, or Priests,
Thir choice nobility and flower, not only
Of this but each Philistian City round
Met from all parts to solemnize this Feast.


Dominic said…
Milton! Thou should'st be living at this hour, etc.

Come to think of it, "a fen of stagnant waters" would make a good blog tagline...
roger said…
We don't have Milton, but we do have... uh, I can't think of anybody. The concentrated ferocity of an indignation that takes the measure of empire and feels itself to be fully equal to it - which happens when you are God's right hand - well, that's a little lacking. Sad, isn't it.