Revenge of the Sith
A Defender of Daniel Okrent on Paul Krugman... Well, Half a Defender

The Medium Lobster Writes About Eggs and Omelettes

It's a wise crustacean. Is there a discount if you order it before 6?

Fafblog! the whole worlds only source for Fafblog.: sPerhaps, at this time, you may require some reassurance. Perhaps, if you are one of the handful of Americans not otherwise occupied with Amber Alerts and runaway brides and the curious sleepover habits of washed-up eighties pop stars, you may have accidentally happened upon a few bodies halfway across the world (Afwhatsistan? Bagrawho?), which may or may not have pricked whatever remains of a long-dormant and desensitized National Conscience. And you may be asking yourself what the point of all this has been, what has driven Americans halfway around the globe to sieze innocent men, beat their legs to pulp, and chain them to ceilings until they die.

Regrettable, yes, but let us remember that these two eggs, like the dozens before them, and the tens of thousands before them, were broken to make the greatest and worthiest of omelettes, the most succulent of breakfasttime generational commitments, the proudest and most visionary of truck stop slop. And when it is finished and served, to whomever it is served, will it not have been worth the mound of eggshells, the broken crockery, the shattered glass, the mountain of murdered cooks, the acres of burning kitchen, the unbroken stench of dead flesh? And if that omelette is never made, won't the idea of the omelette - finer and purer and more pristine than the thing itself - have been worth them all, in the end?

We must remember that for each complete failure the media reports - the innocents tortured to death without reason - there are hundreds of mere semi-failures we can never know about for reasons of vital national security, when the torture and murder of innocents stops a treacherous ticking bomb. Indeed, we must believe - no, assume - that with each new horror a new blow is struck for freedom, that with every new atrocity a fresh-painted Iraqi school blooms like a rose bud in spring.

The day will come when the justice of this is made manifest, when these heaps of corpses will be vindicated as unquestionably righteous. That day is ahead of us, a bright light at the end of this dark tunnel. Can you see it growing closer, brighter, louder? Victory is bearing down on us with the sound of thunder.