“And It’s 1-2-3, What Are We Fightin’ For?”

Last night I watched Truffaut’s “The 400 Blows.” Tonight I watched Johnny Knoxville’s “Jackass.” I’m finally starting to laugh again, after what feels like weeks of gloom and doom over this war with Iraq. Which doesn’t make me less anxious, entirely, or less concerned that The Project for a New American Century’s ‘Pax Americana’ isn’t gonna’ bite us (U.S.) in the ass. But my day-to-day has been a little less war obsessed.

In fact, spring has sprung in New York. It’s a magical time between the bleak, bitter gray of winter and the urine-soaked, humid of summer. The air is crisp. Flowers are blooming. It’s nice. It’s hopeful, optimistic. ‘Course, that could have something to do with looking forward to Vegas Saturday, being in the desert sun, seeing Wayne Newton” perform.

That said, I remain alarmed that things seem to be heating up with Syria. And who knows what Baghdad has in store. Or the “Arab Street.” And I keep looking around — at the new Subway sandwhich shop that opened on my corner, at “Jackass,” at “Blind Date” — and singing “And it’s one, two, three what are we fighting for?”

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