In the old Westerns the Injuns would, with expressions of anger, disgust and sadness at the obvious stupidity of the whites and their continuous double dealing, say, “He speaks with a forked tongue.” Now, while making no comparisons between sitting presidents and squatting demons the term “a forked tongue”, and its close cousin “speaking from both sides of his mouth, does conjure unwelcome notions and sad memories, paint an ugly pictures of avoidable tragedies. What must one do to be rid of such unwholesome thoughts?
You are probably wondering why the little musing above. From among the very many stories which one may choose I offer this one.
This latest example speaks of one who sneaks away in the middle of the night to fly across the globe and creep before the sun rises into the besieged city, sign something that pledges to leave and to stay at the same time, promises…like someone we once one heard promise?…this war is over and then fly home to fanfares and trumpets, proclaiming…like someone we have heard before?…the equivalent of peace in our time.
Oh, the cynic will say, “All of them do that.” Let them say it. They are probably right. The squatting demon says it, too. And, he knows, that as long as enough fools listen and “Hope” where hope is vain, and trust where trust is poison, he will have so much fun.