October 10, 2009

I sent this to Obama this morning. . .

There had to be one man who said yes.  Somebody had to agree to captain the ship.  She had sprung a hundred leaks; she was loaded to the water line with crime, ignorance, poverty.  Was that a time, do you think, for playing with words like yes or no?  You grab the wheel, you right the ship in the face of a mountain of water.  You shout an order, and if one man refuses to obey, you shoot straight into the mob.  Into the mob, I say!  The thing that drops when you shoot may be someone who poured you a drink the night before; but it has no name.  And you, braced at the wheel, you have no name, either.  Nothing has a name—except the ship, and the storm.
                        ~from Antigone

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