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I’ve had it. I can no longer read the news. Bombings. Bombings. Bombings. And War.
An idea: Let’s bomb Gaza with bread.
“Hah!” you say. Well, what else is working?
And kids, little kids, women, old folks, are dying by the hundreds. I can’t stand it any longer. I can’t turn on the news.
The situation is too simple for the military. It’s too simple for politicians. My tax dollars are going for bombs.
Bombs that kill kids. And women. And geezers like me who are just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And the bombs don’t care.
Load up a dozen, or, even better, a hundred, B-52 bombers. Load ‘em up with bread. Attach small parachutes to five-gallon jugs of water. We could even add doughnuts.
And chocolate. And better yet, milk.
Fly those B-52s to Gaza. Use those high-tech bombsights to find the highest population centers.
Drop the food. Come back home for more. Repeat until the Gazans beg us to stop. This nonsense has gone on long enough.
And then, just maybe, I’ll get a good night’s sleep.
Dick Hoyt
Lubec
