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Eight years and I don't recognize my country. If I declare my indignation I am un-American. Eight years and I celebrate my birthday with the memory of levees breaking; the population waiting on rooftops for America to rescue them. Eight years and I hear the condemnation of torture and terrorism while Guantanamo Bay lurks in the background with a hooded face. Eight years and friends who take a trip to Spain decide it is safer to say they come from Canada. Eight years and children continue to recite the Pledge of Allegiance while the bombs explode in Iraq. Eight years and I want my country back from the corporations who control it and the administration that has almost destroyed it. |