Now, I'm not too political, but it's worth noting that more of my countrymen (and women) have died in Iraq (2,974, at last count) than did in the Sept. 11, 2001 (2,973), attacks. Does the number mean anything? Well, if you're trying to weigh it against the political justification for entering Iraq, one might say that the two had nothing to do with one another, and if you're trying to build an argument about the need for us to withdrawal, I might support you.
But if you're me, it means that your brothers (and some dudes you knew in high school) have been deployed to the Middle East about a half a dozen times in the past five years, and you're more than a little (selfishly) thankful that they are not among the bodycount.
I am allergic to being too serious, but this hits home. Luck doesn't last forever, and as much as my family jokes about the boys entrepreneurially selling sex toys to their comrades in the war against terror, it is pretty fucking frightening to have two people you really care about repeatedly risking their lives for a cause that is so....opaque. Here's to a hope that in the new year, a miraculous solution to this whole conundrum will be birthed from the soil, just as the baby Jesus was delivered to the Virgin Mary. Uhhh...totally.
(Insert slogan shouting ['Bring them home! No war for oil!'] and yellow ribbons here.)