We have seen the Star

By Tarzana Joe            

As we approach the morning                                        

When we celebrate Christ’s birth                                 

It’s good to think a moment                                         

Of the gift he brought to earth                                       

For the earth holds good and evil                                             

In a constant warring strife       

And to renew creation                                                 

It required a new life                

Our mighty God and Father                                         

To see the battle won                                                   

Though he knew what must befall him                           

Offered us his Son.      

Said the heralds in the heavens                         

As the shepherds heard them then                                

“May Peace be always with you                                   

And on earth, good will to men.”                                  

And His life was an example                                        

To those that wonder why

To defeat the clouds of darkness

An innocent may die.

All praise and all thanksgiving                           

To a God who can forgive                                           

Who gave his only son                                     

So that all of us might live         

November3, 2006

Poem of the Day - A little advice for Senator Kerry

Benefit of the Doubt

By Tarzana Joe

SOME FOLKS HAVE EARNED OUR TRUSTING

BY WHAT THEY’VE SAID AND DONE

THOUGH IN THEIR HEARTS, THEY’RE LUSTING

THEY BATTLE LIKE A NUN

THEY LIVE WHAT THEY BELIEVE IN

AND TRY TO DO THEIR BEST

KNOW GIVIN’ TOPS RECEIVIN’

AND TURN TO GREET THE TEST

AT EASTER, THEY’RE FORGIVING

AT CHRISTMAS, THEY DON’T POUT

THEY’VE EARNED BY HOW THEY’RE LIVING

THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT

WE ALL HAVE IMPERFECTIONS

AND HOPE WHEN THEY COME OUT

THE WORLD, UPON REFLECTION

GIVESUS THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT

IF YOU WANT CONSIDERATION

WHEN SOMETHING YOU HAVE DONE

REQUIRES…INTERPRETATION

TAKE THIS ADVICE…MY SON

DON’T BRAG YOU VOTED FOR IT

BEFORE YOU CHANGED YOU MIND

REACTION TO SUCH STATEMENTS

IS BOUND TO BE UNKIND.

IF YOU REALLY WANT THE PEOPLE

TO KNOW WHICH SIDE YOU’RE ON

DON’T SAY YOUR BAND OF BROTHERS

WERE KIN TO GENGHIS KAHN

DON’T ACCEPT THE STATE’S PROTECTION

EVERYWHERE YOU GO

THEN CURSE THE SECRET SERVICE

WHEN YOU FALL IN THE SNOW

DON’T MUDDLE EVERY MESSAGE

WITH IFS AND BUTS AND ORS

DON’T TOSS MEDALS OVER FENCES

THEN SAY THEY WEREN’T YOURS

BACKBONE IS A VIRTUE

THAT PUTS YOUR FOES TO ROUT

FIND ONE

AND EVEN YOU MIGHT EARN

THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT

October 27, 2006

The Poem of the Day

Energizing the Base

By Tarzana Joe

There are some with deep convictions

Making dark and dire predictions

And they’re giving them full throat

They’ve convinced the righteous rightists

That we haven’t got the slightest

And our prospects are remote

They predict that just a few states

Will be left amid the blue states

As we watch Pelosi gloat

Don’t let those prophets be fulfilled

‘cause they’re going to get us killed

And that’s such a sour note

If you’re filled with such chagrining

That the leftists mightl be winning

Then I have the antidote

Get out and vote

Recall that the founding brothers

Left the governing to others

Saying, and I quote

Get out and vote

Take a bus or take a stallion

Take a bud or a battalion

Go by buggy or by boat

Get out and vote

So it you want to save the nation

Keep it tuned in to this station

Here’s the plan that we promote

Get out and vote.

Our last poem:

The poem of the day...

Yes, Virginia

By Tarzana Joe

A girl was told quite long ago

“If you see it in The Sun, it’s so."

Then, many minds were set like flint

It must be truth if it’s in print

Now years have passed since she inquired

And many editors retired

With reputations gone to dust

Destroying what was left of trust

Now, none will swear that it’s a cinch

There’s any truth per column-inch

And minds that once were set in stone

Are forced to live on sight alone

They won’t accept a thing, albeit

True, unless they really see it

And not just see it, vis a vis

They have to see it on TV

Well, it’s instructive to reflect

On years of waver and neglect

And think on our collective trauma

By tuning in a docudrama

But we don’t need a film to do it

My friends, you and I lived through it

We cried, we prayed, we gaped, we swore

We knew, that day, we had a war

So I don’t need no TV show

To tell me what I need to know

For truth comes blazing like a gun

When you see it in the sun.

September 1, 2006

As I mentioned on the show today, the Towe Auto Museum is sponsoring their third annual Automotive Poetry contest for poems in anyway related to motorized person land transportation.  The deadline for entries is 11/10/06 and first prize is 200.00

For more information visit http://www.toweautomuseum.org/

August 6, 2006

There is a debate going on between Hugh Hewitt and Andrew Sullivan over the term "Christianist" and a renewed debate about Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" in light of Mel's drunken anti-semetic rant.  Here, then is my two cents sent in an e-mail to Andrew Sullivan

Mr. Sullivan:

Full disclosure:  I am a regular guest on the Hugh Hewitt Show (albeit reading a weekly poem).

Hugh can defend himself.  Mel can defend himself.  He's going to have to.  But sometimes I can't help myself.  I have to join in.

It's only a movie.  Hollywood has produced many movies with left-wing agendas.  The Cider House Rules: Abortion is a beautiful and noble thing.  Titles too numerous to mention:  The military can not be trusted.  Titles too numerous to mention:  Openly religious people can not be trusted.  But if I complain I am told, "It's just a movie.  Don't go see it." 

What, then, makes "The Passion" more than a movie?  Its enemies. 

The Sunday before Easter every year The Passion is read in Roman Catholic churches.  The priest plays Christ.  The lector narrates.  Some silver-throated parishioner plays all the apostles.  And the congregation plays the crowd that shouts, "Crucify him."  Us.  The congregation.  We  play the Jews.  We are the Jews, turning away from Christ still and every day.  Christ died for all our sins.  The sins of his Jewish brothers and the sins I commit on the freeway on my way to work.  That's what listening to The Passion reminds us every year and what the movie did in a much more vivid way.  If I had been directing it, I might have cut away to a contemporarily-dressed rainbow-ethnic crowd shouting "Crucify him!" to make that point.  But I didn't have that job.

The Catholic Church, for all of its faults, is not still in the Middle Ages regarding "the Jews".

"Christianists" if they exist were born out of a reaction to the pro-choice position:  "Religion has no place in politics.  As your opposition to abortion comes from your religious faith, your opinion has no place in politics.  So shut up."  Not gonna happen.  Of course, this position ignores the fact that most law comes out of notions born from religious concepts.  I think there are laws against stealing, murder and even swearing in many if not all jurisdictions. 

I oppose abortion not because the Pope says I should but because it seems gruesome to me.  It seems inhuman to stop a developing life.  I remember thinking that instinctively when I first heard the word defined.  I didn't go ask a priest.

Here's a test for you.  Pretend you have to explain why we shouldn't steal to an eight-year old.  Then pretend to explain what abortion is and why we must protect it to the same eight-year old.

People with religious beliefs are not excluded from the political debate.  The separation of church and state (whatever that ultimately means) certainly does not mean that church-going people must check their religion at the voting booth door (or the door to the hall where they are serving the rubber chicken dinner).  Sorry.  

I don't particularly like candidates who run on their religion.  I just don't trust them to represent an entire faith.  They're human after all and bound to fall and open faith to mockery.   That could be harsh but, well, maybe I've just seen too many movies.

I hope you and Hugh work this thing out between you.

Best,

Tarzana Joe

PS:  I am politically naive.  I'm just a poet.  Please explain the political benefits of "The Passion of the Christ".  Please.

August 4, 2006

When Hugh Hewitt asked Martin Peretz, a Democrat, if he wanted Democrats to win House and Senate majorities in the next election, he honestly and with self-admitted cowardice, refused to answer.  Here then.is…

A Cowardly Refusal to Answer

Or A Serious Democrat’s Lament

By Tarzana Joe

For years, I served my party’s goals

Walked precincts over red hot coals

Whispered when I was youthful

Spoke out when it was truthful

Shouted as I got bolder

Spoke eloquent when I was older

Stuffed envelopes with grey-haired ladies

And marched when it was hot as Hades

Ate rubber chicken every night

Because I knew that WE were right

Did everything and all I could for

I believed what my party stood for

Now as the next election looms

I wander through the smoke-filled rooms

And think above the growing din

Do I really want these guys to win?

Are candidates I’ll put in power

Worthy of this desperate hour?

Who like drunkards on a binge

Got cosy with the nutter fringe

And who, before the job is done

Believe we ought to cut and run?

Whose speeches, 'neath a slick facade

Sound just like Ahmadinejad

(I think we may have 'last hurrahed')

Alas, I think my side is filled

With folks who’re going to get us killed

And so when asked whom I would choose

To speak, I cowardly refuse

At last, all I can say is that

It’s tough to be a Democrat.

Here's July's poem...inspired by Generalissimo Duane, whose battlecry for the House/Senate Committee is "Just give us the fence!"

The Fence

By Tarzana Joe

Congresspersons, gals and guys

Exalt the art of compromise

They sit, they talk, they schmooze, they chat.

You give me this.  I’ll give you that

And usually what they intended.

Comes out horribly amended.

I have it from the best advisers

That stars weren’t built by compromisers

And though I know that in my heart

I’ve decided now to do my part

For on the issues of the border

A compromise must be in order

So let the give and take commence

Take what you want

Just give us the fence

Take amnesty for all transgressions

Take all our worldly possessions

Use parchment for your documents

Just give us the fence

Take the Yankees to Mexico City

Take the entire Senate Judiciary Committee

We bow to your omnipotence

Just give us the fence

Take every “mench” and every “schnorrer”

Take Michael Chertoff’s hair restorer

Take every Pez we can dispense

Just give us the fence

We’ll give up sections of Ohio

And celebrate Cinco de Mayo

Capitulate, for all intents

Just give us the fence

Take all our cheese

From Brie to Stilton

Take Paris, France, Take Paris Hilton

Take everything and take it hence

Just give us the fence

Take both the tiny and immense

Just give us the fence

Take both the passive and intense

Just give us the fence

Take both the fluffy and the dense

Just give us the fence

Take heart, take flight or even umbrage

Free yourself from all emcumbrage

What do we ask for recompense?

Just give us the fence!

The poem of the day in honor of Hugh Hewitt's 50th is "The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot.  Go find it on the web...you're grown men and women.  I can't do everything for you.  Besides, I am no good at links.

My poem, which proves that I don't get Eliot is

Reflections at 36

by Tarzana Joe

I am the same age that I have always been

A flash of fading light to live in

Experience fixed my memory's pin

I am the same age that I have always been

and, of course...

Reflections at 48

by Tarzana Joe

I am the same age that I have always been

A flash of fading light to live in

Experience fixed my memory's pin

I am the same age that I have always been

I will keep writing this poem just as long as I can.  Happy Birthday, Hugh.

"You're welcome," to all those romance-challenged men and women who wrote asking for Valentine's Day poems.  I hope they all worked out for you.  Here are a few of the choice poems from this year's poem marathon.

One man wrote me that his wife's nickname is Smilodon (the Sabre-tooth cat and California State fossill).  Yikes!  Here's the poem

My Darling Smilodon   

Animalia Chordata

Oh! Mamalia Carnivora

Such is the stunning nickname

Of my fabulous signora

Oh, she makes my heart a-flutter

And she makes my spirit fly

Sweet Felidae Machairodontinae

And if she ever left me

I’d cry “Whither have thou wentist?”

And quickly place a call to 1-800-Dentist

For her smile is well known to the orthodontical profession

And my favorite part about her

If I may make a confession

And though she takes her name

from the California Fossil

My love for my sweet Jean

is nothing but colossal.

Another lover told me he and his dear ride bicycles together all the time.  Their poem:

Just a Bicycle Built for Two

In the morning, we wake up and I kiss you

You grab the water and I pull on my riding clothes.

I kiss you again.  We’ve got a big ride ahead of us.

We go together side by side

Or sometimes in a row.

And when we push the pedals forward

The chain moves the wheels

And the wheels move the tires and the tires…

(just a few people know this)

but the pressure of our turning tires against the earth

Is what keeps the planet spinning

Kiss me again

Our love makes the world go ‘round.

Here's one for a couple who found each other on the Internet:

Consider the points upon a line

The blades of grass in the field

The grey forever of the electric brain

And you must conclude

We are together not by chance

(the laws of chance say that we would never meet)

But because it was meant to be

Oh joy!  To search for your place in the universe…

And find it.

And finally, a poem for a man who writes love poems to his wife all the time, but was seeking professional assistance...

I’ve written many poems for you

(may I make a confessional?)

Because they were not worthy

I brought in a professional

For you deserve a Shakespeare

And a mansion by Palladio

But I don’t know them so I got

The guy who’s on the radio

I told him all your virtues

My girl with Big Brown Eyes

I told him all about you

But he said they must be lies

He said he knew the female

As many poets do

And all the ladies that he’d met?

There wasn’t one like you

No one with so much sweetness

No one with form so fine

And if I wouldn’t tell the truth

He wouldn’t write a line

Then I showed him your picture

Then I showed him my heart

I saw that poet shed a tear

Pick up him pen, and start

You’re everything I told him

You’re everything and more

The sunshine in my smile

The woman I adore.

Tis the second new poem of the new year...Here's the column.., a little piece by Joel Stein explaining, in words that prove that no heavy lifting or serious thinking was involved in the forming of his opinions, why he doesn't support the troops.  He writes that he doesn't support our troops because he doesn't support their war.  He refuses to be a hypocrite.  Good for him.

http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/opinion/la-oe-stein24jan24,1,9515.column?ctrack=1&cset=true

And here's the reply....

No Parades

Or

I  Don’t  Support  Joel Stein  by Tarzana Joe

I don’t support our reporters

The gentlemen of the press

A coven of wily distorters

About whom I couldn’t care less.

Oh, I’m sure that I’d like them as people

They seem gutsy, and eager, and slick

But to hang out with them for an hour?

Even Kevin Trudeau would get sick!

As the cause for which they are fighting

That our country is evil and wrong

And that terror is kind of exciting

I just won’t be singing that song

When they signed on at old Alma Mater

And were looking for something to do

I am sure that the faculty told them

They’d be backing the noble and true.

Then they sat them all down in a chorus

Imagine the rot they were fed

Go conquer opinion before us

The blind urging on the misled.

I sympathize with these poor fellows

Who took up the pen like an axe

Who go out to defend the agenda

And won’t be deterred by the facts

But when you volunteer for the press corps

And walk the political beat

You become just one more of the “yes” corps

A tool of the liberal elite.

So please don’t go on pretending

As you rise to your desk every morn

The righteous you won’t be defending

Like the rights of the guiltless unborn

Now I’m deeply concerned for their future

So here are some things I propose

Hospitals, pensions, mental health

And a course in remedial prose.

Tis the first new poem of the new year...

Q&A

by Tarzana Joe

Welcome Judge, your honor

To our little tete a tete

We’re really pleased to have you

On hand with us today

I have several thousand questions

That I want to put to you

So that if you join the SCOTUS

I’ll know what you will do

My questions are important

Listen—and you’ll find--

That every word I utter

Reveals what’s in your mind

I’ve been thinking since I met you

Of some hypotheticals  to test

So the folks who watch on C-span

Would see me at my best

And frankly I’m just puzzled

By the answers that I’ve heard

I’ve been speaking for an hour

And you haven’t said a word

I hope you don’t mind me having

Um, having my little say

But to use a baseball analogy

Rome wasn’t built in a day

Now let’s get down to business

The public needs to know

On every vital issue

Which way your vote will go.

I’ve devised a tricky question

From which my genius you’ll infer

I see your wife behind you

When did you stop beating her?

Heh-heh, I thought that I could trap you

But you wouldn’t take the bait

I thought that you might drop your guard

While I pontificate

And I’m frankly disappointed

By the way you’ve kept your head

And I don’t believe a word of

Everything you haven’t said.

Don’t think that you’ve convinced me

Don’t think that it’s been fun

Thank you judge for coming

I see my time is done.

Christmas poetry...

Christmas Comes

By Tarzana Joey and Tarzana Joe

Soft as snow

Christmas comes

Gentle, meek, and slow

Christmas comes

Noble as a knight

Perfect as the Light

Humbling as a height

Christmas comes

Grand in dandy clothes

Christmas comes

Joyous as a rose

Christmas comes

Brighter than a fire

Finer than a choir

Higher than the tallest spire

Christmas comes

Awesome as the sun

Christmas day

A new world has begun

Christmas may

Grant me what I need

Conquer all I fear

And may the Christmas song

The noble night

The joyous rose

The humbling height

Stay with us

Until the snow falls softly

Again next year.

Here's the poem of the week for 12/16/05.  Sorry for the delay in posting it...

We have seen the Star

By Tarzana Joe            

As we approach the morning                                        

When we celebrate Christ’s birth                                 

It’s good to think a moment                                         

Of the gift he brought to earth                                       

For the earth holds good and evil                                             

In a constant warring strife       

And to renew creation                                                 

It required a new life                

Our mighty God and Father                                         

To see the battle won                                                   

Though he knew what must befall him                           

Offered us his Son.      

Said the heralds in the heavens                         

As the shepherds heard them then                                

“May Peace be always with you                                   

And on earth, good will to men.”                                  

And His life was an example                                        

To those that wonder why

To defeat the clouds of darkness

An innocent may die.

All praise and all thanksgiving                           

To a God who can forgive                                           

Who gave his only son                                     

So that all of us might live                                              .

As we approach the dawning

Of democracy’s new land

It’s good to think a moment

Of the ones who took a stand

For the powers of good and evil

Now contend for a new nation

And it requires a commitment

To reconsecrate creation

Oh, how like God the Father

Are the mothers of this day

Who send their sons and daughters

On this bright but dangerous way

And a new star in the heavens

Shines as witness to this birth

Good will is due to all men

And to all men, peace on earth

And their lives are an example                                      

To those that wonder why

To defeat the clouds of darkness

The innocent may die.

All praise and all thanksgiving

To the brave who cross the sea

Who freely give their own lives

So that others might be free.

(c) 2005 by Tarzana Joe (http://www.tarzanajoe.com/)

LOVE LASTS A LIFETIME, SO THE SAGES SAY - BUT TREAT IT GENTLY, OH MY FRIEND, FOR A LIFETIME CAN LAST BUT A DAY."

I was charged by Mr. Hewitt to come up with a poem about courage and there are some great ones.  But the one I read on the air is as follows:  Courage, as Dan Rahter knows, is for the long haul.  I have also included some of the other "courage" poems I found in my wanderings....

The Abnormal Is Not Courage

by Jack Gilbert  

The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German

Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,

A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.

And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question

The bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion.

Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best.

It was impossib1e, and with form. They rode in sunlight,

Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.

Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.

The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.

It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse,

And the failure to sustain even small kindness.

Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.

Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.

Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.

Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.

The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.

The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.

Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,

Not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty

That is of many days. Steady and clear.

It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.

Jack Gilbert 

Courage

It is in the small things we see it.

The child's first step,

as awesome as an earthquake.

The first time you rode a bike,

wallowing up the sidewalk.

The first spanking when your heart

went on a journey all alone.

When they called you crybaby

or poor or fatty or crazy

and made you into an alien,

you drank their acid

and concealed it.

Later,

if you faced the death of bombs and bullets

you did not do it with a banner,

you did it with only a hat to

comver your heart.

You did not fondle the weakness inside you

though it was there.

Your courage was a small coal

that you kept swallowing.

If your buddy saved you

and died himself in so doing,

then his courage was not courage,

it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,

if you have endured a great despair,

then you did it alone,

getting a transfusion from the fire,

picking the scabs off your heart,

then wringing it out like a sock.

Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,

you gave it a back rub

and then you covered it with a blanket

and after it had slept a while

it woke to the wings of the roses

and was transformed.

Later,

when you face old age and its natural conclusion

your courage will still be shown in the little ways,

each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,

those you love will live in a fever of love,

and you'll bargain with the calendar

and at the last moment

when death opens the back door

you'll put on your carpet slippers

and stride out.

Jeffrey McDaniel

Courage

Courage is the brave-heart soldier, in the face of death

A hero to the rescue, gives someone dying their breath

Heroes are born with courage, no matter what the cost

They risk their own lives, to see another is not lost

Heroes have plunged cold water, covered in frozen ice

To save someone drowning, without thinking twice

Or walk into an inferno, to save someone from the smoke

Scale down a mountain, to mend someone who broke

When there's disaster, heroes save people from the flood

In the time of war or violence, they give up their blood

Courage is in the parent, that gives love their all

Protects their children, the problem big or small

It takes courage, every time a peace officer makes a stop

A mountain climber, who makes it to the top

Courage is in the teacher, whose students never fail

For the sailor, when the wind comes named gale

People making a stand, no matter what the cause

They do it everyday, and do it without applause 

Courage

You know you can fail

And yet not a failure be.

When a leaf falls,

It does not kill a tree.

Robert L. Laumeyer

Robert Graves - To Lucasta on Going to the War - For the Fourth Time 

It doesn’t matter what’s the cause,

What wrong they say we’re righting,

A curse for treaties, bonds and laws,

When we’re to do the fighting!

And since we lads are proud and true,

What else remains to do?

Lucasta, when to France your man

Returns his fourth time, hating war,

Yet laughs as calmly as he can

And flings an oath, but says no more,

That is not courage, that’s not fear—

Lucasta he’s a Fusilier,

And his pride sends him here.

Let statesmen bluster, bark and bray,

And so decide who started

This bloody war, and who’s to pay,

But he must be stout-hearted,

Must sit and stake with quiet breath,

Playing at cards with Death.

Don’t plume yourself he fights for you;

It is no courage, love, or hate,

But let us do the things we do;

It’s pride that makes the heart be great;

It is not anger, no, nor fear—

Lucasta he’s a Fusilier,

And his pride keeps him here.

JUST A THOUGHT...

Consider  the artist who stumbles upon a composition that works and works again (and again) or a comedian who comes up with a catch phase on which to build a career

(“…you might be a redneck.”  “I don’t get no respect, no respect at all”).  The rest of us can only look on in wonder as the fortunate one slowly tears off small pieces of the golden ticket and lives off a single brilliant idea like the eccentric British noble who gets a substantial annual income from the interest on the family nestegg.  It’s easy to be jealous (to the verge of dislike) of such a person.  There, but for the one idea, go I.  Nevertheless, I confess, I don’t hate such celebrities because, after all, they did have that one moment of genius.

What I truly despise is the person who doesn’t appreciate his or her own good fortune in a world where so few rise.  There’s the millionaire athlete who claims he gets no respect (and in case you are thinking I might be a redneck, I was thinking about my own paisano, Mike Piazza).  There’s the movie star who won’t talk to the press.  And there’s the attractive, successful woman who laments how horrible the world is for women.

And even though the book is written with a nudge and a wink, I find my stomach turning as I consider Maureen Dowd’s book “Are Men Necessary?”  What really sickens me is the thought of Ms. Dowd speaking to a hotel ballroom full of women (including my dear mother, beloved wife, and respected female friends) and listening to them all laugh at the implication that a seaweed wrap or a new hat is more important, pleasing and satisfying than me…I mean men!

Here in my black hole of despair, when I turn to the dark side, I often come upon a moment of insight.  Alas, while important, satisfying, and pleasing, this insight will not afford me an annual income.  Nevertheless, here it is.  The entire male - female “problem” and the difference between the genders can be understood when you accept the fact that no man would ever entertain the question, let alone write a book titled, “Are Women Necessary?”

--TJ

The poem of the day for Verterans' Day is a poem that may, at first, seem irreverent.  But it reminds us that not so very long ago every American was either in service or had a mother, father, sister, or brother that was in service.  Now, for many or us, our only experience of war comes from movies.  And that, my friends, is dangerous.