Things tend to become somewhat philosophical when Enon and I stay up drinking whiskey. Kite was snoozing peacefully near the fire, and Skute had passed out sprawled like he’d fallen from an airplane. Enon and I were talking about theocracies, a topic that had been reached through association to the President’s assertion that radical Islamists were the same sort of fascists that embodied the likes of Hitler and others similar. Enon didn’t buy the fascist argument, and thinking about it, I really didn’t either.

“A theocratic society is not the same as Nazi Germany,” Enon said. “If we are going to label the Islamists that way,” he went on, “then perhaps we ought to take a look at ourselves.”

“How so?” I asked him, already half-knowing where he was going. I sipped from my shot glass while he composed the thought in his mind.

“That’s where we are headed right now,” he told me. “If you consider the influence that the religious right has on our political system, how anyone lately who does not buy into the current mindset is immediately labeled as unpatriotic and by the way godless.”

I could see it. The U.S. Government is run by a bunch of over-zealous red-neck Christians. No rationality about it any more. The politicians foster their votes from a community of under-educated grass-chewing crackers, not necessarily because they really believe in the party line, but because they have to in order to get reelected.

“Listen to the party line, Pancho,” he told me. “It’s all about terrorism. George Bush can do whatever the fuck he wants as long as he includes terrorism in his speeches and addresses. And if he decides that there isn’t enough terrorism to keep everybody in goose-stepping formation, all he has to do is make some.”

“Like invading Iraq,” I suggested.

“Exactly,” he said.

“Like the bumper poppy crop in Afghanistan,” I said. “The Taliban can afford to pay fighters nearly twice the salary that the Afghan army earns, and all the money comes from the opium trade.”

“Ninety-five percent of the opium in the world comes from Afghanistan,” Enon agreed, “and we had it in our power at one point to put a stop to it.”

Yeah, we did. I remember how wishy-washy the generals were about that right after we invaded the place. They were worried about “winning the hearts and minds”, (a term that really bothers me lately because I hear it way too much), of the Afghan people, and the farmers would complain if the army made them all stop growing poppies. They actually allowed it to continue because they were worried about the repercussions. And now the same poppies that we ignored are being used to pay the salaries of bombers and fighters. The Taliban doesn’t need donations from rich Saudi Arabs. They control the world’s supply of opium.

Seems to me an effective use of military force might be to torch all the poppy fields, but somehow that doesn’t get done. “What will the farmers do for a living if they can’t grow opium?” is the standard argument. Give them something else to do, or tell them all to fuck off. The real question is what the army will do if the Taliban fades away because they can’t support themselves. A big chunk of our Global War on Terror would vanish into the distance, and with it a big chunk of the Bush party line.

“Ahh, but we’ll always have Iraq,” I reassured Enon.

“Probably,” he agreed. “If not, I’m sure we’ll find something else to do.”

“Here’s to making terrorists,” I raised my glass.

“Here-here,” he toasted.