The purpose of the noise is distraction. Noise that overwhelms our senses. Noise that is ridiculous or incomprehensible; noise that insults. Noise that blathers or lathers our ears so full of soap that no clear sounds can make it through the canal.
Noise. Like the constant humming of drones circling above our heads. Circling and circling and making bothersome, tiresome noise. Think through the noise? But you can’t. Did you live through the horns in Ottawa?
Except for us in Canada, the drones don’t kill. The explosions in the sky are for fun. The fireworks that come every Tuesday night or Thursday night or Saturday night when Les Capitoles win a game. The noise — the stoccato of the fireworks or the buzzing of the drones — they’re sounds of life. The fireworks are for fun and the drones are for photos and we’re celebrating and enjoying that it’s no longer so hot. And that summer is almost over.
But that the noise is good, is luck. The luck is that we live here, and not there. Not where the sound of drones is constant and is a harbinger of death. Not like in Tammun this past week, where an Israeli drone murdered four people. Who was the drone operator? What did he see? Did he see the face of surprise looking up past the constant noise of occupation at his camera? The noise of the settler raids, the cries of desperation in the West Bank. (more...)
The cacophony of war cheerleading
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