tell

recalling fondly some heady days of not so yore, the high dudgeon unleashed when iran detained those three yank hikers. good times.

three young americans chose, oddly enough, to go hiking in a war zone, apparently because their are "talented" and "fiercely intellectual." yanks are warned -- buncha times -- by the Iraqi police that they are near the border. cop says flat out, don't go. "When they told me that they are planning to go to Ahmed Awa, I told them, 'Don't go there ... ' " so they go there. get nabbed. my oh my, what an outrage! those ghastly iranians punishing gifted americans. typical!

those were some tasty days of international tension. mmmm. still goin' on happily.

part of this recalling exposed, rather re-exposed, to mine own skewed eye a rather curious moment in the initial telling of the tale.

you see, the group actually comprised four yanks, one of whom decline to hike toward iran because he says he "felt sick." i'd be feeling a little sick at that prospect too. then again, i find it exceedingly unlikely that i or most other folk would choose to walk about kurdifukinstan in the midst of the iraq war. nonetheless, off the merry three traipsed toward iran. after the nabbing, the one who remained behind called his dear ol' gran. explains things. three fierce and talented friends have just been arrested by Iranian authorities at the border. fright and frantic must surely be the normative state of mind in such dire situations. yuud think, right? then gran tells us:

"My grandson has asked me not to talk to the media."

really? from the comfort of the us embassy in baghdad, a comfort granted by illness sparing a dastardly fate, that's what pops into your weird head to tell dear ol' gran thousands of miles away and frantic with worry? don't talk to the media? in whose buggered up head does that concern pop up first and foremost? can't help but think whether dear ol gran wondered what the fuck you were doing over there, too.