The following letter is Pam Foster of Pamela Foster and Associates in Atlanta. She's been in business since 1980 doing interior design and home planning. She recently wrote a letter to a family member serving in Iraq Read it!
WHAT'S ALL THE FUSS?
"Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11.2001? Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan, across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn't they?
And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet? Well, I don't. I don't care at all.
I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.
I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia.
I'll care when Abu Musab al-Zarqawi tells the world he is sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling, slashed throat.
I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.
I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.
I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.
In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don't care.
When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college hazing incident, rest assured that I don't care.
When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank that I don't care.
When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts that I don't care.
And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and -- you guessed it, I could not have said this any better myself! I DON'T CARE!
And I don't care whether this is a real letter or not; or whether there is such a person as Pam Foster and her design company. I DO care that someone wrote this and I agree with every word.
I also don't care what Europeans think of us -- not one little bit. They've never liked us, so why should I care what they think?
I don't care what Cindy Sheehan says or does and I don't feel sorry for her. Her son volunteered to serve; if she chooses not to honor his service, that's her problem. I'm a grieving mother, too, but I'll be darned if I'll use that grief to garner pity for myself and destruction for the Middle East.
I don't care that the French hate us. My Father served in France in WWI and came home with an intense dislike of the French -- so intense that he discouraged me from traveling in that country and couldn't understand why I would want to learn the language. It took me a while do discover that, indeed, Father Knows Best.
I don't care about the Democratic Party. Although I've worked for Republicans most of the time throughout my adulthood (mainly because as a group they are more intellectual and nicer people to be with), I have voted for Democrats. They have made such political fools of themselves lately though, with their lies and half-truths and frantic attempts to destroy efforts to pass worthy legislation that I suspect I've become a "yellow dog" Republican.