Stand by

“The strike on the vehicle on 29 August . . . killed 10 members of one family, including six children, relatives told the BBC.”

The drone is a Reaper,
The missile it fires is a Hellfire.
There you have it.
The person who programmed the drone is a nobody,
A minion of the Great Satan
Who corrupts or explodes whatever he touches.
He can’t help it. He’s Satan.
But who are we who stand by?
Does that phrase ring a bell?

Stand by.

You might not be needed yet but — stand by.
When Satan gives the nod or wink you must all push your buttons.
What buttons?
You didn’t know about the two buttons?
They’re right next to your conscience.
Red means: Don’t do it, count me out, this is insane etc.
(But the red button isn’t connected, it’s just a prop.)
Green is: Go ahead with my blessing.

Blow up anything or anyone you want.
I’ll look the other way.

Call it whatever you want: vengeance, two eyes for an eye,
Call it American-style Justice,
Doing the dirty work,
(Other missiles are called Mr Clean and Spic and Span
An everyday antibacterial missile that kills bacteria and viruses
On contact and is effective as a disinfectant when used as directed.)

Call it any kind of righteous gobbledygook
Call it doin’ Hell’s work but someone has to do it.
Call it permission to commit surgical error
Any time any place anywhere,
Just not here.
Call it the price of living the good life.
Call it the new amorality.
As long as the Reaper’s mission is farrrrr away.
We’re good with it.
Tomorrow will be two minutes, 56 seconds shorter than today.
That’s all that matters really.
I can live with that.
That’s about how long it takes to brush my teeth
Or pick what Netflix I want to watch
To keep reality at bay.
Stand by.