Drift Reality > Washington, DC > Axis of Evil: I am Pure Evil

I am pure evil.

I am not evil in the way that some people experience unfortunate circumstances and gradually become cold and embittered, resorting to devious methods in order to sustain their malevolent lifestyles; I was born pure evil.

That's what happens when your parents are from the axis of evil.

Rewind twenty-three years to 1982.

The first time I realize the darkness that lives in my soul I am four-years-old, and the diabolical altar at which I come to this epiphany is the dinner table.

My Mom would spend the entire day in a sweltering kitchen, slaving over an oven in order to prepare an elaborate dish of ghormeh sabzi and ashe.

She would set the table, laying all the dishes out meticulously with her razor sharp talons, and then call to my Dad in a banshee-like shriek.

"Bobbie, dinner is ready."

After a few moments of silence, I would hear my Dad lumbering out of his cave in the basement and I knew he would be clutching a bottle that contained a most malevolent substance - Kim Chi.

Fast-forward twenty years to 2002.

I am watching Bush's state of the union address and he has just referred to my parents' countries as being members of the "Axis of Evil." Granted, his speechwriter made an attempt to differentiate between these countries' regimes and their people, but somehow I wonder if this will make a difference.

I can't help but think about the subtlety involved with differentiating between an Iranian and the regime in Iran, and wondering if it is possible that not all US citizens will fully understand this subtlety. This is a country that demonizes the enemy; not one that criticizes its regime while embracing its people. This is a country of McCarthyism, My Lai, and Japanese Internment Camps.

Perhaps using the word "evil" to describe Iran, Iraq, and North Korea might not hit people quite the right way.

In fact, White House speechwriter David Frum might have realized this when originally putting the speech together, for he had initially conceived of the term "axis of hatred." The word "hatred" had been changed to "evil" by Frum's superiors in order to match the theological language that Bush had used in the wake of September 11.

If the word "evil" had the same effect on me that seeing my Father put Kim-Chi on ghormeh sabzi had on my Mother - righteously furious - then the word "axis" had the same effect on me that my Mother's anger had on my Dad - bemusement.

See, "axis" implies a sense of collusion.

Rewind sixty-six years to 1936.

Political representatives from Italy and Germany sign an alliance treaty, which prompts the Italian fascist Benito Mussolini to state that Europe will eventually revolve around an axis formed between Rome and Berlin.

See, this claim makes sense because an axis is literally a straight line about which a body rotates. Obviously, Mussolini was paying attention in geometry class. Unfortunately for him, Japan's entrance into the alliance pretty much destroyed the linguistic accuracy of the term. Unfortunately for most of Europe, grammar was the least of Mussolini's concerns.

The linguistic massacre would continue, as Bulgaria, Hungary, and Romania would also join the axis powers. I guess "Hexagon powers" just doesn't have the same ring.

Despite the geometrical inaccuracies involved, the saving grace of the term is that unlike the "Axis of Evil," there actually is collusion between the countries involved.

If GW had only seen what went down at my dinner table every night, he would have realized there was never any way that sane citizens from these two nations would ever have anything to do with one another.

Fast-forward 46 years to 1982.

As my Dad unscrews his bottle of Kim Chi, one can practically see the odor creeping out and falling onto the table and over the food like a terrible plague.

As my Mom watches in horror, my Dad proceeds to layer Kim-Chi over her kubideh, rice, and ghormeh sabzi. On special occasions (like full moons), he even brings a bottle of gochujang (Korean chili paste), which he proceeds to mix into his ashe until it is the color of blood.

I watch as my Mom begins to shake in her seat at the site of this culinary massacre.

Before too long, her shaking grows into full-blown convulsions as he began to slurp his gochujang-flavored ashe.

"Bob!" she would growl, the volume of her voice increasing precipitously as she continued. "What do you think you are doing? You are RUINING IT! And STOP making that awful noise!"

Growing up in a household like this, is it really such a surprise that I am pure evil?