Bring Omar Khadr Home

Yo, Harper—this is an open letter to you.

Wait a minute. That’s no way to address the Prime Minister of a great nation.

I’ll just call you Steve. Is that ok?

I hope you had fun with your good buddy George at Rusutsu and discussed all sorts of important matters regarding poverty and the poorest of the poor. Did the caviar go down ok? That’s good.

That George is such a kidder, isn’t he? One almost forgets the indelible blood all over his hands. He introduced you to President Umaru Yar’Adua of Nigeria one of the most corrupt countries on earth. The election was massively fraudulent, just like both of George’s. “Good man,” George said. Well, it takes one to know one, I guess. But careful, Steve—Bush is down to two lapdogs now that Tony-boy is gone, he might be looking for a third, and you might be it. Being a Canus Lapus for Bush (who many consider to be in the same league as Hitler, Pol Pot and Idi Amin) can be bad for one’s political career, let alone one’s dignity. Up to you, but if you’re going to sniff around George, maybe you shouldn’t do it from the Office of Prime Minister.

But that’s not why I’m writing, Steve.

About six years ago Omar Khadr, a Canadian citizen then fifteen years old, was captured by American troops in Ayub Kheyl Afghanistan. After dropping five-hundred pound bombs on the house in which he and others were hiding, Khadr was shot three times in the back.