The irony that makes art

If you recall an old movie in which an Armed Forces DJ was the main character, you would figure out right away….. Yes, it’s “Gooooooooooooooood Morning Vietnam”.

(other song would be “I feel good” to depict the era).

At the end, it’s Louise Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World to accompany visual of lush-green fields (riddled with bombs and bullets on the ground) from a helicopter gunner’s POV.

In all, during the Nixon administration, a total of 4 million tons of bombs were dropped in South East Asia. Enough to “deny the enemy his sanctuary”. So much that the finally-late Kissinger had to blurt it out “let’s end this charade quickly” (and in a White House photograph of the final hours of Saigon, he was showed hi-fiving still in tux, interrupted his evening at a Kennedy Center reception).

James-Bond like (I’d prefer Kurt Russell’s as Dr. Grant in Executive Decision), Dr. Kissinger gave talks and hand-shakes in a world in disarray.

He was once quoted as saying “the chaos in the world has exceeded diplomacy capacity”.

Perhaps he was right, given his expertise and experience.

Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood bye Saigon then.

It’s a wonderful world. For looters and profiteers ever since Indo-China came into being; as people under French colonial rule, everyone learned to exist as victims, to be multi-faced (as Viet Thanh Nguyen’s latest title).

Sympathizers, two-faced and double agents: “liberal front” this and that.

Yet, none has been more ironic than the movie itself (there was one student portrayed a sleeper terrorist): people there couldn’t sleep after a long night of bombing and bombardment. Yet, our high-spirited Garp-like DJ, soon after having logged in his shift, started his broadcast: “Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood Morning Vietnam”.

I remember seeing a CBS documentary showing shirtless G.I.’s in the jungle, with transistor radio dangling on a tree, playing “Reflections of my Life” (oh, I don’t want to die…).

It’s irony that makes art. Wonderful World, and awful war, long sleepless night greeted with Good Morning from a loud-mouth ally.

Lush green fields, yet all cratered and buried with Unexploded Ordinances.

Princess Diana once advocated humanitarian efforts to unearth and do away with those above mentioned (only to later tragically die of paparazzi’s exploded flash-bulbs in a Parisienne tunnel).

Irony makes art.

When we feel bored and there seemed to be nothing on the internet, no friends who are calling. Just remember, it could have been worse: burning monk, naked napalm girl, double-assassination, untried shot terrorist on camera, last chopper out and first tank rolling in what’s once called Saigon.

Then you’ll know and feel what those young G.I.’s felt in the thick of mosquitoes riddled jungle.

Of railroad switchman Calley (“Rusty”) who ordered (or had followed order) to shoot at anything that moves.

There are always a price to pay for entertainment. A price to pay for arts. And most of all, a hefty price to pay for human sacrifice. Each man’s death diminishes me, for I am a part of humanity.

The irony lies in the fact that our diplomacy capacity seemed to be outstripped by the chaos in the world, where bombs and bullets seem to be a quicker way to end a conflict. War will have no end.

At least in my short-lived life . I felt a lump in my throat just to think back to all that was happening back there and how ironic it is for Armstrong’s sound track to underlay the Mekong green as part of God’s creation. 4 millions tons of bomb (more than the 2 WW’s combined) ! What a Wonderful War.

No wonder Sec of Defense under Ford outright disobeyed a Presidential order to send planes for evac (those in the know had already vacated the premise – in one case, with furniture intact to Taiwan). To not cut-off the charade at some point would have been an ultimate irony and insult. Not after the Sec of State celebrated with his high-fives as shown in an Oval Office photograph (Kissinger later admitted he had not been aware that there still were some US personnel on the ground).

Irony. Contradiction. Two-minds, two-faced. Part of life. Depends on where you stand to look (from a chopper’s view, or victor’s tank). Even the event of the same day sees different interpretations. And it’s the irony that makes art. With a jumble mind comes a heart beat.

It’s the only real thing. And there is no need to analyze that which the heart feels. “I feel good”…………………………………….