SEAL Team Raids a Tanker and Thwarts a Militia’s Bid to Sell Libyan Oil. Country is in pieces. Even Crimea is doing better.

The NY Times has been investing its travel money wisely and produced: SEAL Team Raids a Tanker and Thwarts a Militia’s Bid to Sell Libyan Oil. But it is Marquel, the TPV Times correspondent who sounds the alarm: despite this mini victory, Libya is not doing well despite American treasure invested in Qaddafi’s ouster, and American companies interest–and ownership–of Libyan oil.

Marquel read the item with interest. This is the Libya we replaced Qaddaffi’s with? So far, hmmm, it seems that the Libyan prime minister was kidnapped. By about three kidnappers. Then, the parliament was ransacked, again by a very small group. Something like three people once more. Then, after this tanker left with illicit Libyan oil, the prime minister was thrown out, but they’d given no thought to whom would replace him. Then of course this oil theft where, once again, swear and cross my heart, three terrorists or pirates were arrested. And finally, though with this list “finally” has a very temporary feel to it, because on Monday the national military academy graduated one of its first classes of future officers with no ties to the former corrupt government. And they were immediately almost all blown up.

If this were a movie it would be nominated for nothing. A new car, it wouldn’t sell. A hospital, No patients. An aquarium, just dead fish. What the hell is going on in Libya and why are we seizing tankers for them?

Marquel is seriously concerned, even disillusioned, by what appears to be American foreign policy. He went down to the state department and sought some time with the northern Africa desk.

“Libya?” A young man with huge ears shouted from his cubbyhole. “That’s my state!”

This farmer was in charge of Libya? It boggled my mind. “What do you mean, your state?” I asked him.

“Like Texas, or Louisiana, or wherever. My state is Libya.”

“Well”, I responded, “it seems like a mess, oil stolen, parliament sacked, prime minister kidnapped, then fired with no replacement, west point bombed…’your’ state is a pile of shit.”

“Seems like it sir,” he answered, “but so would Mississippi if you look at it closely.”

“You know,” I said, “that’s the second time you’ve referred to American states in this conversation. Does that mean something?”

 “What do you mean?” He asked, “these are our other states. They’re just not the same as the first fifty.”

“You’ve lost me,” I said, “where does it say these are American states. I’m only familiar with the ones listed in the constitution.”

“Well you’ve got some news coming your way.” He said. “There’s a whole bunch of geopolitical states not in the constitution that are just as much states as Massachusetts.”

“I don’t think so,” was all I could muster.

“Maybe you should take some poli sci classes,” he said and seeing me start to answer that, he added,”in this century.”

“And in what poli sci classes did you learn about these extra states?” I asked.

“Princeton,” he said so proudly that it was clear he would never understand the intellectual vomit that I associated with that place.

Somewhere I was muttering to myself, “We’ll that’s no big surprise.” But I said nothing.

But finally I did. “So some right wing Princeton globalizer teaches you that we have some legitimate interest and you join the state department with Libya as your state. Is that how it works?”

“Actually, yes,” he said, “most of us are from Princeton. One of us just lost his state,” he said giggling. “Andrea, upstairs. Her state was Crimea. Now it’s not!” He was still giggling but added , “but she’ll get another. They’re pretty nice to us here.”

“They seem to be” I said. “I never had a state when I was 23. Let me be frank.” He nodded. “How come your state is so totally fucked?”

“That keeps me up at night. You know unless a crisis arises, we’re pretty much alone here.” He said. “I talk to the ambassador maybe once a month, the chargé d’affaires as much as daily, but that thing with parliament…caught us by surprise.”

“Do you ever think this is none of our business, we should stay out of it, and maybe we do more damage by interfering?” I asked.

“Well that violates the very principles we’ve learned. We’re spreading democracy. That’s why they are states. If Russia were involved you don’t think you’d see much democracy do you?”

“No, nor with us.” I said. “Why would American oil companies want democracy in Libya?”

“Everybody wants democracy,” he said confidently.

“Especially Americans, don’t you think?” I asked.

“Well, naturally,” he said with equal confidence.

“But to get back to Libya,” I said, “you say you missed these events. How’s your language skills?”

“Can’t get in here without them.” He nodded.

“Arabic?” I asked, “that’s commendable.”

“Well, no, my language is German. All five years at Princeton. My German is better than native speaking,” he bragged.

“But no wonder. How could you possibly manage our fifty first state without Arabic?” I asked.

“Surely you joke,” he answered. “My German is, like, superhuman. Better than a German do you understand? Better than your English!”

“Then your state should be Germany…or maybe Austria.” I said firmly.

“But those aren’t our geopolitical states. Those are countries!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah I guess I forgot about that. Silly, ” I said. “So what are we going to do with all these states,” I asked, “add stars to the flag?” I was tired of having all my prejudices of Princeton confirmed so easily and completely.

“Nein, nein,” he barked, with a slight hint of a salute, “anschluss!”

I groaned and understood all.

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If you want to follow Marquel on Twitter and don’t know how to find it, type @MarquelatTPV.