Originally posted on my own blog in May.
I've been pondering lately the whole bruhaha over Iran's nuclear program.
I like to think of it as my "Thankgiving Day Dinner" analogy.
When you were little, you sat at the little table. At the little table, you could throw food, hit your cousin, and basically do whatever you wanted. The grownups at the big table would only occasionally intervene, when the food was hitting the big table, or someone was about to be seriously injured by a drumstick.
Then, one day, perhaps it was when you were in high school, you finally moved to the big table. You felt important; an adult. But the rules were different. Fights, unless it involved a well-placed insult at your loathed uncle, were frowned upon. Manners must be obeyed; no more food fights.
And thus is life.
Iran has been enjoying life at the little table for a long time. Scream "Death to the Great Satan!" and the folks at the big table just roll their eyes. Throw some food at your neighbors, or a few state-sponsored terrorist attacks, and maybe--just maybe--the grownups would say something.
Then one day, a nice pretty mushroom cloud pops up over a desolate part of the country. ON TO THE BIG TABLE!!!
Now, the British, the Americans, the French, the Russians, the Chinese are all looking at you at your end of the big table--next to Israelis, the Indians and the Pakistanis. Say "Death to Israel!" or "Die American Pigs! Allah will eat your souls!" and you know, the people around the table take it seriously.
The old rules no longer apply. At the big table, you have to obey certain rules.
A grownup beating a kid at the little table is bad manners; by golly, that's abuse! Smacking a smart ass teenager who thinks poking grandma with a fork is funny, that is just seen as "keeping the peace."
Welcome to the Big Table, Mr. Ahmadinejad. Pass the rolls, would you?