I can almost feel Joel Brouwer echo my title if I were to speak to him about his poem. Exceptionally brillant, Brouwer wrote the ultra unorganized Lines from the Reports of the Investigative Committees with such a tongue-in-cheek- sarcastic tone towards a serious issue, almost make you feel like you've been slapped in the face, then given a lollipop: So bittersweet it's addictive.
Don't get me wrong, Brouwer's tone is extremely professional, especially in his skills to keep his frustrated undertone hidden while delivering his narratives. However, it is the fact that I'm old enough to up pick up sarcasm, and also the stupendous nature of BP's fake attempt to try up clean up the ocean that gives me not choice BUT to laugh. It just feels good to see them as foolish and incompetent, it just feels good to demonize their lack of foresight and ignorance.
But when the sky turns from gray to black, and while you sit back and enjoy whatever you tend to enjoy while sitting, and seriously consider the truth of the matter, you become fully aware of the "wholly black" of the ocean, the "snort of air" that rams and seabirds will never survive to take while trapped in that pit of tar, and the continuous incapability for us to do anything, but just tell Brouwer how useless you feel after reading his poem.
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