Here's the real "talk like a pirate" day

If you want to get a bit of an understanding about the meaning of the IAEA motion to report Iran to the Security Council, check out Jerome a Paris's Iran Nuclear Showdown article on Daily Kos.
Jerome also urges everyone to read Kos diarist Antifar's Smoke O'er The Water -- a brilliant piece of work:

So far, talk of stopping the war has cost most Americans little. Some discretionary income for yellow ribbons and now for gasoline, and some leisure time for perusing opinion columns for or against the war.
Blithely voting with our pocketbooks, we drive to protests and performances and marches and meetings all alone in a big V8 vehicle; we critique concepts like clashing civilizations over salads flown in from New Zealand and guacamole trucked up from Mexico. We blog over broadband about the better than six billion members of our species who live very close to the dirt, on less than a dollar a day, and always will. And we worry about our weight.
It's a bloody good life, compared to some others.
Which is to say, livin' large as we do is the opposite of stopping this war, or the coming wars over other resources we will also need to keep comin'. This war is for that salad, that SUV, and that guacamole, and for all the comfy, free and easy we still enjoy in America, currently courtesy of some grunts sweating out their second or third tours in Baghdad. Comfort isn't free or painless.
What will stop this pirate war, and future resource wars over water, food, lebensraum,and whatever else gets scarce -- is for Americans to look at this harsh thing we are doing to Iraq in order to keep our creature comforts, and turn away from it, even at the cost of some of those comforts. It certainly won't kill us. It certainly is killing them. The only way home from Baghdad is for enough Americans to decide that this nation will live on what we can make, not what we can take.
Bringing our troops home without making that decision will not solve the deeper problem, the root cause of these resource wars.
Aye. There's the rub. There's gold and grub enough for foreign wars. There's nary enough for us all to live like kings and queens, away out in the suburbs, driving to work and back, flying around the world when we feel the fancy, burning up twenty times the oil of the average citizen of Earth as if God said we were better than them.
That lifestyle was built on cheap oil, cheap food, cheap travel, and it's only going to be maintained in the future at the barrel of a gun, in the hands of your son. It's going to cost you that.
Is that comfortable? . . . Are we stuck on war without end, killing to keep it comin'? Is loot n' scoot really us? Are we the Vandals and Visigoths this time around? Are we the Huns who torture and rape and burn whole villages? Our troops have been doing things that we excoriated the Wehrmacht for doing when my Dad was a dogface back in `45. Inhuman things, unspeakable things, done in our names.
Is that acceptable? Is that us? Are we pirates?
Not facing this choice is choosing. Not choosing is choosing. Until we reduce our worldwide first-strike military machine to a national defense army we won't even have the means, motivation or mentality to stop stealing for a living. Our problem is oil, not terror. Our problem in Iraq is that we took our problem over there. We're fighting in someone else's house, over their possessions. We're a pirate nation while we do this, and the world at large will not put up with that for very long.
Will we choose to live more simply, here at home, or keep marching our men down to the sea with bloody theft in mind?
Well add it all up, me buckos. It will be one way or the other. Meanwhile, raise a black flag and sharpen your swords! Set every sail on a course for the Strait of Hormuz -- this time Bush is after the treasures of Tehran! Send him your sons and daughters; it's the yardarm for anyone who holds back now! The red white n' blue is the scourge of the sea, and there's no turnin' back for you or for me!
`Tis a pirate's life from here, `til we all meet Davy Jones or they hang us on high. It's glory and gold -- or smoke o'er the water an' a chilly grave.
There's the truth of it, and here's a guinea coin to the son of a whore who sings it out plain and simple:
America will not stop these wars.
America will be stopped.

Sorta puts the rest of the world on notice, doesn't it?