Rage.
At the moment. The current juncture. This place where we’ve found ourselves. My fingers get all tangled up in the keys and when I pound the desk in frustration it makes an ominous croak. I can speak well enough, though I have to make an effort to keep my voice down and all my jokes are brittle and if I’ve snapped at you in the past few days, it’s not your fault, and I am sorry. Sometimes my hands curl into fists when I’m not looking. It’s not that I really want to hit anybody because I’ve never hit anybody in my life but I want to hit somebody only that wouldn’t do any good, not any good at all. And it’s not the people who did the things they’ve done that I want to hit. It’s the people who say that what was done was okay, was fine, was what we’d all do anyway, was the American way, was gay feminist pornography, was what has to be done to get anywhere in this world, was nothing more than they deserved, was no big deal, was free speech. And I want to call them monsters because they are saying monstrous things but I can’t call them monsters. I can’t hit them. I can’t snap a baton against the backs of their knees and force them to kneel in fear before a snarling dog for the horrible things they’ve said, that they pretend I ought to believe. I can’t put hoods over their heads to shut them up. I can’t hit them. I can’t pretend I am better than this by pretending they are less than human because that’s how we get into these messes in the first place. But it is up to us to do something: God is away on business, and reason’s been asleep for four years or more, and every time they open their mouths monsters leap from their tongues and, and I can’t keep up, my arms won’t reach. Somebody’s locked up all the soapboxes. And just when I need my words the most to let the 300 or so people who come by here know that I feel just as outraged as they do themselves—
I am ashamed. I am appalled. I can’t countenance a country that happily lets the likes of Rush Limbaugh set the moral tone, and cheerfully pretends that James Inhofe adequately represents them. I can’t imagine a country that would so blithely condone the manifest incompetency of the people who claim to govern us. I can’t understand why we aren’t in the streets right now with torches and pitchforks, howling.
(Or maybe hide under the covers with my books and my cats and my wife until it all Goes Away in November when we vote them all out of office and we wake up from this horrible dream and everyone understands it was all a terrible misunderstanding and all the dead people stand up smiling and they apologize sweetly for playing such an awful trick on us but it’s over now and then there is a parade.)
My heart races sometimes and the corners of my eyes get wet and I feel that choke in the back of my throat and I wonder why until I remember and then my stomach drops. My hands curl into fists when I’m not looking but there are no holes in the wall. Yet.
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Thank you.
Yes.
Hit them? We don't even get to strip them naked and point mocking fingers at their genitals shriveling beneath pudgy rolls of flesh.
And that's too bad. I'd like to see these monsters cowering in shame.
i know it sounds crass and too overblown rabid at first, but i think the subtlety speaks through. it sums up way too much to be accidental ravings. Referring to how Tom Waits so succinctly put similar sentiments:
I'd sell your heart to the junkman baby
For a buck, for a buck
If you're looking for someone
to pull you out of that ditch
You're out of luck, you're out of luck
The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
There's leak, there's a leak,
in the boiler room
The poor, the lame, the blind
Who ore the ones that we kept in charge
Killers, thieves, and lawyers
God's Away, God's away
God's away on Business. Business. God's Away,
God's Away God's Away on Business. Business.
Digging up the dead with
a shovel and a pick
It's a job, it's a job
Bloody moon rising with
a plague and a flood
Join the mob, join the mob
It's all over. It's all over, It's all over
There's a leak, there's a leak,
in the boiler room
The poor, the lame, the blind
Who are the ones that we kept in charge?
Killers, thieves, and lawyers
God's away. God's away, God's away
On Business. Business.
God's away, God's away. God's away
On Business.
Goddamn there's always such
a big temptation
To be good, To be good
There's always free cheddar in
a mousetrap, baby
It's a deal, it's a deal
God's away, God's away, God's away
On Business. Business.
I narrow my eyes like a coin slot baby,
Let her ring, let her ring
God's Away, God's Away
God's Away on Business.
Business..........
At the risk of sounding like a bad thing: ditto.
"God away on business," which you referred to, of course. Doh. No wonder it popped in my head.
I'm like the guy in swingers leaving the follow-up-follow-up-answering-machine-message.
Back to Bruno.
And the butcherer's bill has started coming due; http://www.guardian.co.uk/Iraq/Story/0,2763,1214773,00.html
Christopher, thanks for the Waits, we needed that.
I have friends and coworkers who have to travel world wide. I'm worried that they may not be able to leave the country. Hell, we may be no safer here.
I cannot imagine anyone buying into the excuses given by the chattering classes.
Inhofe ain't nothin'.
Jebus. http://www.pabaah.com. Thanks, Jim, for mentioning this freak show in the comments.
Well, here's the appropriate response to beheading an American: For every town where an American contractor or soldier
Yup.
Tersely yours,
(and for the same reasons)
Last night, I'm feeding the baby, who happily vaccuums the formula from the bottle like a black hole, and ABC news is on and they're rehearsing the Big Story of the day (y'know, the Senate hearings) and then, hey, how does Nick Berg's beheading figure into all this, they wonder, so let's hear the conservative reaction, only they chose Sean Hannity, who's no conservative, he's a raging fascist loon, but here's what he says: "Now do we see the difference between mistreatment and an atrocity?"
I shut off the tube, not so much in disgust, but in a naive hope that I might protect my child from such poison.
What to do?
Yes! Just why aren't we in the streets right now with torches and pitchforks, howling? NB: I saw a link to this early this morning at PZ's place but did not go read it then....
I dunno about the chattering classes.
Right now my talkative, educated, considerating, on-the-other-hand teeth are chattering with RAGE.
Dump them in November and do the world a favour.
soft tissue, quivering rage
I re-found a fine biologists' site - Pharyngula - who is fascinated by strange things with tentacles. "Why have Cambrian arthropods not been caught in the act of moulting before?" The question has bothered me for weeks. The answer, by...
Thanks Kip.
Thank you.
Yes please people of America: dump them in November (that's actually a good sounding slogan, simple and to the point.) Seems to me you've got to get out and persuade the non-voters to register and vote. Tell them every vote counts. It can work, it has to. Otherwise what might the next 4 years bring?
Empire of Dreams
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