I found this a few days ago and it just seemed kinda apt, as well as reminding me of the late, great Bill Hicks.
full version here www.ezrael.org...
March 12, 2003
Is it just me, or is everyone insane?
I mean, what. The. F*ck. Is. Wrong. With. Us? That's right, I'm so f*cking confused I'm actually resorting to swearing and Captain Kirk diction.
Seriously, we're all insane. I've always been of the opinion that humanity as a whole is an unfinished project...a simian with barely enough
intellect to put our opposable thumbs to any use, apes who confuse our limited sensory abilities and our hastily cobbled-together view of the world
for reality, just another step along the evolutionary path...but lately I'm starting to really believe that we're played out, that we developed
certain attributes too soon without coming up with counterbalancing systems to hold us in equilibrium. For starters, the ability to see the other
person's point of view.
I mean, I could spend the rest of my life trying to point out how rarely things are ever simple and how when they are, it's usually because the
observer is bereft of perceived alternatives. I could break out the Koestler and try and discuss the benefits of bisociation. I could talk about how
Arab teenagers who blow up buses and Israeli security agents use the same goddamn terminology "Kill one of us and we will kill ten of you." What
happens then? That means I need to kill a hundred of you to balance it out? Sh1t, that just kills a thousand of mine. Which means ten thousand of
yours need to die, I guess. As though justice has a balance sheet.
I accept now that someone is eventually going to kill me. Perhaps I'll be killed because I'm an American Warmonger, or perhaps because I'm
insufficiently Patriotic. Maybe I'll be shot outside a Planned Parenthood somewhere, who knows why I'll be there. Maybe I'll be killed by some
nationwide equivalent of the Mississippi Soverignity Comission or maybe I'll be run over by people rushing to deface a 9/11 memorial. Sooner or
later, I'll be killed. Who knows why anymore? Someone will kill me to shut me up, or because of the way I look or my ancestry or an accident of
birth...maybe I'll be killed because I like the wrong kind of music. Maybe I'll be killed because I'm in the wrong #ing building and someone's
decided to send a message by blowing it up. There are plenty of potential Timothy McVeighs out there, plenty of angry young men who want to make the
world a better place by killing the people they don't agree with, whether they're in Al Qaeda or the IRA or some Militia or another. Some of those
men grow into leaders. They then send angry young men to die in their place. Thus the world spins onward. I keep expecting to hear that Tom Ridge has
evidence linking Richard Jewell to everything. I mean, because the FBI is never wrong or anything, it's not like the idea of an overarching
bureacracy run by the same guys who tried to get Martin Luther King to commit suicide should make you uncomfortable.
I've come to the conclusion that there are a lot of as$holes the world over who want everyone who doesn't agree with them dead or silent. That there
are a lot of people honestly terrified by these people, who want to be protected from them, and who are only seeing the ones on the other side of
whatever divides exist in their minds and not the ones on their own side. I also think that it's possible to have multiple opinions on these
issues...for instance, to think that American policy in Iraq is creating multiple problems for us further down the road without thinking that Saddam
Hussein is a cuddly kitten we should all crush to our bosom...well, okay, we can crush him to our bosom as long as he gets no air whilke he's there,
I'll concede to that one...and, for that matter, to think that murdering people to make a point is f*cking hideous no matter who does it. When Bono
can win over Jesse Helms to his way of thinking, maybe it's not all lost, but it's far from all f*cking won either. As the singer put it in an
article recently, when people are dying because they can't get clean water, they can't get medicine, they can't get food and they know you have
these things, it doesn't take much to get them to hate you. I've already said it to friends and I'll say it again, when a f*cking rock star makes
that much sense we're f*cked.
I realize I'm just writing in my glorified f*cking diary here, call it what you want. A blog, a weblog, a journal, Uncle Matty's Documented
Anti-Sanity Slide Down The Rabbithole, whatever works for you. So the conceit that I'm writing to the whole human race is patently absurd. Still,
since I'm not going to get my magic markers out and walk down the street with a placard marked We are all human together I guess this is the best I
can do. So I might as well pretend I'm talking to the whole bunch of us at once, and if you're offended at being lumped in with the rest of us, I
can only apologize. Here goes.
The person you hate and fear is your brother. The person you decry for callousness and warmongering is your sister. The person you offend, the person
who offends you, the person who holds a differing opinion than you about God or morality or the proper course of nations or the spread of justice or
the use of force...that person is of one flesh with you. The person of a different culture or religion, the person who was born in another land with
different customs and a different culture, the person who would see you dead rather than hear your point of view, the person you would lock up for
treason because they protested the government, the person sitting across from you as you look at a terminal flickering these thoughts at you is your
love and your salvation and the only hope you have in all the cold uncaring universe of finding someone else who can possibly understand what it is
like to be what you are.
I don't care what your politics are. I don't care if you think I'm a fool for saying so. I don't care if you plan my death. You are mine.
Everything that is in me is in you, seeded, we carry the same plan in our blood and our bones and you can kill me and it will not change it. Every
death diminishes us. Every loss is our loss. Every starving baby, every sickly man in a tenement, every elderly woman pinned under wreckage screaming
to the sky to save her, every child-man in a uniform preparing to kill or die, every arrogant jackass at a computer terminal insulting someone else
for daring to be different, every person feeling the lash for expressing a thought, every mother seeking to make the world better for her offspring,
everyone just trying to make it another day in this chaos we call life is one of us. It is not wrong to fear. It is not wrong to doubt. It is not
wrong to not know what to do. It is not wrong to be human. It's what we are. I refuse to believe that being human is a crime or a sin, that knowing
fear or rage or pain are immoral, that being unfinished and not knowing everything is anything we should be ashamed of. What we should be ashamed of,
if we have to be ashamed at all, is letting ourselves forget this essential connection and squabbling like children in this ever-expanding miracle we
have been privileged to experience.
Stop telling each other to shut up and listen. Listen to the fear and pain and outrage on the other side, whatever side that is. Try and see how they
see. It's a huge, bloody, messy, sh1t-encrusted shock of a world, with pain and death and monsters in the family, men and women who do horrors and
declare themselves righteous. I blew up that church and those four litle black girls to protect my way of life. I killed those teenagers in that car
to protect my children. I set off the Ryder Truck full of explosives to strike a blow for freedom. I killed those women because my neighbor's dog
told me to. We had to kill those people because Charlie told us to. I beat the child so that it would learn to fear God. These things and many other
atrocities, from the slaughter of millions of Jews, Gypsies, Mental Patients and other undesirables in World War II to the genocide of the Natives in
the Americas, all the way back to the utter destruction of Carthage and beyond...these have always been with us. Perhaps they always will be. There
may be no answer to the question am I my brother's keeper that can, or will, satisfy us all. It doesn't mean we shouldn't ask.
I'm more or less out of rant. To sum up: whatever you believe, you're probably wrong. This includes me, too. We're probably wrong. If nothing else,
maybe we could all be polite about it. Okay, not polite. Sh1t, when am I polite? Civil? Is that the word? Okay, how about maybe we could stop spitting
on each other. That's the keeper.
Posted by Ezrael at 07:53 AM