Tag Archives: anger

Just bitchin', Uncategorized

#Ukraine and The Words We Think

Countless images of heartbreak and horror are burned into my memory  as Russia’s war against Ukraine continues.

A woman weeping over the bloodied corpse of her dog, killed by Russian artillery as they went for their morning walk.

A child in an underground shelter standing before others also in hiding, singing a song from the movie Frozen. The one with the brave, defiant lyrics “Here I stand and here I’ll stay. Let the storm rage on. Cold never bothered me anyway.”

Bodies abandoned along streets. A smear of red where once there was a head.

My sympathy has changed to white-hot rage.

It isn’t enough to decry the death and damage inflicted on people who had no voice in the inception of Russia’s war, Putin’s war. But for one man’s greed, one man who sits at a safe distance, all this could have been avoided.

And now that man is joined by a United States president and his cowardly cohorts.

For the first time in history, the U.S. stands with the dictator, the aggressor, the slayer of Democracy.

And my rage is overwhelming. I, who had always said that, no matter who holds it, the title of President of the United States commands respect have nothing but loathing to offer.

Everyone keeps saying “Don’t speak out. You’ll get in trouble. None of us can say what we really think.”

Done with that.

I have no way of stopping any person or event. I am far away and devoid of resources. But I won’t be quiet anymore.

I want Trump’s flesh flayed from his bones and fed to dogs starving and abandoned in war-ravaged streets.

I want a coup like that of January 6, 2021. But I want it to succeed in routing out the vermin who support Trump and Putin. I want that scaffold he intended for Mike Pence re-erected.

I want Trump to wear that noose.

I resent the hate and anger he has incited in me.

Two bullets might have spared Ukraine and the world so much. A horrid thought I had never believed would be mine.

Is it too late?

Are we angry enough yet?

Have we lost enough yet?

Silence is not an option. Protests and demonstrations are tools of a bygone era. We need new ammunition to stop what is happening.

What weapon will we choose?

All I have are words.

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Just bitchin'

The Stupidity of Terrorism

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I awoke to the headlines like the rest of the world.

Another terrorist attack.

Another hostage situation.

Another bevy of sociopaths masquerading under the guise of religious piety.

Poor Bangladesh.

But this time I read deeper. I looked at Facebook pages of some of the victims. I read through as many eye-witness accounts of survivors as I could find. I spent a little time, though not as much as such an atrocity deserves. At least, not if one wishes to honor the victims. As for the instigators, they are less than nothing in my estimation. They deserve only contempt.

Because they’re stupid.

Yes, it is possible to terrorize individuals, but this whole campaign started out as a quest to terrorize the entire world. The goal was to make the planet cower and quake in submission.

You fucking morons. Haven’t you realized yet that the terror of people is not the same as the terror of countries?

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Are you so dumb that you haven’t yet seen the equation? Well, let me spell it out for you. Every time you run shrieking Allah and firing guns and blowing yourselves up, it’s like stinging a very large grizzly bear. The bulk of the animal will survive. Not only that, it will exhibit extreme fury. It will turn on what stung it, and rend it.

Terror  x  50  =  Rage  x  Billions

Terrorists are short-sighted sadists. This time around they took pleasure in torturing their hostages by requiring they recite from the Koran. If you couldn’t do it, you were killed. That’s a very particular kind of sick cruelty. Very inefficient. Very risky. It proves nothing other than these sociopaths wished to spend their last moments of life engaged in misguided brutality.

And they’re too dim-witted to realize that, in the bigger picture, their antics produce anger, not fear.

Because the rest of the world knows that each life, each spirit, is a gift. Each murder is the theft of potential.

This is not a Christian concept. It’s a human one.

It’s easy to grasp, unless you’re mind-numbingly stupid. You know…

…like a terrorist.

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No End in Sight

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So now every Tom, Dick and Fucking Harry who wants to scrabble for some form of crazy-ass validity is going to hitch their wagon to ISIS or IS or Al-Qaeda.

Like a runt piglet on the playground, looking for a peer group, they’re going to turn their heads containing their twisted brains and disenfranchised thoughts toward a religion they’ve never honored, never learned, never known, except that now the media has taught them that it’s the label to assume if you HATE YOUR LIFE AND EVERYONE ELSE’S, TOO.

Well, forgive me. I’m angry. I’m sick of the mass shootings and the tepid, little statements in the bloody aftermaths that offer ‘thoughts and prayers’ and let’s clasp our hands together and leave flowers on the ground.

It’s taken me a few days to gather my thoughts out of the shocked realization that IT’S HAPPENED AGAIN! Another morgue-full of reminders.

This isn’t ISIS. This isn’t IS. This isn’t Al-Qaeda.

This is someone looking for attention who happens to live in a country that lets him buy assault weapons with the ease of walking into a 7-11.

Worst of all? This isn’t foreign terrorism.

This is America.

It’s us, spelled U.S.

It’s the copycat loser who’ll fancy himself immortal for going out in a hail of hate, and will turn his pleading eyes toward the Daddy who’ll approve him. ISIS, IS, Al-Qaeda.

They didn’t birth him. We did.

And we armed him.

And it has nothing to do with religion, but everything to do with mental aberration.

UNDERSTAND? NO???

Well, don’t worry…I’m sure there’s a refresher course right around the corner, buying his ammo at the corner gun shop as we speak.

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Midwinter Malaise

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It’s like cabin fever of the soul.

But not quite.

It’s like mental nails on a mental chalkboard

But not quite.

It’s like teeth grating on the tines of a fork.

But not quite.

It’s emotional mid-winter. Grey. No end in sight. Damp and wet and squelching underfoot. Soggy and chill. It’s wanting to stay in bed all day. It’s forgetting to open the drapes, because, really, what difference does it make. It’s watching the sky drip like a suppurating wound. It’s going a little deaf from the endless rattling of the rain, the sifting of the flakes. It’s life bounded by drear, experienced in murk.

But not quite.

Out of sheer desperation you instigate paltry changes, as though doing so will make Nature take notice; will make Her speed up Her calendar and change now, change soon. As though Nature cares that you’ve hacked off your hair, or thrown out half of your possessions, or walked naked in the snow to demonstrate, if not your power, then your indifference.

As though Nature cares.

It’s breaking rules and doing things you’ll regret; regretting even as you do. It’s squinting at displays of red and pink satin hearts that try to deceive you into believing this is anything other than a time of snarling discontent.

It’s February.

It’s midwinter malaise.

It’ll pass.

Too late.

Damn that groundhog anyway.

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Image: Dark Hand In A Dark Place from pulsamedia.eu

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