I Can't. But I Can.
Sep. 11th, 2007 12:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogIf February 3, 1959 was (as Don McLean will tell you it was), The Day The Music Died, then this day six years ago was The Day The Funny Got The Shit Beaten Out Of It.
I often say, "ya gotta laugh, because otherwise you'll have to cry." On this day six years ago, there was no choice. It took weeks for some, years for others, for even hints of humor to come back.
Six years later minus a day or two, I could do it. I could, and did, make all make and manner of Osama jokes. But today, reading the poignant thoughts of people far closer to the site of the carnage than I was that day (I would especially commend this and this), I am back in a state of sadness, with remnants of anger still stuck in there like stray pebbles bound in cement.
By this time on that morning, I wanted nothing other than revenge. I was aiming hypothetical ICBMs at Mecca and hoping they'd obliterate every trace of this madness visited upon us. For a few brief moments, long before ever hearing the words "My Pet Goat," I even thought our impostor of a President might rise to the occasion and visit justice on these madmen.
Instead, he flew the Bin Ladens out of the country and started plotting to invade Iraq. Which, it occurred to me today, is the functional equivalent of our original, true patriot Founding Fathers writing a Declaration of Independence and then sending it to the King of Sweden.
I'm no longer plotting nuclear trajectories. I'm better than I was then and tomorrow I'll be better about it still.
For now, though, I think I'll just shut up.
I often say, "ya gotta laugh, because otherwise you'll have to cry." On this day six years ago, there was no choice. It took weeks for some, years for others, for even hints of humor to come back.
Six years later minus a day or two, I could do it. I could, and did, make all make and manner of Osama jokes. But today, reading the poignant thoughts of people far closer to the site of the carnage than I was that day (I would especially commend this and this), I am back in a state of sadness, with remnants of anger still stuck in there like stray pebbles bound in cement.
By this time on that morning, I wanted nothing other than revenge. I was aiming hypothetical ICBMs at Mecca and hoping they'd obliterate every trace of this madness visited upon us. For a few brief moments, long before ever hearing the words "My Pet Goat," I even thought our impostor of a President might rise to the occasion and visit justice on these madmen.
Instead, he flew the Bin Ladens out of the country and started plotting to invade Iraq. Which, it occurred to me today, is the functional equivalent of our original, true patriot Founding Fathers writing a Declaration of Independence and then sending it to the King of Sweden.
I'm no longer plotting nuclear trajectories. I'm better than I was then and tomorrow I'll be better about it still.
For now, though, I think I'll just shut up.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 04:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 05:17 pm (UTC)If I found myself genuinely moved to tears more often, more generalized depression might be less of a problem.
::hugs and 8 million more for the neighbors::
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 05:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 07:18 pm (UTC)Thanks for the hugs.