Hey Peggy. Fuck you, youshallow, trivial, solipisistic moral dsylexic:
She also added:
“It’s hard for me to look at a great nation issuing these documents
and sending them out to the world and thinking, oh, much good will come
of that.”
I’m sorry, Peg, is it boring around the house these days? Is it just such a bummer having to read about how the president whose leg you humped like a beagle on ecstasy hired a bunch of people to break the law and lie about it? Is that screwing with your plans to go shopping this weekend? Because I get it, I do, I’d much rather be writing about the White House garden and talking about how I covet Michelle’s outfits SO MUCH and giving people tips on where to buy really awesome tea which has kind of become my new passion but unfortunately YOUR BEST FRIENDS FUCKED THE WORLD UP SO HERE WE ARE. Here we sit, reading daily memos about waterboarding and putting people in boxes with insects and making them too crazy to testify about the crimes for which we were interrogating them. It sucks.
It’s hard for you to look at much good coming from us having to know all about the horrors done in our names? Yes, yes I can see that. But it’s harder for me to look at a great nation TORTURING PEOPLE and sending them out to the world TO GET TORTURED MORE IN OUR SECRET PRISONS and thinking, oh, much good will come out of that. I raised that point, yet off we went, merrily torturing left right and center, so pardon me for not having so much sympathy for how it’s now affecting your beautiful mind. I couldn’t see much good coming out of throwing away centuries of established law just because we felt like it, just because we could, but I was a filthy, foul-mouthed hippie who probably secretly hates America, so what I and hundreds of thousands of others had to say didn’t mean shit.
As for Peggy’s suggestion that we just keep walking, I’d like to ask her, where should we go? Keep walking? What the fuck FOR, if not to learn and change and reconcile and get better? I don’t understand this high-handed crap of hers, and by the way, the urge to keep walking will only benefit those who still CAN fucking walk, which I have to imagine would be kind of tough after being waterboarded a hundred times in a month.
How on earth is it better that “some things remain mysterious?” The fuck? I’m a reporter, still, even now: Knowing is always better than not knowing. Knowing is always better than wondering, always better than suspecting, always better than fearing, always better even than hoping. You have to know about the world in which you live; I can understand not wanting to live with the horror jacked into the back of your head like the Matrix but I can’t understand allowing that childish wish, the “Mommy, make it go away,” to allow you to shut it all out. I can’t conceive of the privilege necessary to convince yourself you have the right to advocate deliberate ignorance of the fundamental truths of this generation’s history in order to make you feel better. Who are you, to say that? Who are you, to decide?
Keep walking. Every time I think I’m used to their callousness, they find a way to break through rock bottom and dig another mile down.
A.