God Hates God

Dear London,

Sometimes I forget, with all the mass amounts of cuntiness which courses through this city, that the people here are generally quite balanced and respond to great tragedy with a resounding ‘meh’.

‘Meh’ to death, ‘meh’ to terrorism, ‘meh’ to chaos. Maybe being worldly logic sluts prevents them from suffering the reactionary affliction from which so many other countries suffer. Maybe a solid diet of world news has led them to realise that, if this is all that happened, they are infinitely more lucky than most people in this world.

And that’s why I actually love Londoners – they won’t run out onto the streets and attack any poor person who is vaguely brown. They’ll react rightly – with sadness and not anger, with a desire to treat the symptoms of terrorism instead of shooting the bloke next to them who sneezes Arab.

So go ahead. Call me a big fucking hippie. I’ll fight tooth and nail against all the borderline retarded reactionary fuckwits in this world who scream out for ‘an eye for an eye’, and I have every right in this world to mourn all the poor souls who died today and those we’ve never met who will later suffer the wrath of the West’s dangerous ignorance. And I think we’ve all realised by now that ‘an eye for an eye’ is never equal, as apparently Arab countries, communists and the poor don’t seem to have eyes in the minds of those who are perilously reactionary.

I cannot abide those who blame this on Islam. Dangerous allegiance to a religion, flag or ideology always takes lives, the only side which can claim to be moral is that which doesn’t needlessly kill.

Animals, when cornered, either ‘fight’ or ‘flight’. I know we’re not going to run away with our fluffy little liberal tails between our legs, we’ll attack only that which attacks us. If a bloke came at you with a knife, you’d fight him, not the guy down the road that he just asked for directions.

And how do we do this? Fuck, I don’t have all the answers. Maybe my pink little liberal vision of the world is all wrong, but isn’t it about time that we give it a fucking try? What we’re doing now sure as hell isn’t working.

Obviously, I’m fine. My husband’s fine. I’m stuck in Beaconsfield, he’s trapped in London. And mum – I’m so glad I got a hold of you. I know you’ve been having a shit time, what with Robosister’s latest round of emergency surgery. Take care of her, I’ve got a lot of biscuits here, I’m fine.

My high horse holds millions,

Munky

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 7th, 2005 at 9:50 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.