Hope and Healing

Forgive me, Father, for I have been listening to Larry King on the Radio.

Money Quote (from a Virginia Tech coed):

... I have found Hope and Healing ...

To recap: yesterday, some ass-wipe murdered 32 of her friends and neighbors, and today she is finding "hope and healing"? May I suggest that it may be just the teensy-est bit shallow for us to find "hope and healing" in a short 24-hours?

I know, I know, we're suppose to celebrate our strength and recuperative powers, and it's probably pretty shallow of ME to criticize our grief-process time frame. Still, if we were all that broken up about the death of THIRTY TWO of our fellow students, one might be forgiven for suggesting that going on the Larry King show to tell us all how we have already found HOPE AND HEALING is ... ah, never mind.

If we have to ask, we wouldn't understand.

I read Dennis Prager this afternoon, and while he wasn't there, at least he has a good understanding of the way the grief process works.

Sure, college students are definitively The Me Generation (I was, at that age), but one would like to think that they have enough sensitivity to view the slaughter of their fellow students in terms of someone else (for example, the dead kids?) for just a little while.

And what is it about mass murderers? They rampage through whatever venue they choose, kill a lot of innocents, and THEN they shoot their face off?

Why can't they take a short cut? Why don't they shoot their face off FIRST, and save us all this grief?

This Cho, this toilet paper to the rectum of humanity, had a lot of choices; but he was 'in pain' because of his, supposedly, suffering from romantic rejection and societal disillusionment.

What a piece of work you were, Cho. You sociopathic sick fuck.

Isn't that a nasty phrase? I've never used it before, never thought I would say that about another human being. But it perfectly describes the being, and perfectly expresses my feelings.

"You sociopathic sick fuck." I don't want to feel your pain. I just want you to be dead Dead DEAD for all eternity and may you rot in hell. I don't want to feel this angry toward another human being again.

Damn you to all eternity.

We have ALL felt his pain. But instead of getting over it, and instead of doing the decent thing and blowing his brains out at the first sign of dejection with his filed-off-serial-number (what's that all about?) Niner, he kills his One True Love and their 'mediator', takes two hours to gear up, and then trashes the lives, the hopes and the expectations of our most precious natural resource; our young people. The best and the brightest.

Kipling could have given him the nod, if the shit-for-brains idiot could have taken just a moment to get over himself:

When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.

Am I'm angry?

Yes!

There is NO sympathy for a baby-turd who is so full of himself that he can consider no higher calling than to make a big splash, and chooses the life of his fellow man as his canvas.

I am absolutely against suicide, but when the alternative is this sort of National Horror, I'm thinking it's a Good Thing to internalize your pain for the few moments it takes to eat your own gun, you self-centered idiot.

Yeah, I'm talking to Cho the Ho, may you rot in hell you insufferable egomaniac.

I do so wish I could find "Hope and Healing" today, but that's probably too much to ask.

Maybe I've been too hard on the poor dear who was so eager to express to her new best friend, Larry King, that she found what I so desperately crave.

Once I killed people. In battle, and for what I thought was a good reason. As I walked the battlefield and counted the bodies, I felt a deep and abiding sense of sorrow at the total waste which is violent death.

I swore to myself I would never put myself in that dark place again.

No avail.

Once again I find myself there through no fault of my own, and the sense of waste is not lessened by the passing of years. If anything, it is increased by time and distance, and the helplessness.

What a total waste.

Jesus wept.