So, Osama is dead and people are loving it, eh? That’s okay, I guess. I mean, it’s very, very strange to cheer at someone’s death. It’s a little bit ghoulish. Now, sure, there’s no doubt about the fact that this dude used extremely shitty tools (religion, poverty and fear) to convince a bunch of dummies to do extremely evil things, and he did so as the wealthy son of one of the richest men that’s ever lived, thereby really operating somewhat above the risks and the muddy huts and, it turns out, even the caves in the Pakistan mountain ranges while his lackeys starved and slept in the sand. He killed tons of people and he expressed no remorse about it. It could, in fact, be argued that Osama is responsible for the civilian casualties in Iraq and Afghanistan (I am not arguing this, just saying that if you’re looking to heap blame on someone, this is a line of argument that you could pursue with some degree of success depending on your level of righteousness and your eloquence). But I mean, at the end of the day, rational people are cheering and partying because someone died. That’s a little weird.
Now, let’s make no mistake. I get it. I’m not suggesting that I’m some pussy who believes that no one should be executed under any circumstances or anything like that. I mean, I’ve got a family and revenge would enter very strongly into my emotional vocabulary incredibly quickly were anyone to ever harm them. I don’t think anyone made the wrong move by finding Osama and killing him. That’s a thing that kind of has to be done, but the glee is what kind of astounds me.
To use the example of someone harming someone in my family. I would probably be interested in aggressively pursuing a situation where the said perpetrator would end up dead, were that through the justice system or just through myself tracking them down. I would assume that I wouldn’t rest until that person or I was dead. BUT, I wouldn’t take any joy in their death. It may be satisfying, but I suspect that it probably wouldn’t. It’s just another death. It doesn’t change anything. It wouldn’t fix whatever they had undone around me, and it seems that in the face of crushing grief, that’s kind of the only way that it could turn around to happiness.
And as I consider this, I truly believe it to be true. There’s no amount of killing that somehow prolapses killing and makes it not killing, and there’s nothing ‘fun’ (which is the general feeling that needs to be present in me to become happy and feel like partying) about killing someone.
Am I glad he’s dead? I guess, yeah. Totally. But REALLY, I wish that circumstances were really different and I had no idea who he was because instead of being an international murderer he was just the kind of wealthy playboy that fucked supermodels and wore gold tee shirts. I feel no sense of joy that some guy got shot and dumped in the sea. I understand the desire people have to see his corpse. I think that’s acceptable. I really, truly do. That’s a different than being filled with glee when confronted with the fact that he’s dead.
I mean, I guess I’m not articulating myself too well. I’m not trying to hate on or shame anyone for however they deal with this, one of the biggest news stories that we’ll ever live through, and the images of people in the middle east celebrating after the twin towers came down were disturbing and lots of people want to retaliate in kind and I guess I understand that. But to me, and again, I’m not trying to tell anyone what to do or think, joy seems like a weird response. It’s like if someone grabbed your dick and it made you hungry. It’s fine, I guess, but that would never be my reaction and even if I watched a thousand dudes get their dicks grabbed and then suddenly run over to a thousand delis and house a thousand reubens, I’d be no closer to thinking that dick stimulation was someday gonna make me hungry. Even if the hand grabbing my dick was attached to someone awesome and the reubens looked great (and I LOVE reubens and dong grabs) I’d remain unsure of how the two things were connected.
I don’t know man. Maybe I’m crazy. I’ve got a bit of a cold, so maybe I’ll pick up the party when I get rid of this sore throat. I kind of doubt it though. Tell you what, I COULD go for a reuben, since we’re talking about satisfaction.