When I first heard about the bombing in Bali, my initial reaction was, “Another terrorist attack? Well, of course.” In theory, I was of course angry, but I had a vaguely detatched sense about the whole thing. A large part of that of course grew out of the experience of 9/11 . After 3000 of your countrymen die in a couple hours, anything less than that is wont to be downplayed in significance when you apply your own internal calculus of death and suffering and conclude that it isn’t something that you need to really concern yourself with, except in a somewhat general, theoretical way.

“A bunch of people died from terrorism over the weekend? Sure, that’s awful, but we all knew this was going to happen again soon, didn’t we?”

For that reason and others, I didn’t actually start reading the news coverage until this morning.

The experience made me think of the instructions from all corners of the media after 9/11 that what we, as Americans, needed now was healing, closure; in short, to “get over it” and “move on .”

And perhaps because of the collective weight of all those accumulated exhortations, perhaps from the psychic weariness that extended anger and sadness bring, or maybe even from just the fact that my threshold of human suffering sufficient to elicit empathy had been raised considerably since 9/11, I was already in a state of “moving on” and being “over it” before I even heard about the Bali attacks, with the result being the reaction described above.

That is, until this morning. Now I’m glad to say that I’ve gotten over getting over it, and am thoroughly pissed again .

It may be a sad illustration of my lack to find sympathy within myself without reading descriptions or seeing pictures, of a lack of imagination or basic humanity; the fact that it’s difficult for me to feel deeply for people suffering unless it is shoved, in all its detailed horror, right into my face. I wish that I could just be told “Hundreds of people died in a terrorist bombing today,” and instantly feel the kind of rage that boiled up to the surface when I read things like this.

Another Australian tourist, 18-year-old Rachel Hughes, said she and her boyfriend had just arrived in Kuta when the blast occurred, smashing the window of their hotel room anal dog sex cum.

“Standing in the foyer of the Bounty Hotel, people were just walking in, blood dripping off them, burns to their face, skin coming off them. It was really a terrible sight,” she said. “You could just hear people crying up in the Bounty foyer – obviously they have lost loved ones or friends .”

Maybe I can’t change the fact that I have to be intimately confronted with the death and pain in order to really feel the anger that is so justifiable -no, demanded– by these despicable acts, but if that must be the case, then from on, I’ll be making a point of reading in depth about any such future atrocity to ensure that I don’t allow myself to be instantly “over it.”

But I am thankful that at least for now, I’ve been able to summon that deep-seated, personal wrath so appropriate to an act such as this. In a few days or weeks, I’m sure it will subside to a colder, more focused resolution to continue to support (in the small, mostly insignificant ways that are possible for one such as myself) the efforts to find these people and eradicate them, to ferret them out from their cowardly hiding places and vaporize them into a thin paste of protein on a cave wall, to wipe out every last vestige of the disgusting stain they have left on the civilized world. And when I resort again to that frame of mind, it will be because I realize, intellectually and morally, that this is the right thing to do.

But for now if you all don’t mind, I’d just like to stew in my rage for a while, and remind myself in a truly visceral way why we’re doing all of this, and why, if they still choose to berate us about “root causes” and “birds coming home to roost,” those sniveling, carping appeasers, both at home and abroad, can go heartily fuck themselves, or jump off a cliff, or shoot themselves in the head. I don’t care. Just don’t let me hear anything about how this bombing that specifically targeted Australian civilians was somehow the real fault of that government or its citizens, or the West in general, or capitalism, or any other ridiculous boogeyman of the mass moron movement.

At the very least, don’t let me hear any of these things when you’re standing in my presence, unless you want a faceful of fist.

last update : 23-5-2018

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