Friday, June 18, 2004
What am I to say? Kill the bastards? Well, at this point the leader of them is already dead. Kill the rest of them? Well, hopefully, we’re working on that.
Unlike the last time (gawd, do we get used to it that easily?) I have made no effort to find the video. I have seen the pictures posted at Drudge. My eyes are harder now. Much like they were when the Columbia blew up. Now I’m colder and more methodical, like the mindset one takes on when killing rats. It’s just one of those things that’s got to be done. Do it. Finish it.
The only disruption to this mindset is when somebody screeches for the rat’s rights.
I think I’m close to closing out on any attempt to analyze this situation. It’s reached the level of pest control and merits no further actual thought. Any obstacles to that reasoning are just those foolish nitwits that don’t think right. Screw ‘em. They, like the Islamofascists, can’t be reasoned with.
The time for high-minded debate has, I think, long since passed. They’re not receptive, and I begin to think that my words are only there to sooth my own soul, to convince me that I did try, after all.
A man. A husband and father. Wife and children pleaded for his life. And what became of it? Only what I read was worse than what I’d seen the “last time.”
Unlike the last time (gawd, do we get used to it that easily?) I have made no effort to find the video. I have seen the pictures posted at Drudge. My eyes are harder now. Much like they were when the Columbia blew up. Now I’m colder and more methodical, like the mindset one takes on when killing rats. It’s just one of those things that’s got to be done. Do it. Finish it.
The only disruption to this mindset is when somebody screeches for the rat’s rights.
I think I’m close to closing out on any attempt to analyze this situation. It’s reached the level of pest control and merits no further actual thought. Any obstacles to that reasoning are just those foolish nitwits that don’t think right. Screw ‘em. They, like the Islamofascists, can’t be reasoned with.
The time for high-minded debate has, I think, long since passed. They’re not receptive, and I begin to think that my words are only there to sooth my own soul, to convince me that I did try, after all.
A man. A husband and father. Wife and children pleaded for his life. And what became of it? Only what I read was worse than what I’d seen the “last time.”
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