Not PC at all

I’m not like other people.

At least, not like the people who compete against each other for enough limelight to show off what they’re like. Not that I’m averse to showing off (though I do have some reticence to having anyone realize that’s what I’m doing), but if I had an audience to deliver a message to, I’d choose a different message.

My workplace has its own Facebook page, and I track it regularly because there are announcements that can affect me. Today — which I should have expected, but I hadn’t actually thought about it — there was a September 11th retrospective, people talking about where they were on the date of which this is the 18th anniversary.

My entry, when I posted it, contained a mention of something you don’t much see anyone talking about anymore, because it was stuffed down the memory-hole almost instantly: the recollection of watching footage of people in Jordan and Gaza dancing in the streets and handing out candy in celebration. It’s not constructive to notice people rejoicing in the simultaneous murder of thousands of Americans. It’s not tolerant, it’s not multicultural, it’s not … not … not non-Islamophobic.

Yeah, I know, nowadays even pointing out the historical fact (I saw the footage) is hate speech. But I remember it, and I won’t be not-remembering it just to cosset the bristly sensibilities of people I hold in contempt.

There were a lot of memories out today. I read all I ran across, not just from my co-workers but wherever I found them in online postings. Stories of courage, of tragedy, of loss, of people coming together in unity and mutual support as their response to an unspeakable atrocity. I’m fine with that, but my own response was something different. It was, in fact, precisely the response that led me into the Army and into as many combat theaters as I could manage before officialdom decided I was too old to keep going:

I just wanted to kill all those motherfuckers. All of them.*

I did as much as I could, through three combat deployments. I made what contribution I could, and was pleased whenever that contribution bore bloody fruit. But I wish I had done more. I wish I was still doing more.

I wish I had killed thousands.

And I hope there are a lot — a LOT — more out there who feel exactly the same way.

*No, not all Muslims. As I have previously observed, Muslims are people, and most people are primarily concerned with getting on with their lives and doing the best they can for themselves. However, all those who think murdering infidels is not just fun but holy — oh, and also butchering any Muslims who show insufficient enthusiasm for murdering infidels — need to be rooted out and expeditiously shot, and their rotting corpses interred in coffins filled with pigshit. Allahu akbar, goatfuckers.