There’s a lot of stuff I could be writing about these days. I could be writing about our forces killing 40 people at an Iraqi wedding. I could be writing about a pattern of abuse that was set in motion from Rumsfeld on down. I could be writing about how a guest on Bill O’Reilly’s show last night called for the U.S. to formally declare war on “The Nation of Terrorism,” which I think would be slightly difficult to find on a map. I could be writing about right-wing nostalgia for the days of Japanese internment camps. I could be writing about the latest anti-gay rhetoric on right-wing sites, spurred by the Massachusetts marriages, that goes something like “If we could only figure out what made them gay in the first place, we could switch them back and everything would be peachy-keen. Plus, no new ones!”
But I find I have a lot of anger these days. And when I try to write about this stuff, I can’t even form my usual sentences. Kim “the rags are fucked” du Toit talks about the “red curtain of blood,” and I must say in this case I think I understand what he’s talking about. Where I used to feel depressed, now mainly I just feel angry.
I know this is not healthy. Maybe I need a stuffed GWB and a wiffle bat. Or at least some better movies to review.