It’s not news: the reaction of families to the reality of Flight MH370 being a casualty of the South Indian Ocean is not news.
It’s not news: the reaction of Mick Jagger to the suicide of his girlfriend, L’Wren Scott, is not news.
The reaction of protestors to the death of Fred Phelps, however, is news, since they turned it around, as a reminder you don’t know the world you live in until you take a look at the world through the eyes of someone else.
It’s humbling, when you step back.
Fred Phelps did nothing with his life. In fact, Fred Phelps did less than nothing with his life. If Fred Phelps had laid around in a hammock, the world would have been a better place. Instead, Fred Phelps turned private grief into public spectacle.
There’s a lot of it going around, where the unimaginative exploit raw emotion for the glory of a headline. Freedom of the Press, Freedom of Speech, the Right to Bear Arms, none of these constitutional benchmarks were meant to be sneaky loopholes for the ethically challenged to use as leverage.
But the founding fathers were slaveholding misogynists with small dicks, so give ‘em a break.
It’s hard to know what matters. Is it Vladimir Putin? As little as I know about Crimea, and I can barely spell Crimea without the help of spell check, I get the feeling invading a sovereign nation is a throwback behavior of tyrants from the last century. Is it Flight MH370? As irrational as it is to have a fear of flying, I have to admit you’re really just sitting in a tube, in a seat, in the sky, reclining, with little to no legroom. Is it mean-spirited protestors, phantom hijackers, suicidal debutants, grieving devil sympathizers? It’s hard to know what matters.
Maybe we’re all just bored, secretly wishing for another war, another terror attack, another flag waving psychopath to poke Uncle Sam in the eye, so we have a new bad guy to fetishize.
Even Germany has begun making fun of Hitler. Truth is, they’re all laughable, sad men, with bad mustaches, shirtless on a horsie, courtside with Dennis Rodman, positioning themselves for the crown in the post nuclear apocalyptic world.
So be nice, God Damn It, be nice.