Searching For A Better Way
God's Little Tacos
In mid 1995 there was little in this world that could bring me comfort other than a pint or fifth of vodka. I was in the process of failing out of law school and that kept me pretty busy. So pretty much all I did was go to school, go to work and drink. I was doing pretty well at one of those three and not so well at the other two.
Laura woke me up early one day and I did not want to get up, I was hung over and wanted to die instead. But she would not let me be. Something, she said, was going on. I staggered into the living room and saw on the television somebody had blown up a building in Oklahoma. Hungover and stupid aren't the same thing; just very close. I immediately thought what every other American was thinking: Those damn a-rabs have gone too far!
But it wasn't Arabs. It was some guy who looked enough like me he could have been my cousin.
Apparently human hatred comes in all the colors of the rainbow.
I remember being stunned by the fact that the bomb was right below a nursery and that nineteen children had died. You have seen that picture of the firefighter carrying the dead baby. For some reason, my drink muddled brain thought of that phrase that I used for a title: God's Little Tacos. Dead children wrapped in cloth like a soft taco from Taco Bell. I have no idea where that came from, I really don't. But it was a truly sad and depressing thought.
We know who did it. We know why they did it. We know how they did it. Law enforcement agencies did their job here and did it well, even if the initial arrest was a fluke. It is wrong, self-serving and evil (evil for the harm it does to the survivors and the families) for people to peddle trashy conspiracy theories about this horror. So this crap is all the more offensive on the anniversary of this event.
Leave the dead in the hands of the Creator, let the living mourn and move on. Whether conservative or liberal all conspiracy theories like that really amount to are media vultures picking at the bones of the dead to squeeze another mile or two, another advertising dollar or two from the bones of the dead and it is simply wrong.
Blessings.
Laura woke me up early one day and I did not want to get up, I was hung over and wanted to die instead. But she would not let me be. Something, she said, was going on. I staggered into the living room and saw on the television somebody had blown up a building in Oklahoma. Hungover and stupid aren't the same thing; just very close. I immediately thought what every other American was thinking: Those damn a-rabs have gone too far!
But it wasn't Arabs. It was some guy who looked enough like me he could have been my cousin.
Apparently human hatred comes in all the colors of the rainbow.
I remember being stunned by the fact that the bomb was right below a nursery and that nineteen children had died. You have seen that picture of the firefighter carrying the dead baby. For some reason, my drink muddled brain thought of that phrase that I used for a title: God's Little Tacos. Dead children wrapped in cloth like a soft taco from Taco Bell. I have no idea where that came from, I really don't. But it was a truly sad and depressing thought.
We know who did it. We know why they did it. We know how they did it. Law enforcement agencies did their job here and did it well, even if the initial arrest was a fluke. It is wrong, self-serving and evil (evil for the harm it does to the survivors and the families) for people to peddle trashy conspiracy theories about this horror. So this crap is all the more offensive on the anniversary of this event.
Leave the dead in the hands of the Creator, let the living mourn and move on. Whether conservative or liberal all conspiracy theories like that really amount to are media vultures picking at the bones of the dead to squeeze another mile or two, another advertising dollar or two from the bones of the dead and it is simply wrong.
Blessings.
posted by Andy Ternay at 6:43 AM
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