Tag: Politics

Humor, Links, Weekend

Weekend Links

“…it was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials.”
― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

Every single person I have met or spoken to, in person or on the phone, has asked me to comment on election. In pitch meetings, in coffee shops, random markerters. It’s been surreal. Lots of conversations with lots of inspiring female friends have been good to process initial anger, writing has helped organize thoughts, and work has been good to keep things feeling normal. But the great takeaway for me this week is that voting isn’t enough and anger needs to be harnessed. I’m going to be speaking up more and more importantly looking for ways to act more for causes I care about and learn to be a better ally.

In the meantime, we’ll return you to mostly regularly scheduled topical content next week, pending any other major socio political shocks. But I’m sort of begging 2016 to give us a bit of a break for the holidays. This has been a rough year, universe!

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Roxanne Gay says much of what I feel.

In a relatively recent conversation with a family member I opined that, for all I am strongly left leaning, I do not dismiss conservatism. I think there are intelligent and compelling cases to be made on a number of issues–none of which seemed present in this election cycle. I opined that the “elder statesmen” of the party seemed to have vanished and with them a range of skills and experience in politics, negotiation, and compromise necessary for the sake of more broadly accepted policy and collective governing (by which I mean republican democracy). I may be a liberal, but I do not cheer this: I find it dangerous. Hence I found this piece from just before the election worth reading. Curious to your opinions in the comments, kittens.

There were some cracks put in the ceiling, never fear.

Sharing one more time for good measure, because yikes.

Things are going to have to get awkward for a bit, kids. Buckle up and get to work.

Get inspired.

You also a bleeding heart liberal? Find some causes and donate. If you can’t give money, give time.

And finally, I’m willing to wait and work for it.

I would watch the heck out of “The Jewish Pirates of the Caribbean.”

So, this is apparently where the professional promised land is.

Planet Earth II has started here in the UK and this clip from the first episode is the stuff of inspiration/nightmares.

Ha! (h/t Savvy)

Finding some optimism in this medical story.

 

Feminism

The Woman Card We’ve Been Dealt

“We still think of a powerful man as a born leader and a powerful woman as an anomaly.”
― Margaret Atwood

Still processing my thoughts, and I’m trying to stay classy about it but the honest to god first thought I had the morning after was, “Wow. America really doesn’t like women.” Do I mean everyone? Of course not. Do I mean explicitly? No. Next to no one in this country is running through the streets with “Down with women!” signs or stroking cats evilly in a dark room somewhere, contemplating wrapping us in burkas.

I mean that as a culture, women are often instinctively reacted to as unworthy of being believed, supported, or followed. From rape survivors and wage equality to work leadership and our own health and care, we are not considered trustworthy in making decisions, telling truths, or seeking advancement. Suspicion and wariness are often the default. Our narratives are questioned before they are listened to much less believed.

rankin

I did not vote for Secretary Clinton because she is a woman, though goodness knows I found the idea of the first female president breathtaking. I don’t think most people who voted against her did so because she is a woman. But I do think the culture and undercurrents about and towards women played a significant role in how she was perceived and treated by media, her opponents, and a lot of the electorate.

As women, almost every day, we see examples and stories of how our ambitions are threatening and (worse!) unattractive, our stories of victimization are suspect, those of us needing help are lazy or manipulative or moochers, our desires for control over our bodies are antagonistic or selfish, our expectations of work life balance are unreasonable, our emotions are unstable. We are not trusted. And I cannot help but see much of this inherent distrust in how Secretary Clinton was viewed and treated in this election. Her ambitions were unseemly, her cautiousness weak, her outspokenness offensive, her experience invalid, her whole candidacy insufficient and suspect.

Am I partisan? Yes. I have seen examples of sexism throughout my personal and professional life, and in the lives of women and girls I know and respect. These experiences of course inform my point of view and my politics.

But I don’t necessarily think that means I’m wrong.

*This post expanded on comments left on a Broadside post. 

Expat

Where Do We Go From Here?

“The private life of men of power isn’t what we expect, sometimes.”
He jerked up his chin. “People have some very odd illusions about power. Mostly it consists of finding a parade and nipping over to place yourself at the head of the band. Just as eloquence consists of persuading people of things they desperately want to believe. Demagoguery, I suppose, is eloquence sliding to some least moral energy level.” He smiled bleakly at his boot. “Pushing people uphill is one hell of a lot harder. You can break your heart, trying that.”
– Lois McMaster Bujold, Komarr

The Brexit vote was when I realized it was an actual possibility. Until that point I had dismissed him as ludicrous, a tangerine wannabe demagogue with absurd hair and even more absurd ambitions. After the vote I never discounted him again, but I didn’t think he’d win. He couldn’t. His language was so ugly, his platform xenophobic, his sexism proudly displayed instead of sheepishly passive, that I thought it would be his eventual downfall. Like so many people, I’ve been reeling to see how wrong I was.

The first words said to me by a Brit today, preceded by a cautious look, were, “My god. Your country.” I flinched.

My country, yes, but one that I don’t feel in particular harmony with at the moment. What Mr. Trump seems to have tapped into is very real and painful fear and resentment and I don’t dismiss that. If anything, I think the one thing his campaign should get some credit for is helping to reveal that we as a nation to not have our **** nearly together as we would like the rest of the world to think. We scratched our surface and found a lot of damage under what turned out to be a thin layer of gloss.

But even in spite of that I didn’t think he would win.

I’ve been very open about the fact that I found Mr. Trump’s campaign both ridiculous and repugnant. I am baffled at how a privileged seeming-narcissist, several times over a failed businessman who somehow apparently retains an obscene amount of money, a bully, a braggart, and self-proclaimed prophet of self-interest managed to convince anyone that he would be the champion and voice of the dispossessed. I don’t get it.

I am not particularly afraid of Donald Trump individually, indeed I’m wondering how he will find the office of the president in actuality vs. the perception of the office. History shows us that many men may covet thrones, but seldom do they covet the accompanying desks and paperwork. His temperament, crassness, impatience, utter lack of humility, and apparent inability to focus make him, in my opinion, imminently unsuitable for the role. I anticipate he will rely on a bevy of advisers for support, which is not unusual in and of itself until you review their CVs; these men (mostly speaking) and their self-avowed agendas do frighten me.

Whether out of genuine conviction or simply because they saw a way to leverage rage into power, or some poisonous mixture of both, these people who he has chosen to surround himself with (or have managed to surround him, I’m unsure which is the case) have stoked the fires of racial resentment and misogyny. They have purposefully fanned flames of mistrust so that even reputable facts and data is suspect or rejected if it does not support opinion. Science has been dismissed, minority groups targeted, women attacked. The jury is out on whether some have tried to wield the power of non-elected offices and positions of information privilege in a biased way.

I am baffled that so many of the same people who eight years ago decried then-Senator Obama’s “lack of experience” as disqualifying and his candidacy as divisive, are now lauding a reality TV personality who kicked off his campaign accusing a whole community of being druggies and rapists–before going on to mock or attack the disabled, veterans, PoC, women…basically every facet of the population besides white men. I think a lot of people have been sold several ideas in this election (walls, unconstitutional religious tests, sweeping statements of action that exceed the limits of the office) that will likely never come to be. I wonder if the anger will eventually turn back against the hand that has fed it when these promises don’t materialize. I wonder if only promises would have proved be enough to calm fears of and resentment against a changing world. I wonder which is ultimately worse.

Brexit was only one side of this. Mr. Trump’s victory is just another. There is a rising tide of nationalism, xenophobia, and rabid fear of a world that is getting smaller and closer all the time. This tide is what I am afraid of. Intensely. But even seeing that this is the big picture, the election feels deeply and painfully personal to me.

My country has followed the election of its first black president with the election of a man who has been endorsed by the KKK.

The glass ceiling remains. My country would rather see a man elected who incites violence, speaks in racial dog whistles, lies outright without shame, and brags about sexual assault among other misogynistic speech, than a woman.

My country is divided. Mr. Trump has run a campaign of disenfranchisement and divisiveness and now has to bring a country together. Good luck. Both political parties have engaged in intense partisan rhetoric and actions over the last decade, but my opinion is that the right has invested far more in fanning fears and resentments in an effort to win back power. They have actively engaged in rabble rousing and now the rabble is roused. Anger may be vindicated, but I don’t believe it will simply go quietly away.

We’ve elected a reality TV personality. That’s humiliating. Politics and entertainment have long been mixed, but this is downright dystopian.

I’m disheartened. I’m afraid for the implications for the LGBT community, existing legal rights for women including abortion, minority communities, and others.

I genuinely thought the power of fear, distrust, and any number of -isms, was weaker than it is proving to be in my eyes. I believed my country looked different, thought differently than it is proving to do. I will answer calls for unity, I will take Secretary Clinton’s gracious concession speech words to heart, that “fighting for what is right is always worth it.”

But I am tired. I am disappointed. And I don’t think the problems raised (and in many cases purposefully manipulated) in this election are resolved.

Feminism

Incendiary Monday: Lady Rage and Internal Conflict

“Most books on witchcraft will tell you that witches work naked. This is because most books on witchcraft were written by men.”
― Neil Gaiman

I don’t know much about the history of assault allegations against President Bill Clinton (though I’m trying to research it to be informed) but my opinion, my experience at a police department, and my own persuasions around women’s issues tells me the right thing to do is believe a woman who comes forward with a rape or assault claim until evidence proves otherwise. Period. And so, until I read enough creditable reporting to convince me otherwise, I’ll accept these allegations as truthful.

The allegations that Secretary Clinton threatened Ms. Broaddrick or others are trickier for me as what I have seen has been largely reported on a platform that is quite literally hand in hand with her opponent’s campaign. I’m unsure if/where propaganda and spin begins, or even if it’s ethical for me to try and parse between the allegations against one person and another. I don’t think this allegation is as credible and I’ve not seen nearly enough to back it up yet.

(Usual disclaimer: I’m always open to my mind being changed here and I admittedly don’t know a lot about the allegations of threats against victims. Send me your links or suggestions of where I should seek out creditable reporting on this to be better informed.)

However.

There is a long, ugly history of trying to make women culpable for the actions of men. Whether blaming skirt length as a provocation to rape, questions over consent, or–no biggie–Biblical narrative, this is a problem that goes way back. I cannot help but see this in attempts to make Secretary Clinton culpable in her husband’s actions and it makes me angry.

I am angry that in 2016 in the developed world, the best way to attack a woman is still through sexuality. I’m even more angry that the double standard is such that you can still effectively attack a woman through someone else’s sexuality.

I am angry that Mr. Trump can make explicit remarks about his own alleged actions, and Secretary Clinton is expected to account for an entirely other person’s actions in response.

I am angry that the sort of language heard on the released tapes by Mr. Trump has been deemed “locker room talk,” as if that somehow makes the idea of sexual assault okay or more acceptable–at least in conversation. His history is being reviewed and some unsurprising parallels to his language are starting to emerge, but more importantly, it doesn’t matter if men do talk like this in private (and I don’t for one minute believe most do), it’s still repugnant.

I am angry that so many of the responses on the part of his supposed colleagues who were hastening to abandon him cited the feelings of their wives and daughters as reason for withdrawing support. Yes, it is admirable that these (mostly) men are putting themselves in the shoes of their loved ones. But if they wanted to make a moral argument, they should have been able to put themselves in the shoes of women who had no relation to them whatsoever long before this, in reaction to any of Mr. Trump’s decades worth of comments on women (and Muslims, and people of color, and…). Choosing to cry foul now holds no moral sway with me. Women shouldn’t be related to you in order for their experiences to matter.

I am angry that women still need to state this fact.

 

Expat, Humor

Performing Patriotism

“It is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen.”
― Aristotle

Watching US patriotism shaming from across an ocean and as an expat is a really enlightening and thought provoking experience, especially in an election season. If you don’t perform patriotism the way a person or group wants you to, the rage machine that can be and often is mobilized against you can be fierce. The group of my friends who are into sport are currently up in arms (on both sides of the issue) about Colin Kaepernick’s decision to sit for the national anthem. A couple of weeks ago people dragged one of the most celebrated female athletes in the country both for her hair and her forgetting/choice/who knows to put/not put a hand on her heart during the same national anthem. I remember a brouhaha a couple election cycles ago about the fact that a candidate wasn’t wearing a flag pin on his lapel and what that said about his inner commitment to the US constitution. Pick a current topic of policy (or lack thereof) in the current presidential campaign and enjoy the flurry of commentary about how the candidate in question is fundamentally un-American.

I grew up in a military family, living on or near military bases multiple times in childhood. I remember how the national anthem was played at the close of day, during which everyone in earshot would stop and remain still for the duration. Flag ceremonies were de rigeur. The symbols of national identity were everywhere, up to and including my father’s collar. I consider myself fairly patriotic, even though I am openly critical of my country and the many challenges it faces in living up to its own ideas enshrined in revolutionary documents. But outside of the structure of the military, civil service, and local/federal government life, I also don’t see the been or benefit in some of the hyper patriotism (not to say nationalism) I see in the US displayed by many civilians. I find it strange, for instance, that the national anthem is even played at a football game, which has nothing to do with the body politic or any workings of government at all.

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And I have been really disheartened to see a strain of American discourse weaponize patriotism–or rather how others “perform” patriotism. The vitriol heaped on a football player for exercising the very rights in question has baffled me. I’ve been far, far more angry to see a convicted rapist walk free for good behavior after serving just half of a six month sentence (ridiculous in its own right). In the election cycle, the hyperbolic scrutiny and wild interpretations about this candidate’s or that’s loyalty to the government has frankly veered into the realm of the bizarre. Meanwhile there has been a notable lack of policy debate about how the government should apply in people’s lives.

Perhaps it has to do with my experience with faith and religion, but I view patriotism in very similar ways to belief: something deeply personal, highly individualized, and fundamentally uninterpretable by other people. I can both criticize and love my country. A candidate for office cannot be evaluated based on jewelry. Flag ceremonies are insufficient barometers of loyalty. Sitting for the national anthem is not an act of treason. Neither is failing to place an appendage on another body party. There is no person or entity that can accurately measure devotion of any kind in another human and I’m struggling to cite an instance where a person or entity has tried without a whole host of interior motives behind them.

Now as a “stranger in a strange land” again, this time in the secular sense of being an expat I sometimes wonder if this commitment to displays or performances of patriotism is even good for Americans as a people. Does the devotion to the outward trappings actual result in devotion to the underlying principles? I have personally found that display is more often is tied to ideology than ideals, and political ideology that lacks the ability to be challenged is frightening to me. If history shows us anything, it’s that that way danger lies.

I’ve heard more than one American here in Britain talk disparagingly of British patriotism as being “tepid.” By comparison the Brits certainly are less loud about it, but most I’ve met are privately, staunchly proud of their nation. They acknowledge conflicts or disappointments with aspects of government or history or any number of things, and are perfectly willing to criticize themselves, but woe betide any outsider who may try to do the same. Americans are just as fierce about outside criticism but we are, strangely, equally or even more fierce when criticism comes from within in my experience. I’ve seen Yanks more likely to turn on one another than any outsider–I think that inability, at least in my opinion, to accept internal criticism more than anything explains the ridiculous and ineffective state of American politics at the moment. We seem hell bent on presenting a united front to the world, and willing to descend to insane levels of infighting in pursuit of it.

I don’t have any solutions to this problem except to say that I don’t like it and it disappoints me. I hate patriotism shaming and at a core level, I am mistrustful of anyone who partakes in it. And, as nationalistic sensibilities spike all over the world, I cannot but wonder if it’s dangerous.

Humor

On Notice

“The test of good manners is to be patient with bad ones.”
~Gabirol (Solomon ben Yehuda ibn Gabirol), The Choice of Pearls

It may be true that the general attitude of Small Dog Enterprises is, “If you haven’t got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me,” but today I’m calling it, minions.

Calm it the hell down.

The ridiculous political hyperbole, predictions about the end of the society/religion/freedom/whatever, slimy gloating over a rival’s defeat, threats to move to another county/state/country, and especially the nasty comments calling for overthrow, revolution, and apparently the death of not a few elected individuals (shame on you!), all make the problems we face worse.

Knock it off.

Stop trying to out scream the opposite of whatever team you’re on and express a little patriotism and loyalty.  Commit to continuing to make your voice heard in the political process and stop calling each other Fascist/baby killing/Socialists or illiterate/uninformed/hate mongers.  Constructive criticism is welcomed, well thought out reflections are encouraged – claiming the world is ending is not.  Honestly, people, a little objective perspective, please!

Minions failing to comply immediately will be sacked.  Aunty C. stayed up very late last night and woke to find a lot of nastiness swarming through her various circles (some of it directed at her) and she is in the mood to disinherit a few people.  She also hasn’t had her tea or a very filling breakfast, which as you know has lead to various unfortunate episodes in the past.

Humor

Anarchy! or Political Process!

Don’t you Remember,
The Fifth of November,
‘Twas Gunpowder Treason Day,
I let off my gun,
And made’em all run.
And Stole all their Bonfire away.
– English Bonfire Day Ballad (1742)

English minions should have spent yesterday indulging in some harmless arson to commemorate the preservation of Parliament (at least the Lords) and the failure of an assassination plot against the king.

American minions are forbidden from following their English friends in arson of any kind today, no matter how high tensions get.

And can we just have a moment to appreciate that she’s nailing that sign with a gun? It was a simpler time, kittens.

 

Humor, Husband, Marriage

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

“There are many men of principle in both parties in America, but there is no party of principle.”
~Alexis de Tocqueville

You know, sometimes I take a lot of things about J. for granted (he’s a really impressive specimen), but now and then his stellar points are highlighted.  A friend recently took me aside to ask if J. and I are politically in sync, because she suspected we weren’t and wondered how we dealt with it.  Election season has come to her house and she and her husband are not exactly aligned.  I was torn between thinking, “Oh, look, we are the very model of a modern [major] marriage,” and, “Ha!  Fooled another one!”  But on reflection, I was reminded again just how much I appreciate J. for the fact that he profoundly respects my right to disagree.

Working at a police department gives me ample evidence that not all marriages are like this.  Our congregation, nice as it can be, often provides examples that not all marriages are like this.  Even among some friends I’ve seen relationships made of people who do not respect the right to have differing opinions.  And this has always bothered me because it seems like such a basic human thing – if I demand the right to think and believe what I will, without reference to any other person, surely that means I have an obligation to render than same right to others.  My marriage is like that, all my close friendships are like that, but is it a commonality or a rare thing?

It is shocking to me how many people in marriages, partnerships, and friendships do not give one another the right to disagree.  How do you get through the day, much less an election season!  Every opinion is a potential battle, every thought a potentially traitorous action – it must be exhausting.  I know it is, I’ve seen so many people exhausted by it.

J. and I are not politically aligned (he’s center, I’m left of center), we’re not identical religiously, and widely divided on sports – but it doesn’t matter.  Our ethics line up, the values we look for in others we find in one another, we are a team.  When we disagree, we assume that the other person has come to their opinion through thought, personal experience, and logic, and we do not call one another idiots, bombard one another with new clippings (of varying degrees of authenticity), or rail against the other.  We do not make it a project to overhaul one another consciences.

I used to think this sort of relationship was normal.  I’m starting to wonder if I’m lucky.

Sound off, ducklings, I know many of you have wonderful friendships and relationships unaffected by dogmas of any kind.  Have you ever been in a situation where dogma made a work relationship, friendship, or family situation uncomfortable (goodness knows I have!), and how did you make it work?  Restore my faith in people during political open season!

Humor, Linkstorm, Weekend

Friday Linkstorm

“I’m not at all fully granola.  But I am a bit crunchy, politically speaking.”
– C.

Women’s Politics edition, with food!

I occasionally tease you with politics, ducklings, but I’ve recently been a bit gobsmacked by the politics of gender and sexuality.  Here’s the ever fabulous Caitlin Kelly’s take on Rush Limbaugh’s latest verbal spewing and how misplaced the latest conflagrations on women’s reproduction rights (largely orchestrated, chaired, and debated by men) are compared to some of the other things our country is dealing with.  Limbaugh gives me heartburn, I long for the day he’s taken off the air.

From birth control to motherhood, here’s a piece, “Losing the (Term) Baby Weight.”  No plans on spawning in the foreseeable future, but I’m still digging the sentiment that a new body, changed by huge experience and personal change is “substantial and meaningful” and not something to be hated or worked against.

And straight through to childhood.  Ah, my youth!  Dressing up in cute little uniforms, camping, selling cookies… participating in back-street abortions, promoting alternative sexual lifestyles.  Man, second grade was awesome!  Puh-lease.  This is a week old story, and the gentleman in question has since said he regrets his letter, but I’m still hopping mad about it.  For your consideration: here’s a picture of me, destroying Western Civilization, aged six:

Pictured: subversion.

Did you know that this is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week?  I have two friends who either have or are recovering from eating disorders.  It can be a complicated to understand and to be supportive, but the best place to begin is by educating yourself.  Here’s a good post to start, for some information about awareness and personal insight into the complexity.

A long lost short story by Charlotte Brontë has been discovered.  With nary a Byronic hero in sight!

Grilled cheese sandwiches have always been my favorite and I love experimenting with different cheeses, breads, and spreads.  If you’re an addict like me, here’s a couple of types to try if you’re brave enough.

Janssen’s homemade ranch dressing recipe contribute to my goal to buy and eat less processed food.  Thanks, as always, m’dear!

And talking of food, would you use this?

And that, as they say, is that!  What are you up to this weekend, kittens?  Margot and Wrench are checking out wedding venues (she’s already bought a dress and it kills me that I can’t show you guys pictures!), I’m taking on some shopping assignments for J. (a sacrifice, my dears, but the things we do for love), and I’ve got a godfamily dinner on Sunday.  Apart from the weather, which turned snowy and cold very suddenly, I’m happy as a clam.

Family, History

Ten Years On

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.  And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.
– Friedrich Nietsche, Beyond Good and Evil

In 2001 my family lived on an American military base on a godforsaken little island in the middle of the Pacific ocean.  The joys of government service, n’est pas?

My day began at 4:30am when I and two other kids attended an early morning meeting for teenagers.  Only one of us had a driver’s license so we carpooled together to this meeting, back again to catch a bus at 6:30.  The island was tiny but the roads were so bad that it took over an hour to get just 30 miles to our school.  I got out of school at 2:30pm, then had soccer practice until 5pm, and then back onto the bus for a ride that zigzagged back home and took longer than the initial ride to school did.  I stumbled through the doors sometime between 7 and 8pm, did homework, and fell into bed.  I was a shockingly well behaved teenager, but in retrospect that might have been because I was consistently exhausted.

September 11, 2001 didn’t start out too differently.  That morning I climbed yawning into the car and the three of us drove off to our meeting.  As we passed through the gates we noticed far more men in camouflage than usual, but chalked it up to some sort of training exercise and weren’t too alarmed when the heavy bars slid shut behind us.

But when we got to our destination, the youth leader was standing outside her car.  Shivering.  On a tropical island.  The three of us braced for bad news, but even we weren’t prepared to be told that the United States had apparently been attacked.

Remember, we lived on a base and our parents were employed in the military  or government of various countries.  A million thoughts ran through my head: Are we at war?  Will my family be separated?  Will they send me and my siblings away?  Is it even safe to travel?  We have dozens of planes and ships stationed here – are we a target?  And then, finally, how will I get home?

We weren't let off the base for days. And those of us who didn't have work to distract us watched this, over and over again, for a week.

It turns out that the base had utterly shut down, we could get off, but they weren’t letting anyone back on.  But we had a secret weapon, my Dad’s considerable rank.  We called him and he escorted us on base, and when we were stopped at the gates and denied entry, my usually mild mannered father snapped, “This is my daughter and she is coming in.”

That was when the fear really hit me.

10 years later that fear has actually largely dissipated.  The world is the way it is.  The nature of my father’s profession meant that we were frequent travelers and though the fear of terrorists never stopped me from getting on a plane, it would a lie to say that it never intruded on my travel thoughts and plans.    I grew up in government and military circles which has meant that for the past ten years much of the people I knew were at war or at least directly affected by it, and not in ways confined to CNN or BBC news blips.

And now, 10 years later, the man who largely masterminded that day is dead.

It’s odd, especially since our hatred and fear of him has cooled somewhat.  Mine has anyway.  We’ve had other things to think about.  Recessions, booms, elections, family, going to university, getting married, finding a job, etc.  My life moved on while he hid in a mountain somewhere, hiding from half of the world and shunned even by some of his former allies who found that supporting him came at too frightening a cost (“Yes, of course we’re still pals, Osama, but the tanks are really mucking up the neighborhood so we’ll have to see less of each other…”). 10 years later an uprising of people, largely my age, overthrew tyrannical governments in his area of the world, or are still struggling to do so.  They are the post 9/11 generation too.

Part of me thinks he should have had a trial and be made to face his victims.  Part of me thinks that you can’t make a man who believes with all his soul that his vendetta of violence and blood is good realize that it is evil, no matter how many witnesses you call.  Part of me thinks an assassination is a cowards way out, and part of me is fiercely glad he wasn’t treated like a leader or military commander but as the rogue operative he was.  And part of me wonders if a man like him actually dies – he’s at the bottom of the sea, but his network is thriving and hate and ignorance are still winning in many parts of the world.

Frankly, happy in many ways as I am (and isn’t that an odd thing, to be happy because one man in six billion is dead!), it’s odd to live in a world without him.  He epitomized treachery and evil, now he is gone.  But not really.   He is dead, his ideology is not.