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Fear for my country


Sunday, 16 September, 2001, Kilkenny Ireland—

Here in Ireland, the show of solidarity [with America after the terror attack of 2001] has been overwhelming and impressive. Friday was a national day of mourning—this town shut down and I mean shut down. One fast food, one small shop. No pubs. No nothing.

One of my fears has been that that little bastard and his puppetmasters will squander* the goodwill offered by the civilized world.

I'm worried too about the names we're hearing again. Henry Kissinger... Newt Gingrich. Newt Gingrich. Henry Kiss-my-assinger. Where have they been, shamed into the background in times of peace? Gingrich is back on TV smiling—smiling. Sure, he's happy. These mother****ers are licking their lips. William Safire is beating the wardrums like he's glad we have an enemy, any enemy.... And who should appear from the near-grave but Billy Graham. Always bad to see.

I read the other day that 21% of Americans believe we should retaliate immediately, while some 70% believe we ought to wait until we identify the perpetrators.

I fear for my country; I fear they are largely boneheads. Idiots. I find the mourning starting to mix very quickly with a sickening feeling of "wait a minute... why are all those flags so important?"

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* This happened....

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