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Thursday, July 28

Year Of The Dog


Do you remember where you were in 1994, and what you were doing?

I do.

It was the best year of my life. I was working for my first radio station, slogging away at 5 bucks an hour, up to 80-90 hours a week (only about 35 of that "on the clock"), I was learning radio, I was writing my ass off (okay, granted, most of it was dirty jokes and commercials, but at least it was part of the job description), I was doing things in the production studio that were blowing the minds of quite a few higher-level radio geeks, and I had a circle of friends that felt like family. And yes, we got rather shit-faced on occasion, but it was almost all good. The radio station wasn't perfect by a long shot, but it was the best job that I'd ever had, or ever would have, which tells y'all a lot about my resume.'

I remember hearing something, vaguely, in the news, about Rwanda, but I didn't pay enough attention or nobody spoon-fed the information to me in the right way, but I knew that it was severely fucked-up and that we (the United States) weren't doing DICK about it. And then, as 23-year-olds are wont to do, I got wrapped-up in my own personal and professional dramas, and forgot about it.

Most likely, I'm one of twelve or thirteen people on the planet who haven't seen "Hotel Rwanda." Until tonight.

Y'ever been humbled?

I don't just mean the kind of "humbled" that you get by being dumped or cheated-on by your significant (or one-night-stand-gone-wrong) other. I don't just mean the kind of humbling that comes from standing in the long-ass line at the New Orleans unemployment office. I don't even mean the kind of humbled that drives you to open a vein in a plasma center, just to put gas in your vehicle or food in your stomach.

I mean wiped out. Eviscerated. Vivisectioned. Made to feel smaller than the first time that you see the Atlantic Ocean. Made to feel like the most insignificant speck of dust on a dot of flyshit under the naugahyde seats at the bus station.

That's what this movie was like to me.

Being born white & Southern and NOT a mouth-breathing trogolodyte or kuntry-klub klansman means that I have known, all of my life, the horrors that have been rent upon Africa by white people.

Yeah, yeah, I will never know what it means to be black in America. I will never feel what it means to be black anywhere. But at least I give a fuck.

I feel like a big ol' piece o'shit right now. I dunno if that's too foul for a blog front page, but there it is. While I was going to concerts and playing DOOM and watching television and just being a knob, almost a million people in Rwanda were murdered. For what?

For bullshit, that's what.

The only difference between a Tutsi and a Hutu is that the Belgian colonists told them that they were different from one another. That's it. Paperwork. Eeenie-meenie-miney-moe. And hence began the race warfare in a country that had almost recovered from the colonists when all hell broke loose.

It really makes you realize how fucking trivial our lives really are in this country. It also makes you understand HOW so-called Americans can not only CONDONE the mass murder of "BROWN PEOPLE" in Afghanistan and Iraq (and Kuwait, too, btw) --- but to ENDORSE IT.

Because they, quite simply, just don't fucking CARE.

There were no real differences between the Tutsi and the Hutu except that the Belgian massahs TOLD them that they were different and then the Belgians favored one over the other, so that generations-long resentments built-up. So they then began "ethnic cleansing" (much like Chad & Sudan today) by killing their own PEOPLE.

Hence the analogy between the Hutu and Americans. Brown people don't "look like us," right? So that makes it EVEN EASIER.

Everybody knows that Anntichrist S. Coulter is an avowed atheist. And most of y'all know why.

But I was partially raised by the last two GOOD Baptists on the planet, my maternal grandparents. My grandmother was so glad when Bill Clinton got the nomination, because not only was he SOUTHERN, but he was a SOUTHERN BAPTIST.

Needless to say (?), Nannie was more than a tad pissed when Bill let the republicunts catch him with his dick hanging out. She was pissed at Bill for being a 'ho, and she was pissed at the republicunts for wasting millions of tax dollars on the witch-hunt. She never said it outright, but if Baptists did excommunications, Bill's ass would've been TOAST. Okay, granted, with the neanderthal, recidivist sexist-pig THUGS who are running the Southern Baptist Convention nowadays, that would be more like a blessing than a curse, but Nannie wasn't anything like THOSE MORONS. She was genuinely broken-hearted when Bill couldn't act right.

My grandfather, btw, was a Baptist preacher. One of the last good ones. Franklin Graham ain't tick-piss upside of my Papa. But then, Papa wasn't a republicunt, either. How any BORN Southerner could be a republicunt, I will never understand. Papa was one of those old-school preachers, the ones who actually WENT OUT into the world to TAKE CARE OF PEOPLE. Giving his money to the poorest in the congregation. Giving his food to the hungry. Cutting the grass of widows or the sick. He wasn't perfect --- he chain-smoked Salems --- but he was a helluva lot better than these fag-bashing douchebags that call themselves "baptists" nowadays.

Bill Clinton didn't just screw up because of his sexual addictions. When it came to Rwanda, Bill Clinton tucked & taped and acted like the wussiest tranny on the planet. Bill Clinton pussed out.

Now, I know, most staunch Democrats will cry, "HERESY!" and want my voter-registration card burned.

I was born a Democrat, I registered to vote on my 18th birthday as a Democrat, and I will, most likely, DIE a Southern Democrat (an endangered species, I might add).

But watching this movie, "Hotel Rwanda," made me SO fucking ashamed to be an American. I know what little that we are ALLOWED to know about the attrocities in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Guantanamo, and that makes me ashamed as well. Let's face it, kids --- this was never about "defense" any more than it was EVER about "democracy." THIS IS *NOT* A HUMAN-RIGHTS CAMPAIGN.

Sure, sure, they can talk about school supplies and take pictures with all of the little village kids that they want. It will never change the genocide that WE ARE COMMITTING RIGHT NOW. It will never change THE WAR CRIMES that our country has committed in our names. It will never change the fact that this fake-ass war has never been about anything but GREED AND COLONIALISM.

"Hegemony" is too kind a word for it.

But in addition to VietNam, in addition to Cambodia, in addition to the horrors in the Middle East that WE HAVE COMMITTED --- we will always be guilty of abandoning Rwanda.

Almost a million dead.

Bill Clinton broke my heart tonight. What little faith that I still had in that man, that post that I put up here about him helping, what? A THOUSAND kids with AIDS? How fucking naive was I.

I never knew that we, as a country, through our government, "the good guys," back then --- we signed the death warrants on almost a million people. We didn't know, and we didn't fucking care.

Bill Clinton is not only no Baptist, he is no Democrat.

Go ahead, light the pyre, I don't care. I've said what I had to say.

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