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May 21, 2004

Riding the Coattails of the Dead

A well-respected psychologist - who oddly resembles me and isn't really a well-respected psychologist, but plays one on his blog - has come to the conclusion that terror victim Nick Berg's father, Michael Berg, is a raving kook of the highest order, and is thus eligible to receive the whenever-we-feel-like-it World Wide Rant "Raving Kook of the Highest Order" award.

My son, Nick, was my teacher and my hero.

Although, judging from what follows, you paid about as much attention to Nick's lessons as Alan Neese did in Mrs. Burrough's 4th grade class at Oak Hill Elementary.*

People ask me why I focus on putting the blame for my son's tragic and atrocious end on the Bush administration. They ask: "Don't you blame the five men who killed him?" I have answered that I blame them no more or less than the Bush administration, but I am wrong:

I'll use my creative blockquoting to pause here and say that, yes, Mr. Berg, you are wrong. Also a wee bit on the dopey side.

I am sure, knowing my son, that somewhere during their association with him these men became aware of what an extraordinary man my son was. I take comfort that when they did the awful thing they did, they weren't quite as in to it as they might have been. I am sure that they came to admire him.

Yep, I know that when I think of people I admire, my first inclination IS TO CUT THEIR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!

No, dumbass, you see, murder is what you do to people you don't particularly care for - and your son, an American Jew, fit the bill. His generosity didn't matter. His stoicism didn't matter. His screams as they began to slice into his neck didn't matter. He was the enemy - the infidel - that mattered.

And I am sure that these murderers, for just a brief moment, did not like what they were doing.

Uh, yes, that would explain all the hoopin' and hollerin' as your son screamed and breathed his last agonizing breaths.

So what were we to do when we in America were attacked on September 11, that infamous day? I say we should have done then what we never did before: stop speaking to the people we labelled our enemies and start listening to them.

And I say you're a damned fool of a man. If you want to listen to Al Qaeda, here's what you'll hear: "become Muslim or die, infidel pig dog, Allahu Akbar!"

Now, maybe it's me, but I don't see a whole lot of wiggle room in that for understanding or active listening and hugs and bunnies and puppy dog tails and lord you are about as thick as they come, aren't you?

The greatest tragedy in all of this, Mr. Berg, is the loss of a good man, your son, at the hands of murdering terrorists. The second greatest tragedy is that it's given you a global soapbox for your mad, far-lefty kook incoherence and insanity.

Someone let me know when his fifteen minutes are up.

* Alan Neese had some sort of attention deficit disorder and had to wear ear plugs during class so that the talking of other students would not destroy his focus. He was strange, but this other kid - Michael White, I think his name was - was even more annoying in that, because he was completely anti-social and engaged no one in conversation, he never had to write out his spelling words 20 times as punishment for too much talking like the rest of the class. Yes, I still remember that sort of stuff. How sad is that?