The B. S. M. G. Report


Jonathots Daily Blog

(4280)

It is much too easy to establish the will

To take a life and learn to kill

BAD

Yes, it’s bad.

He’s dead.

I didn’t know anything about him. Other people did. They were convinced he was so evil that he needed to be destroyed.

His name was Qasem Soleimani.

He was sixty-two years of age.

And now every small city in America has an anchor person who has to learn how to pronounce his name.

He was like a big general who spent all of his time thinking up ways to scare the world around him so the philosophy and lifestyle he held dear could achieve primal consideration.

SAD

So it is. It’s sad.

It’s absolutely sad that we felt the need to blow up this fellow because of what he’s done, and of course, what he might do.

And see—here’s where it gets me.

A killer kills. That’s bad.

But a killer is killed. That’s sad.

Because one of us—who are supposed to be the good guys—has to do the killing. And no matter how righteous we may think our cause is, there were people before us who thought they were just as righteous, who killed and ended up losing what they had because of it.

I’m not going to wave my flag so hard that I start believing that killing is all right. It is not.

That’s what makes me…

MAD

We’ve become killers.

We have gone into another country and killed one of its high officials and said we had the right to do it because the work he was doing for his country was wrong. Or at least, we considered it wrong.

Yet if I spent five minutes in that country, and they explained to me that we sent thousands of troops to their land—to kill and maim—would I be in danger of being convinced that their cause was just as plausible, if not noble?

When a killer kills, and a killer is killed, we become killers.

We can talk about it, debate it…

GLAD

…but here’s the weird thing.

I’m glad we killed him.

I’m not proud. I don’t want to dance on his grave.

But if my choices are BAD, SAD, MAD and GLAD—well, I’m more glad.

But if I could make one request:

Let’s just stop for a while.

Killing, that is.

 

 

 

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