Friday, July 8, 2016

People Don't Matter

I'm not going to write very much about this; only what I'm feeling tonight.

I took a quick peek at my local newspaper's website today and every headline on its front page said, "Shot". Shot, shot, shot. Two babies shot in north Minneapolis. Twelve police officers shot, five killed, in Dallas. A driver pulled over by police in St. Paul shot and killed. There's more, but I won't go on.

The one thing I can say about the year 2016 is that people no longer matter. See, they aren't really people; they're "symbols". They're good for "the cause", whatever the cause might be. The fiance of the man who lay dying after being shot by a police officer didn't rush to wrap her arms around the man she loved, didn't sob over him, comfort him. Instead, she took out her cell phone and narrated the story in order to stream it live on Facebook. Maybe I misread her emotions, misinterpreted her intent; but it sure looked to me like she was more interested in sticking it to "the man" than she was suffering in grief. But, you know, it's all for the cause.

Those two gang bangers shooting at one another? Damn if those little kids got in the way. They should have known better. But at least Loretta Lynch can pull the headline out of her briefcase and bemoan the gun culture in America. Oh wait -- can't bring up this incident -- it didn't involve the police shooting innocent folk who were just minding their own business. On second thought, we just won't mention this unfortunate tale.

The (fortunately now) dead sniper in Dallas? Well, come on! Everybody knows the police are gunning for African Americans. It's about time the tables were turned. Remember, "hands up, don't shoot"? That scenario almost actually happened. At least it could have happened...somewhere...sometime. Lots of things could happen -- you don't know.

And if all these lives don't matter -- the dead policemen, the dead babies, the dead driver who reached in his glove box for his registration after the police officer warned him not to reach for anything -- well, their lives did serve a purpose. They proved somebody's point. And that's what's really important. Not that they lived, got married, had families; were innocents held in their mothers' arms, innocents with a glimmer of a future if only their mothers hadn't had the misfortune of living in north Minneapolis. Their lives and deaths make good placards for the marchers. Because we're all about our grievances. Grievance is our new religion. 

I'm sick. Sick of the blood. Sick of the talking heads on cable news who pontificate about the "deeper meaning" of it all. Sick of throwaway lives.

Just keep on marchin', y'all.

As if it really matters.






 


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