Evil, Redux

My heart goes out today to the victims of the horrible shooting over in Aurora this morning. By "victims" I am including the families of all those involved.

The news is reporting that most of the people in the theater were between the ages of 14 and 49 (depending on the report) with the vast majority being teenagers. I have two teenagers myself and cannot fathom what it would be like to have sent them off to see a movie, a late-night showing, only to learn that they would not be coming home again.

I have been near tears today with that very thought.

There are families today who are without their children, without their parents. Families who wait at the hospital, anxious, for their infants, toddlers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, even mothers and fathers. They are all victims.

Strike that: WE are all victims of this act of terror.

"What?" I hear you say. "How dare you presume to take away from their grief!" To the contrary, I want to make sure we remain focused on their grief.

Because of this event, calls for gun control and gun laws are going to increase.

Blame will assigned and fingers will be pointed, all with screeds and strident rhetoric.

Assumptions will be made about the alleged shooter: his lifestyle, his hobbies, his religion, and his politics.

Guilt will be assumed before he ever gets a day in court.

Calls will go out for stricter guidelines on violence in movies. Calls will be made to install metal detectors in every theater. Calls will go out to restrict the wearing of costumes to fantasy and sci-fi movies. Calls will be made to throw away more of our personal freedoms.

In short, there will be hysteria and a lack of reasoned response.

We will all suffer for this, and for this reason I label us all "victims" of the tragedy.

And because of the hysteria, the outrage, the rhetoric, and the hate, I am afraid that the real victims--those from the theaters, and their families--I am afraid that the suffering, pain, and grief that these individuals, these human beings are going through will be whitewashed and/or forgotten.

Instead, let us be adults about this. Do not give in to the impulses of the Natural Man.

Keep the real victims in your thoughts today and in the coming days and weeks as the backstory unfolds. Keep them in your prayers. Pray for comfort and for peace for these, our brothers and sisters. Pray that their burdens will be lightened.

Pray also for the alleged shooter.

And take a little time to pray for all of us, that we can make it through the Chaos that is, unfortunately, likely to follow. That we can make it through unscathed. Heck, pray that the Chaos will not come.

But whatever you do, pray.

Evil

I am reposting--with permission--the words of a good friend of mine, a buddy living over in Utah. He says it better that I could; my emotions right now are running too high to write coherently about the issue. I have slightly edited his words to fit my own circumstances:

I was all ready for a string of new posts today....

Then I turned on the news and was reminded that Evil exists on this earth. The black image here is my black armband, mourning the loss of two innocents: Charlie and Braden Powell.

A piece of trash father sperm donor decided to take his life and that of his two young sons by blowing up his house.

I'm referring, of course, to the late Josh Powell. He was the sole "person of interest" in his wife's disappearance in December 2009. He steadfastly maintained his innocence while acting in bizarre ways. His boys were living with his in-laws under court order; the Judge in the case said that Josh's home was an "unsafe" environment for the boys. Josh was granted limited supervised visitation.

Oh yeah, we should probably mention that Josh's own father is sitting in prison awaiting trial on charges including but not limited to posession of child pornography. We should also mention that the pictures and videos also included voyeuristic materials of his missing daughter-in-law, Susan Cox Powell.

Josh himself was ordered just last week by a Judge to undergo psychosexual evaluation and a polygraph test regarding what he knew about his father's "activities."

Shortly after noon today, the piece of trash pulled his boys inside the house and locked the door -- they ran ahead of the social worker that was delivering them for visitation. She smelled gas and called her supervisor. While she was on the phone, the house exploded.

...A little Evil has leaked out today to touch the Real World.

Nothing -- absolutely nothing -- except pure Evil would consider the intentional, pre-meditated murder of a seven-year-old boy and his five-year-old brother. The darkness of a Soul who would carry this kind of thing off -- especially a man against his own children -- the darkness is incomprehensible. There is no excuse for it, no explanation, except UTTER, COMPLETE DARKNESS.

As a father of sons myself, may I express my heartfelt condolences to both families. My prayers go out to them in this time of loss and tragedy. Madness. Senseless madness.

I'm sure the boy are finally once again in the loving arms of their mother with the loving arms of their Savior wrapped around the three of them.

Rest in peace, Charlie and Braden.

Jotting Tittles: Governor Jar-Jar and Paranormal TV

I realized it had been nearly a month since I had checked in here, so I thought I would emerge from my post-Noel hibernations. Actually, it was a combination of logging on to the internet and watching TV this morning that spurred me on to a couple of brief observations.

First up, I saw a Yahoo! News teaser on the "worst people of the year." In that teaser story was this picture of Former Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. My first thought was "Who IS that?" My second thought was: "Look at that freaking wattle!" And then my third thought made me do a quick internet search. Tell me these two were not separated at birth.... Maybe it is just me but the Governator looks distinctly Gungan to me. If you still cannot see it, look at Arnie's neck and mouth. He's Gungan with hair. And sunglasses.

Second up: I came downstairs and found the Horde watching something called "Destination Truth" on the SyFy Channel. [Aside: I trust I am not the only one out there that STILL cannot stand the 'new' spelling of their channel name. I keep wanting to call it the 'Sissy Channel.' Of course, the stupid spelling somewhat indicates the quality of their made-for-TV movies. I love 'B' movies and monster movies as much as the next man, but that dreck is purely unwatchable.] Apparently this "Destination Truth" is another in a long line of what I call "Paranormal Television." As much as I would love to believe that creatures like the Sasquatch are out there somewhere, I find it impossible to call this brand of television "Reality Television." [Aside: I suppose that for accuracy's sake I should say that the technical term for these creatures is 'cryptids.' And now you know.]I sat and absorbed this television peripherally, from the Sasquatch They hunt to the hunt for the Ahool to the hunt for a massive 8' x 3' eel-like creature in the Philippines. As I watched I asked myself a question: "Do these people really believe in what they're doing? Really?" It is the same question that I ask when I see an advertisement for a ghost-hunter series. "Really? They're spending money on this?" But then I had a realization. Just once, I would love to see one of these cryptids (or spirits) actually exist and come out of the dark (because these people are always filming with night-vision cameras) and just bite the face off of one of these "investigators." Chomp. That's all. Ratings boost. SyFy wins credibility. Instead, I am reminded of Dean Yaeger's comments from Ghostbusters:

Dr. Venkman, we believe that the purpose of science is to serve mankind. You, however, seem to regard science as some kind of "dodge" or "hustle." Your theories are the worst kind of popular tripe, your methods are sloppy and your conclusions are highly questionable. You're a poor scientist, Dr. Venkman, and you have no place in this department or in this University.

Third up: The New Years' celebration quickly approaches. As it does every year, the "year-end" countdowns and "best-ofs/worst ofs" have begun to fill the airwaves. I am compelled to ask: Am I the only one that is utterly and completely IRRITATED this crap? I loathe these programs. I detest them with a passion. I dislike them even more than I do the "human interest filler" stories on the local news. I cannot believe they have any use or value other than to kill time and keep writers and producers from actually doing their work and writing real stories. Ugh. Thank heavens for the DVD collection. I think I will wear out the DVD player between now and Sunday.

Anyway, thanks for letting me ramble. Feel free to leave me your own thoughts. I will try and check back in before the last year-end countdown airs. If I do not connect with you again, may I extend to you my hopes that your Christmas was wonderful, that your New Year will be prosperous, and thank you for your readership and friendship. Shalom and God Bless.

NaNoWriMo Update: Across the Finish Line

Well, another year, another novel. Yep, that's right. I am done. As of yesterday afternoon I crossed 50,000 words and kept right on sailing. After verifying my word count I wound up with 52,843 total words. Like I mentioned yesterday, it is largely crap; if I were to edit it down, I doubt I would have half as many words. But it is done.

I will be honest: I didn't think I had it in me, not this year.

Now I know I do. Or did. Thank you all for your thoughts and well-wishes you sent my way over the past month, my friends and readers. Thanks for all your words of support. I felt them keenly and they helped immensely. I could not have done it without you.

Most importantly, I could not have done it without the support of my LW and the Horde. They tolerated my long hours staring into space interrupted by frantic typing and breathy mutterings. I am sure at times they were certain I was hearing the " a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton," especially when I would "pace...the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury...."*

They no doubt fancied me mad.

I am mad no longer. At least, not like I was, and no more mad than usual.

I am myself again, gentle readers...and ready for a long nap this weekend. Let us all get there in safety and sanity, eh? God bless you all.

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*The Tell-Tale Heart, with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe.