Wednesday, September 15, 2004

I didn't get the last word

I hate not getting the last word in. If I can't win an argument, I at least try to come to some sort of agreement before stepping back from it. Last night, I was unable to do either of these things.

I made a comment about being afraid of the return of an abominable practice, the burning of heretics. When referring to this, I mean it literally, purely, and in its original form. I am speaking directly of a large, dominating mass of people rounding up other smaller, non-dominating groups. Once these people are imprisoned, they are then given a chance to "repent" sometimes, but mostly, they're strapped to a stake in some public place in town, and made an example of (in mass quantities) BY SETTING THEM ON FIRE. While they're still alive. So that people can see their loved ones die in agony, and the smell of charring flesh invades everything for miles.

Anyway, I made a comment about being afraid that this practice would start again, and I was told that it already has. War was cited. People's homes being destroyed when they were nothing but innocent bystanders was made reference to. These things are terrible. Yes, war is bad. War is bad! It solves problems by using force, and there's no guarantee that the more reasonable side has more force than the other. It's a terrible thing when families who've done nothing but live their lives in an unlucky location lose their electricity, or their source of groceries, or water, or the only home they've ever known, but that's not what I'm talking about.

I gave in last night, I shut my trap. Because the horrors that do exist are bad enough. I don't want to belittle them by whining about how it's not the specific thing I'm afraid of.

But deep down, I'm petty, see, and it's not.

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