It takes a big man to admit a big mistake. And today that man is me.
As I lay dying last week, (okay, I just had the flu but it felt like dying) I was too nauseated to read or even watch TV so I spent a lot of time in bed on my back, thinking. I thought about where I’ve been and where I’m going. I thought about how much closer I am to the end than I am from the beginning. I thought about the fact that my neighbor across the alley probably has the worst taste in music on the planet which would explain repeated listenings to the Five Man Electrical Band’s Signs. I mean, really. C’mon. Signs?
I also thought about the things that are near and dear to me that I would protect with my life, like my wife and daughter and the rest of my family, the dogs, and of course, my iPod. And my Brooks Robinson autographed baseball. That should probably be higher on the list but let’s not go there because it will only cause a needless distraction and no small amount of grief. And I thought about how much more frightening the world has become in the past five years and that maybe there is no way that we can ever feel safe again. Five years ago it was just a few Muslim extremists that wanted to kill us, but, due to our hamhanded response to 9/11 and the invasion of Iraq, now even the Canadians would kick our ass if they thought they could get away with it. Sneaky canuck bastards.
Let’s face it: everyone hates us.
But the fact that we can’t make ourselves safe doesn’t mean that we can’t make ourselves safer. We know that are a few groups who want nothing more than to see our cities in ruins, our culture destroyed, our families torn apart. As a card-carrying bleeding-heart liberal (and by the way, I actually have the card. It gets you 10% off at Ben & Jerrys) I’ve always stood up against discrimination based on color, sex, or creed (But not Creed. Those bastards should die) but I have finally reached that jumping off point in my life where I’m willing to let another group bear a bit of misfortune just so my family can feel safe and if not totally secure, at least comfortable enough to go to the mall and buy overpriced jeans at Abercrombie. And Dippin’ Dots. And maybe one of the big gooshy beanbag chairs that are everywhere.
So I think it’s time to throw in my lot with the Little Green Footballers and Tony Blankely and pretty much everyone at VDARE and Townhall and NRO and FEMA and most members of the Bush family and say that we need to lock up some little dusky people in a few well-placed internment camps to show the world that a country that has no qualms about watching Two and a Half Men and laughing also has no qualms about throwing a largely innocent ethnic group behind bars and laughing even more because it makes us feel so damn good. In fact, let’s start here.
Waddya say? Up for a little internment party? Just tell yourself that you’re doing it for kids laughing in the park, summers pops concerts, golden retriever puppies, late-night chinese takeout, and a lone little baseball that sits in a case and reads Brooks Robinson HOF’83 and would say “thank you” if it only had a larynx and a tongue.
And lips. It would be easier to understand with lips.