Jesus Christ on a piece of toast. 9-fucking-11 again. Already. Let the boo-hooing begin.
If my neighbors come around this year, wanting to sing patriotic and/or Protestant songs, in some kind of misguided ghetto togetherness thing, I will turn the fucking hose on them. I cannot believe I got rooked and guilted into that before. In front of my own house, no less. A bunch of my fat-ass, lower-class, ignorant American, tweaker neighbors, dripping candle wax all over my driveway, while singing "Amazing Grace."
And do you think I can get them to come around when I need to do one of those, um, "special" spells, the kind with the live sacrifices, requiring a certain number of people, especially to hold down the virgin? No, of course not. Where's their sense of togetherness then, hmmm? Where's the community-mindedness, where's the love, dammit? Am I not an American? A member of their community? So what if I happen to be slightly "different," let's say. If I want to commemorate 9/11 with a proper Pagan ritual, does that make me any less American? I think not.
It's intolerant bastards like you that are letting the terrorists win, damn you! I demand that you come to my house for the chicken slaughter and proper cleansing rituals and the moment of yelling! If you do not, you are not a real American! You have no patriotism, no sense of honor, no sense of duty, no sense of feeling, no viable sperm! You will be damned in the afterlife, and your children will spit after they say your name and unclean, incontinent dogs will shit on your grave, all because you did not join me in the tuneful gargling to the great Lord Zingbah in praise of our glorious fatherland! And, what is worse, you will probably vote Democrat!
Fuck me, did I mention that it's 9-fucking-11 again? Let the strident rhetoric begin. Oh, wait, that's right; it never stopped.
Update! -- My 14-year-old daughter, the Fledgling Sparrow, just came through the living room on her way to leave for school, and proceeds to tell me about how she got all teary-eyed listening to some country music station play some sappy song about 9/11. She then proceeds to tell me that I would have gotten all teary-eyed, too, if I had heard it.
I tell her "Not bloody likely. I just got done posting on my blog, slagging off all you 9/11 boo-hooers."
She then goes on to tell me what a jerk I am, how unfeeling I am, etc. Yada yada yada, heard it before. I remind her that many more people are killed by drunk drivers every year than were ever killed by terrorists, but the politicos don't go declaring a war on drunk driving, because there's no money to be made in it.
I tell her she's a puppet; The Man pulls her strings, and she responds.
She thinks about this for a moment, and then says, "Are you not wearing any underwear? You're sitting at the computer, and you have no underwear on."
Fuck me, I swear to God, she's going to grow up and vote Republican.