Taking a nasty diversion from my usual writing, I need to explain why I can’t finish my humor assignment that is due. I’m mad. And nothing will quell this anger until I yell at two dead people – the sub-humans who murdered two police officers yesterday in Las Vegas. I want to stare into their lifeless, useless faces and ask them why they destroyed good families and shocked a town that tolerates every kind of behavior, except this.
“You shot police officers as they ate lunch,” I would scream. “You did this in front of families who will be scarred and scared forever. You shot and killed another innocent person. They you took the coward’s way out in a suicide pact. You are worthless and evil and you don’t deserve a burial. Your bodies should be tossed into a pit and burned!”
After my rant, I would sit down and cry. I would cry for the parents, wives, and children of the victims. I would cry for a society that has grown accustomed to such violence. And, I would cry for my religious upbringing that taught me God forgives, and if these damaged individuals confessed their sins with their dying breaths, their souls would be welcomed into the same heaven that holds my grandparents. The same heaven that welcomes Officers Beck and Soldo.
I won’t list the murderer’s names because they don’t deserve recognition. Their evil, cowardly act will go down as another senseless crime. I don’t blame guns or video games or drugs or bad parenting. I blame a society that tolerates horror, defends murderers, criticizes law enforcement officers, and glorifies bad people.
This week my son will wear a uniform over a bullet-proof vest, and he will protect and serve the citizens with exemplary talent and extraordinary dedication. As I have every day of his entire career, I will barter with God to protect him on his job. Now, I will add another plea that he’ll be safe when he stops for lunch.
Writing usually makes me feel better, and I’ll admit the image of yelling at the corpses contains a certain dark humor that softens the rage. That’s the most violence I can do. I can’t bring back the murdered police officers but I can go out today and wave at cops, hug a child, tell a funny joke, and not allow evil to defeat my positive attitude. Then, maybe, by late afternoon I can write humor again.