Flouncing for Peace
Oh dear, I just blew a gasket on my favourite blog to post comments on and flounced.
Flouncing, for you uninitiated in the whys and wheretofores of the internet, dear Sooey Says reader(s), is when you declare yourself “outta here” and vow never to return.
Of course it was a result of one of those Israel vs the Palestinians entries.
Ironic that there’s a ceasefire in real life but the war rages on in cyber space.
Anyway, that’s old news now because I’ve flounced. No use going on and on about it. Regrets, I’ve had a few, but to flounce and return is unthinkable.
Alas, there is no undoing the gesture. Even checking back to read the many comments no doubt begging for my return is a no no. It would be like when you were young (if you’re middle-aged reading this) and you break up with your boyfriend in high school because he slept with your best friend, and slam down the phone in a gesture of finality.
Only to pick it up a second later and he’s still there and you have to slam it down again. Or worse, beg him to take you back.
None of the above happened to me, by the way. I didn’t even have a boyfriend in high school. Well, just at the end of high school. And we didn’t break up, I went to university. Also, before I went, his old girlfriend showed up about three months pregnant with his baby. And even though we’d been going out for about five months, it was fair, because I really wasn’t ready to have sex and he was 23 – a young 23. Also, a dope dealer – a small-time dope dealer.
Anyway, I read a few articles today proclaiming Hamas as the real victor of Israel and Gaza’s latest war on children, because now it’s just a terrorist organization on paper, and really only in Canada. Otherwise, it’s a player at the negotiating table with the Big Boys of war and peace.
Isn’t it always that way, after the fighting comes the loving.
Too bad about all the dead children.
Disgusting, isn’t it, the loss of young life at the hands of hoary old war mongrels that always precedes the bellying up to the peace table by those same hoary old war mongrels.
But nothing Hamas or Benjamin Netanyahu did somehow seems as bad as our own “government” loudly proclaiming to the world that Canada stands with Israel, as images of dead children in Gaza were shown on the nightly news, everywhere.
I also read a column in something called “The New Statesman” claiming that more dead Palestinian children is actually the equivalent of fewer dead Israeli children as per the new pundit math of proportionality.
Oh. Really. Well, I think you can also add morally bankrupt to the equation, sir, and please remember not to procreate.
Still, hard to top politicians a world away from Israel, safe atop Parliament Hill, not recognizing the unseemliness of siding with the Bigger Boy who killed more children, as if there’s a point to it.
Anyway, all the above to say that my skin got too thin, or it just got too nasty out there (in here?) in cyber space, knowing that real life children are being killed while grown-ups wage a war of words half a world away, or it could be that I was looking for an excuse to get more writing done – offline.
Ah, touche – who’s tawdry now…
And on that note, I’ve completed my first story for my book, which will probably never see the light of day because, of course, it sucks, blows, spews, it’s the most pusillanimous putrescent piece of crap imaginable. So yeah, I’ll put it aside for now and start on #2 (heh), which is about a one-way love story between me and an op/ed editor at the Ottawa Citizen, titled: “Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater”.
Also, my apologies for the bizarro entries coming up. I think my brain is breaking up with itself because everything real is suddenly way too much and cyber space isn’t helping me digest it any better.