#pacifisim

Scripture tells us that the picture of judgment presented to us by Jesus is of Dives sitting and feasting with his friends while Lazarus sits hungry at the gate, with the dogs, the scavengers of the East, licking his sores. We are Dives. Woe to the rich! We are the rich. The works of mercy are the opposite of the works of war, feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, nursing the sick, visiting the prisoner. But we are destroying crops, setting fire to entire villages and to the people in them. We are not performing the works of mercy but the works of war. We cannot repeat this enough.

On November 7th 2018 Progeria cut Murray off in traffic. Progeria thought nothing of it she was a hard working single mother who just wanted to get her groceries home so she could make dinner for her kids Osteoporosis and Tetanus. But Murray thought about it, Murray thought it a lot.

Murray began to follow Progeria around covertly for months gathering intel for his revenge. He figured out what stores and ATMs she went to and how often she went to them. He learned her daily routine:

Progeria gets up at 6 to make breakfast for herself and her kids. She leaves for work at 6:45 in her white 2014 Chevy Equinox with roughly 75 thousand miles on it. She arrives at Enterprise car rentals between 7:15 and 7:25 each morning with little variation. She had worked there for 5 years and 4 months when first observed. Between 12:30 and 1:00 She takes her break returning between 1:15 and 1:45 either goes to Dunkin Donuts or Subway for lunch. Leaves work at 3:30 every day and then goes straight home to help her kids with homework except on Wednesdays she goes to the Fairplay and Family Dollar to buy groceries. Returns to her home between 4:15 and 4:30 everyday time varies on Wednesday. Usually makes dinner upon arriving home and then sits down to watch prerecorded NCIS on her DVR. Usually goes to sleep between 9:30 and 10:00. On the weekends she stays in unless she has to drive her kids somewhere or if she goes on a date.

Murray learned all this in the span of a 2 month stakeout and carefully planned when he would strike.  Making copies of her car and house keys incase he needed them. Progeria’s work was having a Gala at the local high school in early January. On what should be a joyful night for Progeria is when Murray planned to strike.

The day of the Gala came and Progeria had gone out and bought a beautiful new evening dress for the event and had got her hair done at the salon run by Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. She was very excited for the dance and she planned to walk because the high school was only 3 blocks away. She left her house at 7:45 and started walking to the high school not knowing it would be the last time she walked unassisted for a long time.

When she was a block away Murray stepped out of a dark alleyway wearing a duster and approached Progeria silently from behind brandishing his custom Colt 45. Murray was 3 feet away when he yelled “Turn around you miserable sow!” Progeria turned around quickly and was greeted with a 45 caliber bullet tearing through her stomach and small intestine. She shrieked in pain as blood and stomach acid oozed from her wound. Murray lined up a second shot and fired hitting between the 23rd and 24th vertebrae crippling Progeria. Her legs gave out immediately and she tried to crawl away as her guts continued to make stains on the sidewalk. “Please stop” she pleaded as Murray walked closer and closer. Murray bent down and put the gun against Progeria’s head between her eyes the hot muzzle leaving burns on her forehead. He pulled the trigger and the gun went click and he said “ Your life is mine but I don’t want it yet” and he walked away leaving Progeria to suffer alone with the knowledge the law wouldn’t save her.

Many people looked at what had happened and did nothing for about an hour until Alan Richards owner of The Glitter Puddle called an ambulance. It took 46 hours in the emergency room before Progeria was out of critical condition. 46 hours of constant fear that Murray would return to finish the job. But he did not return and after 3 weeks in the hospital Progeria began the grueling physical therapy to help her walk again.

After three years of Physical and mental therapy, and living in constant fear that Murray would return to finish the job, Progeria regained the ability to walk days before her two kids graduated high school. She was so excited to be able to walk up and hug them after they had received their hard earned diplomas. But unfortunately for her that’s when Murray had planned to strike.

On the day of the graduation Progeria was getting dressed before the ceremony upstairs in her room. She heard her front door unlock thinking “that’s odd the kids should be at the school already” and looked out her door to see Murray standing there with a grin and a gun in hand.

Before she could scream Murray shot out both her kneecaps forcing her to the ground. Then she screamed as tears streamed down her face. “Why are you doing this to me” she cried. Murray just wordlessly plugged another hole in Progeria’s spinal column this time ensuring her arms were useless as well. Hot blood was pooling on the floor as Murray dragged her to the edge of the staircase. Planting one foot on her back and the other on the back of he rode her down the stairs like a surfboard knocking out many of her teeth. As consciousness began to slip from Progeria, Murray finally said “It’s a shame your kids are gonna see an empty seat at graduation” as he pulled a 12 gauge Remington Magnum Express out from his duster. He placed it under her chin and fired exploding her head like an overripe watermelon splattering on the floor and walls and leaving a fine red mist that hung in the air for a minute.

Murray then went and stole a gallon of milk and some microwave mashed potatoes from Progeria’s refrigerator and went home to watch hockey with his buddy Judas. He was happy to know that a score had at long last been settled decisively.  

War is hell, and today more than ever. Although high-tech weapons make it a videogame for some, those same weapons make it unbelievably destructive for many more. Whatever valor was once associated with hand-to-hand combat has long since disappeared due to gunpowder, and the massive slaughters of the twentieth century have made it increasingly difficult to romanticize the death and misery war…

'We British have invented the name of 'Prussianism' for a doctrine which we are finding very ugly and hateful. But we should not forget that it is the very doctrine with which our British Anti-Suffragists have made us very familiar during the past ten years and which has been enunciated even by the Prime Minister.'

All the great states, she observed, are 'Prussian' in so far as they are organised on a militarist basis. In a male-dominated world ('Men make wars, not women') conflict is generated by a combination of traditional conception of honour, the pursuit of material gan, the drive of vested interests, love of domination and what is often called glory, fear, indolence of mind, pugnacity, love of hazard and adventure, and disgust with the drabness of daily life.

Norman Angell also noted the 'Prussianism' of the British Empire, that is to say, its triumph through strength, war, conquest, guile, mastery and so on. He observed the curious double standard whereby Germany's anthem was deemed sinister, but not 'Rule Britannia'. Furthermore, Bernhardi's war-glorifying works in spirit whilst, for instance, Spenser Wilkinson, the Professor of Military History at Oxford, could, with impunity, brazenly proclaim Britain's imperial mission of world domination.

Indeed, as the war proceeded, observed Angell, the problem of distinguishing the antagonists became ever more difficult, propagandist rationales ever more threadbare, since war of itself produced, as it were, a 'Prussianisation' of everyday life in all parties:

'We may be fighting for democracy, freedom, parliamentary government, against despotism, government by a military caste, and restraint of free speech; yet, if we are to wage the war efficiently, our government must be autocratic, free speech must be suspended, and the military order must have arbitrary power.'"

War is not the answer.

Some people say war is life, freedom, liberty.

And, in a sense, it is.

But it is also being choked by death.

Death squeezes all the life out of it and weaves it into a tightly bound act.

Something blocking what really happens.

Covering the carnage, making it something you can only know personally.

Each person leaves the country with pride in their hearts.

They sense the greater good,

feel like they are a part of

that.

But they come back, after it all, their hearts seeping with black blood,

torn with guilt,

stabbed at by each painful memory.

And then there is everything that happens in between.

Crying as you watch your two month old baby through an artificial screen

because you could be touching them, but you're trapped in a web of death.

Crying because you know this may be the last time,

before you're replaced by someone else,

courage staining their heart.

Crying curled up somewhere, back breaking from all the equipment,

feeling your lover's arms around you but never

getting to touch

those arms.

And as you die you realize that you're part of a machine,

the government created it,

as a band-aid to cover all the problems back home,

the street corners filled with begging people,

families getting evicted because they couldn't pay the bills,

fast enough.

Unemployment rates rising.

Is it necessary,

to go off and rip apart foreign lands,

when our own country is equally as messed up,

if not more,

because we refuse to follow a simpler way of life?

War is never a game played by some stuffy old men.

And if it must be compared to a game then let it be a dangerous one.

Because war

is never

Today I responded to a viral image saying that only those who benefit from violence can practice nonviolence. I can criticize this in many ways, but I am going to focus on the implied value that isn't even mentioned.

That violence is the instrument of liberty and peace. And that those who participate in it are noble people.