That's the only question I can ask at this point, "Why?" The answer doesn't particularly interest me, because I can only assume that such a response will overfill the pits of my rage and the demons inside of me will crawl out through my gaping maw to tear this world asunder.
I hate the town I live in, but instead of it trying to make amends it continues to find new ways to enrage me to the point where my only hope for release is to scream inside my car at the top of my lungs.
Today, my rage came from a street lined with anti-abortion protestors. They stretched from the Sihk temple (Coincidence?) to Wendy's, a distance equal to four city blocks. Their signs read, "Abortion kills children," because, as we all know: they scoop out the fetuses with the freshly hewn femur of a five-year-old. There's more people involved in this protest than a cancer run. Imagine: if all these people got together and tried to accomplish something non-abortion related: like building a homeless shelter, or helping with an anti-drug program, but no: they want to attack imaginary foes killing imaginary babies. It's not like it's an issue at the forefront of the news. It's not like last night, someone went on abortion rampage at a lamaze class. ("Yesterday in Dayton, Ohio, a madman wielding a coat hanger broke into Rock-a-Hello Baby Lamaze Class and immediately began shoving it into the twats of several very-pregnant women..." -excerpt from the Associated Press) It may not be news, but it's all they can think about. They lay awake at night thinking about how horrible it is for fifteen-year-old girls who've been raped by their step-fathers to get abortions. They stare at the ceiling with tears running down their faces, clutching a Bible to their chests for protection. Of course, there's nothing in the Bible about abortions. There's no decree in the Bible saying, "And God did sayst: 'Thou shalt not scoopeth out thine kin with a coat hanger,'" but there's no use arguing with them. They follow a higher power: crazy bullshit. Yes, they've completely lost their fucking minds. When you're standing on a street corner with a professionally made sign reading, "Abortion is murder," that's when you know you've lost your fucking mind. Seeing your fellow parishoner across the street holding the same sign with the same glazed-over look in their eyes should help clue you in to the fact that you, yourself, are crazy. You should look at this person and say, "Man, that guy's fucking crazy," then look down at the sign you're holding and add, "Shit, I'm crazy!" Then you should drop your sign and drown your sorrows in pancakes over at I.H.O.P..
With all those people standing out there, I knew that somewhere: there was an empty church. I wanted to find it and burn it to the ground. I wanted them to see me standing in the flames with my hands raised triumphantly at my final, "Fuck you!" to them all.
Why? Why do they have to act like such ignorant, Bible-thumping stereotypes? Damn it!
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