Sunday, September 11, 2011

On September 11, 2011: Disappointed in My Fellow Man: a Very Harsh Post in Response to My Now Impossible-to-Ignore Feelings of Furious Disgust

On this tenth anniversary of 9/11, I have been reflecting.

Not on the meaning of the event, for I have already explored that from every angle. I know what it means to me, what it means to my family.

Rather, I have been reflecting on a great deal of what I have been reading lately on the subject of 9/11, and it has only convinced me of what I already suspected: that there is a certain frightening lack of depth, of soul, of generosity, of historical understanding, of imagination, of sophistication, of compassion, of humanity.

In place of those worthy attributes, there is a void.

What makes me say this? It is a harsh statement, after all, and deserves some explanation.

Well...

It seems that many people feel this way, mostly people from other countries, but also a great number of Americans, and in some cases (hard to believe, but true), New Yorkers. Their statements include, but are not limited to, and I paraphrase, but do not wander from the meaning:

Shut up with your infernal bitching, you spoiled Americans.
The world has it worse than you. Many places experience war, trauma, bombing, terror, atrocities.

You're a bunch of whiny pikers.

I'd rather remember the good times.
(footnote 1)

The English are stoics.
(footnote 2) Take a lesson.

Americans are stuck in the past, and can't stop whining about it.
(footnote 3)

You people make war and then complain.

You're history's cruelest monsters.
(footnote 4)

You asked for it.
(footnote 5)

It is "typically American" to over-emote.

You're a bunch of drama queens.

Why do you think your tragedy is so all-fired terrible?

Get over 9/11 already.

We are sick of hearing about it.

Your misery is phony baloney. Or at least overstated. Or at least gets too much attention.

I mean, I got over it, so what's your problem?

PTSD doesn't exist.
Or is the product of an opportunistic imagination.
Or just kinda American, in that bad way I mentioned before, you know, whiny and self-involved.
(footnote 6)

Oh and did I mention you're a bunch of selfish whiners?




Footnote 1. Pretty sure if you feel this way, you weren't really affected, and that's fine, but don't put your plastic psychopath sunshine hassle on the rest of us.

Footnote 2. By the way, if you point out your stoicism? Guess what, you're not stoical. Also, stoicism? The product of repression. Repression? Gives you neuroses and a stomach ache. Also makes you super-boring.

Footnote 3. Okay, so personal and collective history has no meaning to you. It must be fun and relaxing, living in a disconnected vacuum.

Footnote 4. Um, really? call me and I'll give you the history lesson you so desperately need.

Footnote 5. Please shut up now.

Footnote 6. Guess what. Generations of soldiers in England (!!!) and everywhere else were told in no uncertain terms to "man up" and face battle over and over again, that their anxiety attacks and numb body parts and repetition compulsion and screaming nightmares were womanish and hysterical. Guess what didn't help? People telling them to "get over it." Guess what else? Psychologists wised up and began to take it seriously. And you know what else? I will tell you what else: yes, yup, and you betcha, people can suffer PTSD after merely watching planes hit buildings, people plummeting to their deaths, a dust plume coming at them, and buildings falling at their feet.




Aaaaahhhhhhh....I feel so much better now. And I have turned off comments, probably permanently, because I don't want to hear what you have to say unless you agree with me. Because for once I can honestly say: I'm right. And if you disagree with me? You're wrong.