Neanderpundit

Rachel Lucas asks:

“So I just want to understand why this guy’s corpse is so different from the corpses of other mass murderers, even other terrorists. Where do we usually bury murderers in the U.S.? Why is it such a big deal with this particular one? “

Well, hell I can tell you that. He was wrong.

He was wrong to bomb pretty people. These people were here to run a marathon, so it means they were fit and in good physical condition, or at least aspiring to be so…so how dare he.

He was wrong to bomb the people who celebrated his loathsomeness. They welcomed his right to his “beliefs” even though those “beliefs” are in and of themselves loathsome and toxic to human life.

He was wrong to not be an angry tea partying caucasion. This robbed them of the opportunity to use this to point out how those hateful and spiteful and stupid red state hickbillies are always the ones responsible for violence of every kind.

he was wrong not to use a gun, so they could point to guns as the root cause of the problem

he was wrong not to do this to redstate hickbilly rednecks who arent’ progressive enough to be down with his struggle man, because they deserved it, not us!!

Mindset is the reason they don’t want him buried anywhere. He’s living, breathing proof- well, he’s room temperature proof that all of their most closely held beliefs and convictions are bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. And that cannot be. So deny his body the hole in the ground, because denying the uncomfortable truth makes it go away, right?

I had my optometrist drop off a car to get new brakes and I did them last night.

I’m on blood thinners so my normal slice and dice is out of the question; I wore gloves and let the tools do most of the work, and ended up the evening not bleeding from any new orifices. For maybe the first time in my life. It was a little irritating, having to be extra cautious-frankly, I usually just try to see to it that i don’t lose a digit.

Starting to feel like a damned wimp. I once had sex while I had an actively bleeding headwound; now I’m wrenching like I’m fragile.