Fury, wrath... urge to destroy.

I travel to and fro in the Internet.

Sometimes I find things which irritate, some with anger, and occaisonally things which make me angry.

Yesterday I was at Washington Monthly and found

http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/archives/individual/2004_08/004572.php

It was in the irritation category. The topic started with the Schlessinger Report and moved to torture as a way to get information. You all know how I feel on that one.

Today I went back, to see what reply my comments had gotten.

Anger wasn't the half of it. I am coming down now, starting to lose the twitchy fingers and heaving stomach of adrenaline. I still want to smash things, to vent all the pent up energy of my fight response, but I'll get better. I'll drink some more coffee, eat some yogurt, maybe some chocolate pudding (breakfast of champions) and wish I could go out and work on the garden.

But I'm pissed.

Yes, I'm pissed at "Charlie" who got me worked up (but I told him off, go and read it. ctrl f and Terry K will get you in the neighborhood, if you don't want to read the first 130 odd posts, before I get involved. If you do that, scan up, a bit).

But I am more pissed off that such attitudes are so prevalent.

Saddened too. Not to hurt anyone's feelings, but Abu Ghraib was hard, because people I knew (well, with whom I felt the level of knowledge correspondence gives) said, mostly unknowing, that they thought me a monster, because interrogation must require torture.

And to have someone accuse me of being somehow lax, because I won't practice torture, well lets just say it's a good thing it was said at a remove.

I'm not always upset.

Last Place in Athens

Before you think this a cruel thing (thanks Geoff Arnold) read this:

In 1992 I remember reading a story about the last-place finisher in the Barcelona marathon that completely blew me away. I'm indebted to Robert Pera for finding an online account of the story of Mongolian runner Pyambu Tuul. It's quite possibly the most extraordinary last-place story I've ever heard.

At a press conference Tuul answered quietly and calmly. Through an interpreter he said, "No, my time was not slow, after all you could call my run a Mongolian Olympic marathon record." That was an excellent reply I thought.

He carried on. "And as for it being the greatest day of my life, no it isn't."

The reporters craned forward with their notebooks at the ready. Tuul said, "Up till six months ago I had no sight at all. I was a totally blind person. When I trained it was only with the aid of friends who ran with me. But a group of doctors came to my country last year to do humanitarian medical work. One doctor took a look at my eyes and asked me questions. I told him I had been unable to see since childhood. He said 'But I can fix your sight with a simple operation'. So he did the operation on me and after 20 years I could see again. So today wasn't the greatest day of my life. The best day was when I got my sight back and I saw my wife and two daughters for the first time. And they are beautiful."