I’m sitting in a cafe waiting for a hearing and there is a radio playing. The DJ said, “It’s 1982 and THIS is on the radio.” It then proceeded to play something bloody awful and I have to wonder Why? Why is it we are listening to something that was on the radio on 1982 and should not have been? It shouldn’t have been then and it shouldn’t now. It is invasive. It’s unpleasant to listen to. It’s making my insides crawl. It’s still going on right now. I will be so glad when it is over because I still have an hour before my hearing and I need to stay in this coffee shop a bit longer.

How Comfortable Would I Be With My Words?

On Christmas morning I received an email from a friend that I am sure she did not write, but passed on because for some reason she agreed with the sentiments behind its words. The email was undisguisedly racist and sounded like something Bill O’Reilly or one of the other hate radio mongers would write. I, being the sort who has no compunction about speaking up at emails like that one, wrote my own diatribe against it. I was pretty angry when I wrote it, and the force of my anger is behind the words.

This morning another friend who commented on my comments said when he writes something when he’s angry, before sending it he asks himself if he would mind his words if he read them a year later. That’s probably a good policy, especially for someone like me who can be a bit, mmmm, unrelenting when on the offensive.

So for the email I responded to yesterday, if I ask myself how would I feel about my words if I read them a year from now? Just the same. And I would probably get just as mad.