Sick Joke

Yesterday I was scrolling down my Facebook feed and saw that someone on my list ‘liked’ this lament to God about the deaths of Patrick Swayze, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson, ending with a not so subtle allusion to a thought the same fate might befall our president. I thought it was in poor taste for the first part. Tacky. And the last bit… well, I moved on to stop myself from thinking about it.

Not much later, I saw another friend ‘liked’ the group protesting this page. Hmmm… was this another Facebook hyperbole? I clicked on both pages and was… horrified. I get the argument that this was just a joke. I can even hear the voices of a few Republicans telling me to get a sense of humor… or calling me on my hypocrisy. The girl who dressed Bush up in a coconut bra and grass skirt… well, yeah. I know. I get what you think you’re saying. Because I believe whole-heartedly that humor is a much less harmful way to deal with emotions of anger and hatred. Mel Brooks set the example for me with his mockery of Hitler. That the only way to deal with evil is to humiliate it.

I saw George Bush as evil. I hated him. Okay. I admit it. So I took Mel Brooks’ advice and well… you’ve probably seen him. But if you haven’t….

But… that’s making him look like an idiot. I didn’t make a joke about him dying. I didn’t pray that an unfortunate fate would befall him, loathe him as much as I did. And I remember hearing someone say that once, wishing something would happen to Bush. I remember it because it made me cringe. Not just because he was our president. Because he is a father, a husband, a son, a brother. A douche bag. But that doesn’t mean that I would ever wish him to die and for his family to grieve.

This is still… just Facebook. Like I should take any of it seriously. Don’t I often make the argument that it really doesn’t make a difference? Like that stops me from joining all sorts of pages and expostulating my opinions on my status. 

But people listen to me. People disagree with my opinions. People agree with my rants. They provoke conversations, arguments, self-satisfied determinations of reality… they are still ideas. Ideas can be nothing but dissipated air. Ideas can start something.

The idea of wanting someone to die – anyone to die – even someone I hate … that’s disgusting. The fact that anyone (and sadly there are a lot of anyones) thinks that is funny is scary. I don’t care what you think about Obama. To find it amusing that a tragic end should befall him is nothing less than the coinage of a sick brain.

If you want to dress him up with a coconut bra, I have one in a box somewhere. I’ll give you that. A okay by me. But this sick joke should not be tolerated. 

I’m breaking my Facebook addiction tomorrow because I think it’s important to stand up against it. And no amount of cyber voyeurism is worth accepting hate.