I’m Afraid of Americans.

For lack of a better title, I’ve had the refrain of this old number stuck in my head for several hours now:

I’m Afraid of Americans- David Bowie ft. Trent Reznor

The lyrics don’t make much sense outside of the refrain…but neither do Americans.

As people cry and speculate over the tragedies that we are spoon fed to care about via our media (although that does not lessen the tragedy, it magnifies greater, deeper concerns- honestly)… they divide themselves amongst those they are closest in how they react.

Basically, the formula is as follows:  Somewhere, where you know absolutely no one affected, a group of people suddenly are killed.

Large groups of people are attacked and killed every day, but it goes unnoticed until it is blasted from every single direction so you cannot pretend to ignore it any longer.

Unless/Until that attack has the magnified spotlight lens of the media upon it, then it is suddenly Ragnorak.

As one who earned a degree in Islamic studies…would it shock you to know that homosexuality is punishable by death in most Islamic countries?  That every single day people are lynched and killed for who they love?

Why…suddenly…do you care now?  Is it because it is here in the USA?  Do you know that gay teenagers commit suicide in a Bible belt daily?  Did you care before now?  Do you care only when you are directed to by peer pressure and having bloodstained rainbow flags waving in your faces?

Can you tell me about Stonewall?  Do you know who Harvey Milk is?  Have you ever seen/read any of Ronald Reagan’s attitudes towards treating the growing AIDs epidemic in the 1980’s where funding was withheld and AIDs/HIV was considered a “gay issue” and a way for President Homophobe to attempt to annihilate a population of people who made his cowboy boots shake with confused fear?

Put down your flags, you bleating, idiotic sheep.   Stop arguing over religions, guns, sex, and violence.

Just. Stop.


Because you are faking.  You don’t care.  You don’t know anyone in Orlando, just like you likely did not lose anyone in France. (Even I was guilty of the French Flag profile pic-filter).

This is a distraction.  This distracts you from your real life, your real family and friends and it divides you.

It divides you into people who are pro/anti:

…and countless other tiny divisions that fracture everyone further.

Our religion of many names has been fractured since it became public… Universalist vs. Folkish.  Lokeans vs. Nokeans.  European Indigenous vs. American Reconstuctionist.

And, no doubt, your feed is absolutely filled with possibly hundreds of blogs expressing some sort of misplaced hurt, rage, upset, or any other adjective for butt hurt one can express.  There are bind-runes and hexes, curses and prayers…all “asking for energy”.

How quaint… All you need to say is the magic words of “I will” and you are absolved of all guilt… Why, it’s practically monotheistic of you!

While, in your own cities, in your own towns…people are hurting, people are dying:

…and you do not care one bit.

Because no one told you to, and you don’t “lose face” by ignoring the abandoned elderly next door, or the suicidal veteran whom you find annoying when you hear sirens to stop his latest attempt to stop their own pain.

Just. Stop.

Your hypocrisy is annoying.  It hurts everyone you ever stepped on.  It itches us like gnats in swamp lands, and blisters like sunburn on the shoulders of those whom you should care about.

You want to be keyboard warriors.  You believe your prayers make a difference.

But, who among you ACTUALLY cares?  What is it, exactly, that you do for the world?
What legacy will YOU leave when you die (and none are exempt from Reaping).

I keep seeing these two verses spin over and again in my thoughts like a stone in my shoe:

Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But the good name never dies
Of one who has done well
Havamal 76

Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But I know one thing that never dies,
The glory of the great deed
Havamal 77

So.  Tell me of your great deeds.  Tell me what you have done to make a difference.  Tell me about your personal sacrifices.  Have you made any?  Have you allowed yourself to be maimed or persecuted?

Me?  I write this blog and council complete strangers to not kill themselves.
I am agoraphobic.  I have felt the hatred of Heathens across the United States, and I didn’t shrink away into invisibility as most would prefer.

I am trying to learn who is worth keeping in my life, and whom I need to let go.
While at the same time trying to help anyone who comes to me in pain who is innocent of harm.

Who are you?
Why are you crying for the Dead you never loved, and their families you will never meet?

Did you cry when your neighbor died?  Do you cry when you read the obituaries for your community of those who die alone in hospice and nursing homes each day?  Do you wail and gnash your teeth upon hearing about the thousands upon thousands who are killed young each day for the same reasons?

No?  Why not?  What makes this different?  Is it because it is public?  Is is because you believe your online ‘friends’ are waiting with baited breath to see your reaction?  To see if you take a side?  To see if you are heartless, cold, or cruel as I?

These people are strangers to you…
…just as are most of those whose eyes are closed the last time by hand.

I cried last week because a friend died.  I do not cry for Orlando.

I am out of tears to donate, and they would not be true.

Your crocodile tears may impress your friends-
-you may even measure their length and hold competitions of grief….

…but ask yourself, Why. Do. You. Care?

You are dying right now…and have been for some time.  When you die- do you want strangers you never met crying for you from long distances or would you rather have family attend your funeral?

Do you want a funeral?  Are you ready to die?
At any moment, the breath you intake may be your last.

We will all die- and not all of us will die in a blaze of gunfire and horror.
Most will die invisibly, alone, forgotten- of age or illness; of suicide or accident.

You will not go to Valhalla- You may not even go to Helheim, Alfheim, Heaven or Hell.

And undoubtedly, some people you hate might even appear at your funeral and make sure to cry the loudest, make the largest show out of your loss, and shame your dead corpse (or bucket of ashes.)

Again.  You will die, I will die- everyone you know will die.

I cannot promise you that anyone will care.  What will you do with your life after reading this?  Will you change the world?  Change yourself?  Contribute something?  Contribute nothing at all?

Will you look up from reading memes on your cell phones?  Will you visit someone who needs comfort?  Would you be a reassuring voice on the phone to someone whose voice cracks with heavy emotions from problems that directly affect their lives?

Do you know how much I love so few of you… and how very much I am growing to hate this society of lies?

Fuck you.  Fuck your tears, fuck your empty gestures, your fake pain, and your manufactured sorrows.

Fuck your inflated egos, your self-important neediness to impress strangers with faux empathy.

Fuck you for not caring about a systematic problem in our society until you are forced by those around you to at least make an effort to care.

I was a gay rights activist before it was “safe”.  I was studying how homosexuality in Iran leads to the hanging posts years before this happened- and that the only escape for them is drastic, complex surgery, oftentimes forced upon those who even express “unnatural interest” in people of the same gender.

I have loved both women as well as men.

Fuck. You.

Go back to hole in the wall you crawled from you loathsome worms called Humanity.
So back to eating your poisons and spitting out lies amongst each other.

And stop pretending to care about the same people you spit upon 20 years ago.

I will not post any flags or offer any suggestions for legislation.  I will not become reckless and fall prey to the group think of mourning for 30 people out of thousands upon thousands who have died in the name of love alone- starting prior to even the times of Shams Tabrizi…who, himself died for the exact same reasons, some historians claim.

Go away, you foul creatures- you vultures who tear the livers out of your local heroes out of jealousy and spite  who now fold your hands and bow your heads in mock pious self-rebuke when the eyes of the internet are upon you.

Just. Stop.

The Gods don’t care about your fucking prayers.
What is your LEGACY?
What have your DONE to make YOU worth mourning when you are gone?

One day, all that will remain will be your words and the legacy of your deeds- the holes left in the hearts of those with whom you shared friendship and love…

…if you are lucky, if you earned it.

Or perhaps, you will be fortunate enough to be one of a multitude to die in a tragedy, and strangers will bow their heads and cry fake tears for you as well.

“You get what anyone gets, you get a lifetime”- Neil Gaiman

Old death

Death as created by Neil Gaiman




6 Responses to “I’m Afraid of Americans.”

  1. GADDAMN; Thank you! It’s time the online mob back the fuck down. I was appalled by the mass Hex on the Stanford Rapist, not because I support him (fuck no!), but because I feel it’s just… emotionally biased media induced bullshit.

    People are taking advantage of Orlando horrible tragedy to feed their emotional demon-void … ugh it’s sickening!

  2. “What is your LEGACY?
    What have your DONE to make YOU worth mourning when you are gone?

    One day, all that will remain will be your words and the legacy of your deeds- the holes left in the hearts of those with whom you shared friendship and love…

    …if you are lucky, if you earned it.”

    That’s a good question that you might want to ask yourself, Tyrienne.
    And I hope that you do ask yourself that question one day.

  3. We don’t need the media to give us bread and circuses, we create our own. This post expresses the exact reasons why I’ve all but stopped blogging unless it’s goats (because goats are really cool) or to show off local events. We’re hosting our first local pagan community Midsummer. We’re doing it because 8 months ago I and three other people were sitting around a table and we decided to quit bitching and start stuff. Because real, personal community is about the only thing left that seems to me to be worth a damn.

  4. I’ve seen person shot and bleed to death in front of my eyes, I was target myself, twice in one day, politics involved. I will never forget, the violence, the helplessness, the fear, and the blood on the floor. I care for those in Paris, in Brussels, in Orlando. They all were people!

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