weeping

London is my sister, brother 1/2 of my family city. I walked in the rain home and thought about how crises brings out the worst in everyone, those who can only stomp their feet, bang their hands against furniture, yell at people, be inconsiderate to people, and make you realize who cares for you and who does not. Makes you realize who's in denial, who will cry, and those who will ask and show concern. I admit I cried intermittently through work. Had this attack happened in Egypt or when it happened in Spain on 3/11 I did not weep. But I have brothers and sisters in London, two of whom barely exited two tube stations that were affected by this morning's explosions. I had seen them wed one summer in London, and heard their pains and joys. Ma'shallah, they were safe, healthy and unharmed. It was a near call for them, and others were not so fortunate.

I saw Bush in stern proud stance behind Blair as they condemned the attacks as 'barbaric.' Then came the anger. Anger at Bush for going to war in Iraq, creating a quagmire, and possibly making the U.S. and our allies less safe. I was angry at Blair for going along with Bush and being what my British brothers and sisters call him, a 'poodle.' Bush's poodle.

I wanted to wring the necks of those who perpetrated the attacks, find them and execute every dirty martial arts maneuver I knew through my 12 years of training on them with my bare hands, my il ee bong (nun chucks), shangai sword, bo staff, cane, sai, belt, uniform ... and so on. Bastards, fucking hell bastard that give Islam a bad name and kill innocents for a cause they will never achieve (if we ever figure it out).

Anyway, its martini time.