Revolution in America

The Associated Press story about civil war in Syria made Page 5 of the midsize daily newspaper where I work. I’d watched the Donald Trump/Hillary Clinton debate a few days before.

There are people in America who say the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants. There are people in America who say they will fight, with guns, to keep their guns. There are people in America who say they want a revolution to “take back their country.”

It’s one goddamn pleasant fantasy, is what it is. You get your gun, dress up in camouflage and defeat the government.

You do not get shot in the belly and bleed to death. Soldiers from the opposing side do not invade the lawns in your suburb and gang rape your 9-year-old daughter or murder your son. You fire a couple of shots, and prayer is restored to the schools, Hillary Clinton is hung from a sour apple tree, all the immigrants are forced to learn English, and abortion becomes illegal again.

The revolution ends before the big game starts, and cable television is free. America is great again.

The Associated Press, covering a real civil war in Aleppo, writes:

“Desperate residents describe horrific scenes in Syria’s largest city and onetime commercial center, with hospitals and underground shelters hit by indiscriminate gunfire that the U.N. said may amount to a war crime.”

I guess those guys won’t be home in time for the big game. I bet most of the sports bars have exploded and there is a critical shortage of hot wings and potato skins. War is hell.

Their civil war has lasted for more than five years. More than 250,000 people are dead, and half the population has had to seek refuge in the nearest safe place.

If you want to get in on a real civil war, one with all kinds of gun-totin’ fun, maybe you ought to head to Syria. I’m sure if you looked at Facebook for 30 minutes, you could figure out which side to join.

Go be a hero someplace else.

Here, every time someone complains about something in America, you snarl, “Why don’t you go back where you came from,” or “Why don’t you move to some other country.”

Well, why don’t you leave instead? Take your guns and your snarl and go where the fighting is hot and you’ve got a good chance of dying. C’mon, you’re a hero.

I’ll stay here, and so will the Syrian-American guy who owns the gas station where I go for gas. That guy lived your dream, and he hated it so much he ran away. What a punk! Not like you. You WANT civil war.

You can’t spend the rest of your life practicing your fast draw in front of the bedroom mirror while your wife’s at the grocery store.

Go to Syria. They’re looking for heroes.