When I first began articulating this post in my head, it was framed around the question, “When will it all end?”
But after just a few seconds of contemplation around it I quickly realized that question is quite ridiculous.
Obviously, we are no where near a point in which we can even begin speculating about the end to all this madness.
And after last night’s shootings, I am quite sure we are actually at a new beginning.
A tragic new beginning with an ancient foundation of seemingly immovable hate.
Not just for the other’s race, or the other’s politics, or the other’s finances, but a hate from where all other hate stems.
A hate for ourselves.
We Americans are like the spoiled, bully rich kid who, because he’s always had everything given to him, it is impossible for him to see that everything is all there is.
He wants more and if he can’t have it he is going to whine and kick and piss in his pants and make it a living hell for anyone and everyone around him.
We Americans have it all.
But it’s not enough.
Guns in our society are a problem. But they are not the problem.
We are the problem.
And we know it.
And we hate ourselves for it.