His Fifteen Minutes

Vincent Avatar

I didn’t want to talk about it. There are enough people talking about it. Analyzing it. Thirty-three people dead. Murdered without reason. “Without reason.” Senseless. That’s what makes the situation all the more tragic, all the more depressing. Sad. There was no reason for it. It was just spleen. Everyone involved was collateral damage to his rage.

They’re dead. He’s dead. What did it prove? Why? As disturbing, sad, and painful as these days are, the human heart is a very resilient organ. The survivors and the friends and families of the deceased will move on. Live. And cope with the tragedy and loss. He will become a statistic. His fifteen minutes will fade and he will become a statistic.

So what was the point?

The senselessness of it all is what upsets me most. Do I ever want to be able to understand something like this?

The cynic in me asks: Where will you be? What will you be doing? when this happens again?

The imagined enemy. I remember reading Notes from Underground, where the narrator speaks of a great offense that the alleged offender is completely unaware of. The narrator imagines conflict where it is only coincidence. The narrator needs conflict to justify living, so he dramatizes an accidental bump in a crowd into the greatest injustice and insult.

I am infuriated by the killer’s insistance of “victimization.” He takes no responsibility for his actions (including his own suicide). He hid behind the persona, Ishmael Ax. Being victimized (perceived or not) does not justify victimizing others. Revenge makes for a nice story vehicle but is ineffective as a solution to any real world problems.

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