Sunday, December 14, 2003
We got Saddam, murderer of millions, today. I am so happy today that I can't process it yet. I am still swimming in the warm, warm waters of the Schadenfreude Sea, listening to the cries of anguish from the folks who were dancing on 9/11:
“I love him so much, I can’t stand watching it while he’s in custody,” Raafat Logman, 23, said as he was shooting pool. “We are surprised. We are so sad,” said Sameh Aloul, 22
"We all started crying because we love Saddam and we hate [US President George W.] Bush and [Prime Minister Ariel] Sharon.
"It's a black day in the history of the Arabs. It's a humiliation."
And it gets better. The following are not cries of anguish from Baathists or Islamists or Palestinians, but are in fact actual posts from today on DemocraticUnderground.com, the reading of which almost put me into a schadenfreude coma:
Grrr... I just want to hit someone.
Justice has not been served.
...so angry I could punch a wall.
I've already come THIS CLOSE to taking my mother's radio and throwing it at her.
Pardon me, but this cheerleading for the "good" fruits of a criminal action is a f***ing disgrace.
The world is almost always a harsh, shockingly indifferent place. Sometimes--not often, not regularly, not even intermittently, but sometimes--there is real justice in the world. There is a line from C.S. Lewis to the effect that the concept of "justice" would have no meaning if there were no God:
My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?
That's what I thought of when I heard Saddam had been captured, and that his victims were rejoicing in Baghdad and Basra and Teheran and Dearborn, and that the bitter, hateful people of the world were filled with anger: that today the world saw a little justice, and, with it, a vague, flickering outline of the divine.