Today, Matt Walsh wrote a wretched blog post about Robin Williams and suicide. The internet exploded, swords were unsheathed, and somewhere out there, someone’s bad day was made that much worse because of it.
In the interest of me not wanting to spend any more of my day defending the helplessness of the depressed and suicidal, I’m going to make short work of this:
There was nothing remotely close to humanity, dignity, or decency in the things Matt Walsh wrote. Don’t trick yourself into believing that you either have to stand on the side of his purported Christianity, or on the side that rejects that Christianity in favor of the emotional void. The truth exists in the bleak middle ground where we accept the horror of suicide, but have enough common decency to recognize that the death of a man–a man, a husband, a father, not a philosophical abstraction–doesn’t exist as some sort of cosmic lesson-for-profit.
Pray for Robin Williams’ family.
Go love each other.
You think you’re prepared for this, but who are we kidding. Seriously.
Everyone expects you to be excited, but really, you’re just. not. up to it.
What’s that? The doorbell? Great.
(There’s one in every family.)
(No. Please. Just no.)
Oh, you brought three strangers with you? THAT’S TERRIFIC.
That’s it. Time for a drink.
But seriously, when are we eating?
When that magic moment finally arrives, it’s basically like this:
All I’m saying is we’re not f**king around when it comes to the last crescent roll.
And God save us all from the battle over wishbone privileges.
Don’t get me started on the food coma that’s about to happen.
Just keep in mind that it’s only one day. You can do this.
(I’m betting on you!)
So good luck this Thanksgiving, and may the odds be ever in your favor.
Originally at Rare.us
I was only 16 when terrorists drove planes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. It was such a bizarre day. My English teacher’s son was on a plane out of DC, and couldn’t be reached. Parents showed up at the school to see their children and patrol the halls–probably evidence that, like most of the country, none of us had any idea what to do. Even in flyover country, there was this pervasive feeling of confusion and fear that nobody felt the need to shake. Were we in any immediate danger, in our small Midwestern town? Probably not. But somewhere in America, people were being murdered, and we felt their fear just as acutely as someone in a more targetable city.
Last year, as I sat in my comfortable office and watched the embassy in Benghazi burn, that fear returned. It was deeper this time; maybe it was because I was older, or because I understood what those flames meant. It was in those first moments when photos of the Ambassador flashed across the screen that I knew what it meant to be afraid.
There was something so dirty about the attack on the Embassy. New York was calculation; Benghazi was the most vulgar display of violence I’d ever seen shown in prime time. The attacks on New York and DC felt directed at me only in the most abstract sense; Benghazi felt personal. Benghazi embodied a global moment of pure, unadulterated hatred that even the shock-jocks in the media refused to acknowledge.
After the towers fell, no one had the audacity to stand in front of a camera and tell the American people that there was no need to worry. No one blamed a video. No one treated the deaths of so many innocents as collateral damage. After Benghazi, though, I’d never seen so many people try so hard to convince me that international acts of animalistic brutality were inconsequential compared to competing discussions on birth control.
For the past year, I’ve been trying to figure out why, when asked, I’ll always say Benghazi had more of an impact on me. Maybe it’s because the rest of the world has been doing its best to convince me that it shouldn’t.
It’s that time again, kittens.
Today, I’ll be joining conservative activists from all over the country for Americans For Prosperity Foundation’s 2 day digital strategy blitzkrieg. In addition to attending amazing panels, I’ll be conducting interviews with the nation’s top conservatives, and providing live coverage from both RightOnline and the Defending the American Dream Summit live on (the MIGHTY) FTR Radio.
In 2008, digital outreach was big. In 2012, it was a gamechanger. It’s time for the Right to not just catch up with the online efforts of progressives, but to leave them choking on our dust. It’s time for the GOP to divorce itself from its dusty reputation and embrace this wonderful world of technology and 24/7 engagement. We can talk until we’re blue in the face about our message, our values, and our plans to return America to prosperity, but it won’t make a damn bit of difference if we’re still relying on a strategy that struggles to implement hashtags.
That’s where AFP and RightOnline comes in. This weekend, the best digital and online strategists will be gathered together in one place for a single purpose–to teach you how to kick ass online and win. There are no moral victories during election season–there are winners and there are losers, and I intend to be among the winners. Sí, se freakin’ puede.
See you all in Orlando! #tweetwemuch!
Catch all of my updates here, as well as on Twitter, The College Conservative, and Rare.
As always, AFP has been incredibly generous to me. To the incredible AFP staff, I thank you for all of your hard work. To the amazing AFP donors, thank you so much for this opportunity to learn and grow with other conservative activists.
I got bored.
Now, if I could only write about something substantial. Until that happens, here’s a picture of a cat who just can’t with all this anymore:
Here’s the live feed of the SB 5 meltdown currently happening in the Texas legislature.
Make your voice heard, Texas. #TweetYourFeet and #Stand4Life!
This is my office today. Because I can’t with this week anymore.
And it’s only Thursday. Saddle up, Third Horseman.