Just when I'm filled with self-righteous contempt for my intolerable living situation, some damned terrorist has to go bugger it up.
I've spent the last two weeks or more bitching to all who would listen about all the trailer trash in my neighborhood blowing things up for their own reptilian amusement. After this morning's events I feel a little ashamed.
(Not totally, since the local dumbasses are still dumbasses no matter what happens in the rest of the world.)
But just imagine: You're riding the bus or train like you would any morning, sitting there half-asleep or reading the newspaper or lost in a blissful IPod world, and kablooey. Your little corner of the world blows up. You may now be: just scared shitless; covered with someone else's blood; looking at the stump where your hand used to be; dead. Dead is probably the least traumatic option, for you anyway.
Guess a few fireworks aren't that bad.