What's to Celebrate?

Bubba came over the other day all giddy and excited. He had heard the news about Osama bin Laden and spent the night partying and whooping it up in the streets of New York. Not wanting to deal with his drama, I was going to brush him off. But since he showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth for my benefit, I graced him with a few moments of my presence.

“Hi Debora! Didja hear the news?” We’re not talking about the myth of global warming or The Donald’s “Grand Accomplishment,” are we?

“No, of course not, but we can discuss those later. I’m talking about Osama bin Laden.” What about him?

“Well, he’s dead.” I’ve heard. So what can I do for you today?

“I was just wondering what you think about it.” You first, Bubba. What do you think? But softly, please. I have a migraine.

“I’m so sorry to hear it, Debora, but you should take an aspirin and celebrate with me and the rest of the country. That SOB is sleeping with the fishes and now we’re vindicated!” Okay then, does this mean that people can stop dying now?

“What are you talking about?” Uh, have you forgotten that there are still two wars going on?

“Yeah, I did forget for a little bit. But you can at least pretend that you’re happy, can’t you? Because you’re acting like you hate this country!” No, Bubba, I don’t hate my country. I appreciate the fact that this act will bring closure to a lot of people, but not everyone. The killing won’t stop, and the 9-11 survivors won’t get their loved ones back. And, predictably, al Qaeda is making plans for retaliation.

“But—" No talking, Bubba. I’m not done. There have been disasters all over the world lately. Tornados. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Nuclear accidents. The oil spill. Peaceful protestors slaughtered. Innocent people sitting on death row. Institutionalized rape. AIDS orphans. Still no peace in the Middle East. A large portion of the world has no clean water, let alone food to eat or prenatal care—

“Maybe you need something a little stronger than an aspirin. How about a quaalude cocktail?” Not finished! All the terrible news in the world, Bubba, that we, as a nation, seem to care too little about. Then we hear, from conflicting reports, about this unarmed man, and others, being sniped. A man that we have every reason to hate, granted. But BAM! No trying to take him peacefully, no due process… If that had happened inside our country to white people, the uproar would be deafening. Yet what do we do? Dance in the street? Congratulate the president? Shake each others’ hands? Is this what we’re teaching our children is appropriate behavior?

“But he’s Osama-bin-flipping-Laden! He killed thousands of people! I really don’t see what the problem is!” And that’s the problem, Bubba. No one sees it. No one understands that dancing in the street about a dead man is insane.

“Speaking of insane.” Call me crazy, Bubba, but remember I was the first one to tell you that going into Iraq was not only wrong, but bad for this country, long before it showed itself to be a bottomless pit.

“Yeah, you did.” You called me Psycho Witch and questioned my intelligence, my patriotism, and my belief in God.

“But not in that order…” True enough, sir. You know, we’ve wasted too much time talking about this dead man. Tell you what. I’ll let the potential for a conspiracy theory in this case lie, and you admit that partying in the streets was probably not the appropriate reaction to OBL’s getting whacked. Then let’s walk away from this topic.

“Maybe you’re right, just a little.” Maybe you are too, just a little.