- I lay there and think about Chris. His contacts at the newspaper would be good to have, for publicity, but his guilty conscience would do us in. I took him with me to church, six months ago, on a day when the topic was "the problem of homosexual indoctrination." We stayed in the parking lot, and I slit every tire on every car. Chris gave his own sermon, to me, on the unhealthiness of anger.
I gave him a stack of fliers for a roadside assistance service. It was run by a man who funded anti gay marriage commercials on TV, and in the newspapers. The slogan at the top of his flier was "Let us help." One went in the windshield of every slashed car.
Chris didn't appreciate the beauty of turning our enemies against one another. "They aren't our enemies," he said on the subway ride home. "They're human beings, just like you and me."
"I think they'd disagree about the 'you and me' part," I said.
No, Chris isn't going to get involved in this. Richard is asleep beside me, and I climb out of the bed as softly as I can. Slitting a few tires and inciting a few angry phone calls is nothing compared to what these people deserve. I'm tired of the moral high ground. We've already got more than our share of Gandhis in "the movement". We need a General Patton.
No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor bastard die for HIS country.