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11:42 am | 11 February 2003 | l'Attaque

Dudes. I am so tired of hearing about terrorists. There�s supposed to be some new attack threat this weekend (I also enjoy the way in which the news and media are all, "New Details of Terror Plan Revealed!" as though a. it's some new Hollywood Celebrity Diet Plan, and b. as though the terrorists are slowly revealing details to build suspense--it's not a movie preview, you freaking idiots. "Get Ready...For Terror Attacks...That Will Leave You Breathless!" [fast music plays] "On February 14th...America Ain't Seen Nothing Yet!" [sinister shot of a turban] etc. etc.).

Anyway, my coworkers are all taping up their windows and shit, saving up their dry milk and canned Hormel chili products, striving to out-prepare each other. "Claudia! What are you doing about The Coming Attacks?" The capitalization of such Important Ideas is implicit in their reverent yet quietly panicked tones. I threw my hands apathetically into the air. "I�m having houseguests over, and a birthday party for my friend, and, well, if we are attacked, my plan is to make helmets for everyone out of empty water-cooler jugs, and then just get drunk and wait for the bombs." I don�t think they understood, though I wish they could.

I also wish the warning system could be customized. "Orange" is not a scary idea to me�I associate "orange" with either the interior decoration of flamboyant young men, or Nature's Miracle Deep Cleanser. Now, if Ridge came on my computer screen and said "We are at Richard Simmons-level alert," I would be totally scared. That might frighten me into stockpiling water and cans of lentils.

These are not the sort of people who get their news from NPR. They are full-blown yuppies, at best, NBCers�the kind of people who don�t concede to, for example, authentic pronunciation of foreign words. They emphasize the first syllable, always: EYE-rack, EYE-ran, SA-dum, et cetera. For them, the 'Al' in "Al Qaeda" rhymes with the 'Al' in "Al Bundy"�as though the Americanization of scary non-English words removes their threat, their dangerous foreign flair. Theirs is a world in which Rag� is a better pasta sauce choice than, you know, funghi fra diavolo, because 'authentic' is synonymous with 'weird.' Like my parents, they fail to understand my bitterness, my subtle Thanatos, my American self-loathing. They would, given the chance, bomb the shit out of every non-American country. I am not like them. I am depressed, tired, and unpatriotic. I am just going to get bombed. clm.


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