Rest In Peace Trayvon

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.  – Jesus

Accursed are the peacemakers, for they crimp my wallet in a major way and/or deny me the opportunity to grab the spotlight – Anonymous but legion

Let’s pray for Trayvon and his friends and family mourning his loss.  Let’s pray for George Zimmerman, as his road of suffering still stretches before him.  Whatever your opinion on the decision, a panel of women – all mothers themselves – carefully and painstakingly weighed the evidence and testimonies and came to a decision, as was their civic duty.  At the water cooler this week, I urge everyone to ask themselves “How can I be a peacemaker?” before weighing in.   Whether you think George Zimmerman hunted Trayvon down and cold-bloodedly shot him like a rabid dog (per that Florida state representative with the amazing hat)  or you think Trayvon was a marijuana-stoked punk who opened a can of whup-ass on Zimmerman and got what he deserved – or somewhere in the middle – you weren’t there so you don’t really know, so don’t talk like you do know.

A big part of the continuing appeal of “Star Trek” is an envisioned society that moved well beyond needing Title 7 laws, where there is no discrimination based on race, nationality (or in Star Trek, what planet you’re from), etc.  The humans lay down with the Klingons, so to speak.  I’m less sanguine about that day arriving in the real world, because of three kinds of people:

  1. The ones that make a good living from divisiveness (e.g. lawyers)
  2. The ones that love opportunities to get attention (e.g. politicians)
  3. The ones who enjoy waving signs and throwing rocks at police no matter what the issue, echoing Kenneth Mars in “Young Frankenstein”: a riot is an ugly thing…and it’s just about time we had one!  It’s more fun than bathing.

That this trial got gavel-to-gavel national coverage and continuous commentary, while murders are occurring all over the country get little notice even in their local precincts also makes me pessimistic.  Racial strife sells advertising, like Kim Kardashian’s pregnancy.  Can’t we all just get along?  Sorry Rodney, apparently not.

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