On Wednesday, February 17, 2021, an influential man, seventy years of age, died from lung cancer. Millions adored him, while other scorned his very existence. Controversial in life, his death would inspire people to praise his accomplishments, and rant about his sins. I have spent the past four days dwelling on what his death means to me, struggling to put into words my thoughts about him and his deeds. Please forgive me. Being neither particularly witty nor skillfully clever, and desiring deeply to meet tonight's deadline, I leave you with the following.
(Although it is not necessary, if will help if you read the NPR article linked above, especially a quote near the beginning given during a 2007 NPR interview.)
Many thoughts have been stirring in my mind these past four days. Here are just a few.
When it comes to God, I tell people it is complex. There is a strong part of me that believes. However, it is that strange, dark, and brooding part. Other beliefs reside there: the kind I am only willing to share around a dying campfire, or on a deck overlooking a moonlit beach. And only with a certain kind of person: one who wants to listen. But on this day, for this post, I will share one of these thoughts: I believe that if there is some sort of Judgement Day, it will involve each soul standing before God, where they must face the litany of their actions on Earth, and face them from the perspective of all those whom they have affected and afflicted. I feel sorry for those who pride themselves on the breadth of their audiences and the number of their followers. That will end up being a very long ordeal.
I used to watch 21 Jump Street, the television series. Yes, the one with Johnny Depp. Oh, and at the time, I enjoyed it, with the result that several episodes have been burned int0 my mind. One of them popped up in my head just this past week. Titled "Next Victim", it involved a "shock jock" (any radio host whose fame culminates from the shocking things they say or do) and his attempted murder. The event causes a stir between his fans and his detractors. The police get involved, and one of the Jump Street crew goes under cover as a radio shock jock. Turns out the cop enjoys it: being an asshole can be fun and powerful. SPOILER ALERT! At the end of the episode, the original shock jock, while lying burned and battered in a hospital bed, confesses that he blew up his own car in order to cause controversy: he wanted even more attention. Unfortunately, he got caught up in his own horrible scheming, and the public, inspired by his vile ambitions, suffered. Strange how that happens.
For several days, I have been contemplating a sad thought. Some people have the ability to influence millions, and, therefore, inspire the masses to create a better world, learn new ideas, and basically be kind human beings. And instead these influencers decide to spend each and every day, for decades on end, preaching the power of anger and the rewards of resentment. All so that they can make money and feel adored, while their audiences blindly defend them. It is ironic that both groups end up spewing ignorance and hate, but only one of them has to face the consequences. The other group lives lavishly and luxuriously off the rotten seeds they planted.
The summer before my senior year of college, I met with an Army recruiter. Drawing on childhood memories, high school fantasies, and a calling that manifested in my late college years, I had decided to enlist. While it never panned out, the emotions surrounding my decision have never faded--it is a cross for me to bear. I do not idolize the military (the Bible constantly condemns idolatry). Nor do I put soldiers and veterans on pedestals (that is not fair to them, and they deserve better). But I have little respect for those who call them baby killers, curse them, or belittle their choices in joining the armed forces. However, I reserve a strong contempt for those who lavish praise on soldiers and veterans, yet never felt inspired enough to enlist, or even consider it. The worst are those who extol the virtues of military life--comradery, discipline, and sacrifice--yet have never bothered to put them into practice in their public actions.
Finally, during my first run at this blogging thing, I wrote about how Major Olmsted was one of those many bloggers who inspired me to write publicly. I discovered him while searching for things related to Babylon 5. He happened to be a big fan, just like me. He quoted the show constantly throughout his writings, including in a letter he had written before his last tour in Iraq. That very letter was posted posthumously (click on the link above to read it). On January 3, 2008, Major Olmsted was killed by a sniper while on a mission. Besides his wife, parents, and friends, he left behind a fanbase. They did not number in the millions, like some famous people, and probably not even the thousands, like some popular niche YouTubers. But at least a hundred people were inspired enough by his writings to convey their sadness and pain over his death. They immortalized it in a comment section on the internet. And, I doubt anywhere among those hundred posts would you find a single harsh, critical word. At least any negative words worthy of consideration.
I will end my meandering thoughts on Rush Limbaugh's death with this quote found in Major Olmsted's last letter:
"Our thoughts form the Universe. They always matter." G'Kar, Babylon 5.
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