Nietzsche once said that he who fights with monsters should take care that he doesn’t turn into a monster himself, and that when you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss stares back. Well, it was either Nietzsche or Ted Nugent. I don’t know, I was pretty drunk that night, and there were a lot of people there at Ann Coulter’s party, doing blow off Suicide Girls’ asses and celebrating the release of Ann’s new book, I Have a Vagina Full of Money. Or maybe it was called God Loves Mean Assholes the Most. Or Beyond Good and Evil and All the Way Back to Super-Evil. I don’t remember what the book was called. From what I’ve heard it’s pretty obscure and probably won’t even sell out its print run of five (especially since most of us got a copy for free, and I used mine as kindling to incinerate the foreign).
Anyway, as I said, we were all pretty fucked up. And thus, I don’t remember most of what Nietzsche/Ted Nugent said (it might have had something to do with pizza toppings — “I am not a sun-dried tomato, I am dynamite!” sounds a little familiar), but for some reason that bit about monsters and the abyss stuck. Unfortunately, it got me thinking — and since everyone else at the party was a Republican (except for Nietzsche, who considers himself a Libertarian, but I think that’s just the VD talking) and thus hates to think, it also got me lonely. And when I get lonely, I start taking stock of situations (again, I can see why my Republican friends don’t like thinking, because it sets off an unfortunate chain of events). And when I take stock of situations, I start seeing unpleasant things when I close my eyes, à la Julia Stiles in the remake of The Omen, who closes her eyes and sees footage of herself doing an astoundingly shitty acting job in a remake of The Omen.
Here is what I’ve been seeing lately on the back of my eyelids: a giant photo of the dead face of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi on the front page of the newspaper, à la those sweet decapitated Westerner corpse photos Arab television likes to run sometimes. As if, first of all, offing one Al-Q mastermind and then putting his head on a stick à la Lord of the Flies (metaphorically... I hope) is the international warfare equivalent of Capture the Flag and the game is now over because our corpse photo is the corpsiest of all. And as if it were somehow the righteous thing to do, and that every time a homosexual looks at al-Zarqawi’s waxy dead eyelids he will be compelled to go to the Olive Garden and electric-guitar-pyrotechnic worship hour.
Because, see, when our side publishes a big corpse face, it is a legitimate, non-brutal act of freedom’s ultimate triumph, and Jesus himself is looking up from his video iPod with glowing pride. It is especially not a gesture semantically identical and thus arguably equivalently monstrous as anything their side would do to us — because, ok, calm down, I realize that al-Zarqawi was a bad, bad man, and that all the nice journalists and venture capitalists his buddies murdered were not. And I realize that most of Ted Nugent’s poetry blows and his moustache is ridiculous (or is that Nietzsche?), but he has a point. If you spend too much time with the monsters, what is to stop you from trying on a sweet pair of monster-sized stiletto heels (like the ones Ann Coulter wore on the cover of Time to accentuate her awesome man-feet) and deciding they look hot on you? And if you spend too much time staring at the waxy-lidded, lifeless abyss, how can you be sure that you’re outside it looking in, and not the other way around? What is happening to us? Ann Coulter, Ted Nugent, Nietzsche, anyone? See? Thinking is the worst.