Dead men tell no tales
The video footage of Saddam Hussein's final moments is appearing in the expected places and I, for some reason, felt obliged to watch it.
I don't know if it's the comics I read, or the films and tv shows I watch, but for whatever reason, I was really expecting some dramatic last minute event to happen- like Hussein throwing off his coat and launching through the roof on a jet pack or throwing down a smoke capsule and dissapearing in the confusion. Of course, that didn't happen, and he died.
I know that he did a lot of terrible things as (unjust)ruler of Iraq. I know that he is responsible for the deaths of thousands, if not millions. But I still feel... freaked out by him dying.
It's like when Princess Diana died. I'd never cared for her, and couldn't give two hoots whether she was around or not, usually. For some reason, though, after she died, I'd catch myself suddenly remembering every few months and being shocked. "Oh yeah... she's dead."
This, I guess, is a really long winded way for me to say that life sucks. And death sucks. It's just ... it's really crap that people have to die. I know that that seems such a childish thing to say, but I think sometimes I need to remind myself that death happens.
I promise not such a morbid post tomorrow. Maybe something about rent troubles?