“L.A. burns, and so many other cities smolder, waiting for the hose that will flood gasoline over the coals, and we listen to politicians who fuel our hate and our narrow views and tell us it’s simply a matter of getting back to basics while they sit in their beachfront properties and listen to the surf so they won’t have to hear the screams of the drowning.
They tell us it’s about race, and we believe them. And they call it a ‘democracy’, and we nod our heads, so pleased with ourselves. We blame the [criminals]…,but we always vote for the [politicians]. And in occasional moments of quasi-lucidity, we wonder why the [politicians] of this world don’t respect us.
They don’t respect us because we are their molested children. They f*** us morning, noon, and night, but as long as they tuck us in with a kiss, as long as they whisper into our ears, ‘Daddy loves you, Daddy will take care of you,’ we close our eyes and go to sleep, trading our bodies, our souls, for the comforting veneers of ‘civilization’ and ‘security’, the false idols of our twentieth-century […] dream.”
–Dennis Lehane, A Drink Before The War
(Yeah, some edits for language. After all this is a family blog, he said tongue-in-cheek. Mostly the “criminals” and “politician” replacements were character names from the book that I didn’t think would communicate if you haven’t read it.)