Jenna: Paul, I think we just found another level of sexuality. It’s a whole new feitsh called,

Jenna/Paul: Normalling!

Paul: So last night I napped on you and you liked it, you sick bitch!

Jenna: Oh yeah, and I put that Afghan all over you because I thought your feet might get chilly!

Paul: So chilly!

Jenna: Ooh, I just had the sicketst idea! We go out as a couple to “Bed, Bath and Beyond” and shop for Home Necessities in front of everybody!

Paul: Normalling in public? You delicious whore. 

Last night Osama Bin Laden was killed.

America rejoiced.

Obama made a speech.

People cheered.

Others questioned.

And I decided to watch 30 Rock, again.

Now if you haven’t seen the last episode, here is a quick recap: Jack Donaghy’s wife, Avery Jessup is kidnapped by Kim Jong-Il and held captive for the purpose of manufacturing political news propaganda. Jack uses all of his connections to pull Avery out, including Condoleeza Rice, his former lover. Meanwhile, Liz decides to take control of her own life and after being inspired by “The Secret”, she decides that she is the master of her own fate.

So what does 30 Rock have to do with Osama’s death? Not much, to be honest. But as I sit at Starbucks this very second, sipping my grande Americano, my mind begins to wonder: what does this really mean? Okay, so a single man has died; a man who caused a great deal of suffering and death, scarring millions of people. I guess that’s good? Would it have been better if he was captured, tried and sentenced? But, what in the world made him hate America so much in the first place? How could anyone want to destroy “the Free World”?

A list of anti-American jokes run through my head, but I contain myself. I have American friends.

And then I remembered something that Obama said last night:

“The cause of securing our country is not complete. But tonight, we are once again reminded that America can do whatever we set our mind to.”

Well, of course! America is the greatest country in the world! Like Avery said, “Oh thank God. I forgot the US country code, but then I remembered it’s number one!”

America. Is. Number. One.

Anything they put their mind to, they will achieve. It doesn’t matter that it took ten years, nor does it matter that it cost upwards of 1 trillion dollars. And let’s face it: the death of a million people for the safety of billions is the price we pay for freedom. 

I don’t mean to insult my American friends, or any of you who happen to be American, and I am certainly not saying that the death of millions is something to be frank about. But I simply cannot seem to feel anything good about his death. Chances are it is because I am not American and therefor I do not know how it feels to have my own country come under attack by, shhhhh, terrorists. I mean, I was 14 at the time and in my first year of high school. Even now I still don’t know much about the politics surrounding Osama’s betrayal of America. But what I do know is that I am able to admit to the fact that I really did not know how to react to his death because the excessive displays of joy and celebration freaked me the fuck out. It seemed crazy and distant; a world so close yet perspectives apart.

I also have to remind myself that I am speaking form a uniquely Canadian experience; sometimes we forget how different we are from the rest of the world (America). We don’t live in a constant state of fear. We don’t have ridiculously manufactured news stories the way FOX News does. We don’t pay for healthcare. We are obviously socialists.

But we are also human, and at times we too become blinded by rage and passions that we cannot control. We feel unbearable amounts of grief when a loved one passes. Afterwards, the uncontrollable anger follows, directed towards the people, God, or whomever we feel is responsible for the death. So strong is this feeling that we wish we could have killed the perpetrator ourselves. This, I understand.

But somewhere there is a line.

We cannot revel in the death of a human being like this. The more comfortable we are with death, the easier it is for someone else to pull the trigger, plunge the knife or set a bomb. We lose ourselves a little more every time we smile at death as if it is our friend, a fellow conspirator, reinforcing our own innocence as members of a free nation because Evil has been destroyed.

But can people be so arrogant as to forget that at the exact same time, there are people out there who look towards the West and see nothing but red?

Masters of our own fate.

Now, can someone remind me: whose fate are we the masters of, exactly?

01 May 11 at 6 pm

Hahaha… 30 Rock kills me.