Hello.

I realize that I haven’t written anything in awhile but, surprisingly, I fell in love last year with an old flame, so I have been concentrating on that relationship while trying to figure out how to write about my personal life without infringing on the privacy of my (cue Barry White music) special lady friend.  That is not easy to do. (Full disclosure: I will not be writing about my relationship tonight.) Also, because of said relationship I have given up drinking and, I don’t know about you, but between me and my buddy F. Scott, it is really hard to write without celebrating with a wee nip of the tainted rosewater. So there’s that. (That’s right: I can’t write sober. I mean, I can’t write drunk either, but after a few drinks, I can’t tell.) Also, toss in the fact that I am an uneducated peasant working for a mere ten dollars an hour and no benefits and it is a wonder I think I have the right to express myself on the internet at all. In another time, the only permissible form of expression allowed my kind would be to stare plaintively at the person holding the ladle whilst raising my porridge bowl and saying “More, please.” And then I would sing rollicking songs with Albert Finney.

But then I ran the water in my kitchen sink tonight, which almost made me pee my pants, so I knew I just had to find time to write a quick essay about the Syrian refugee crisis.

First of all, for those of us who have been playing Fallout 4 non-stop for the past week and have missed the news, or for those of us reading this essay well into the future, long after the shock of recent events has subsided, there was a heavily coordinated terror attack in the city of Paris last Friday. Teams of suicide bombers and suicidal fighters fanned out throughout the city with explosive vests and automatic weapons, and they proceeded to kill and injure hundreds of people. It was a horrific tragedy carried out, as best as has been discerned so far, by EU nationals. Most of the terrorists were either French or Belgian citizens.

Before the dead had even been buried, American politicians of all variety of red stripes went out in public to proudly proclaim that Syrian refugees are not welcome in their particular state. Some wrote letters to President Obama, telling him so. Some even set up Facebook pages. (“Like” & “Share” if you agree with Governor Pat McCrory’s decision to “keep North Carolina safe!”)

I just gotta say: Congratulations, America, for once again making it All About You. Hats off to you there, as Eddie Izzard would say. Well done. Sure, the killings took place 3,600 miles from our shores but, I get it: it COULD have happened here. And, of course, it also must be pointed out that the killers in this act of war were not Syrian refugees. They were French and Belgian. But way to stand tough against ravaged families desperately searching for a safe place to call home! Listen to you all speak is like watching a barefooted John McClain save the hostages in Nakatomi Plaza all over again! All they want is a place to rest their weary heads so that they can attempt to rebuild their lives after suffering years of war and strife the likes of which we will never understand here on these shores. I hope you’re proud of yourself, America. You have turned Lady Liberty’s guiding beacon of hope into a giant middle finger, making a mockery of all that you stand for in the process. It must feel great, being that protective of your people. You ARE the leaders that we deserve.

You know, I understand the desire to hunker down in a defensive posture. I am sure that we all do. It’s human nature, after a tragedy, to pull your loved ones closer and be more vigilant. I remember watching that second plane fourteen years ago, and I remember how cold my blood turned, knowing only that we were under attack and little else. But this is not 9/11, and the people looking for a safe place in our country are not Mohammad Atta. I would expect our political leaders to be able to distinguish the difference. And that would be my first mistake. “You Can’t Spell Xenophobia Without NO!” should be the GOP’s campaign slogan for 2016.

Which brings me back to tonight.

I didn’t realize that my bladder was full when I turned the sink on. All I wanted to do was run the water on a vacuum-sealed salmon filet to defrost it, so that my special lady friend and I could have us some dinner. In an instant, though, I went from planning dinner to fighting the urge to piss down my leg! “This is probably what fear of Syrian refugees feels like to right-wing citizens,” I thought, as I danced from leg to leg. The urge to pee came out of nowhere and it dominated my thinking–easing that discomfort became the primary goal of my night. I imagine the fear of refugees struck conservative Americans out of the blue, too.

Dinner became a secondary concern much as, in this scenario, openness and compassion towards refugees became secondary concerns for Republicans. All I wanted to do was tend to the biological reaction. But, I fought against the urge. I took a deep breath, clenched parts of myself that a minute early I was fairly convinced were years beyond a good clenching, and forced myself to relax. I finished what I needed to do in the kitchen and then calmly removed myself to a more porcelain-centric portion of the home. What I did NOT do was pee all over myself, even though I had the intense urge to do so. “And that’s the difference between right-wing and left-wing people,” I concluded. “Also, I need to buy more toilet paper.”

Having the urge to react fearfully to refugees when a terror attack like this occurs is just as instinctual as the need to pee is when you turn on the water. But in both instances, human beings should be able to control themselves and their primal urges, and resolve the situation calmly and rationally with no muss and no fuss. Governors and politicians who stand against refugees may feel like they are relieving themselves from an imminent crisis but in reality all they are really doing is pissing down their own leg.

Thanks for listening.