Thank you, Sinead O'Connor

Thank you, Sinead. Thank you for what you said, what you did, who you were. You were what pop music needed; you were what pop music needs. Punk is not dead because the absolute refusal of injustice and casual, unnecessary cruelty is alive. That refusal should be absolute, not tentative, not polite, not apologetic, not compromising, not respectful, just refusing. Absolute refusal is when you take that 'no' to the absolute limit of what it is capable of, what can be done with it, how much is refused when it is.

(And so of course, the 'surburban mall' version of what I wanted to say: Sinead, your spirit is still alive. Everyone dies; some people's songs do not. I've got yours to listen to. Thank you.)

You "insulted" an idol. May all idols suffer that fate. Idols of the Church, the Nation (any nation), of peoples of holy lands, of every faith able to be blind and stupid, of everything holy that doesn't need to be, of everything great and holy that excuses injustice. Being a victim of cruelty sucks; fighting it may be the sole remaining heroism. My only idol is the refusal of every idol. Every Master, every Savior, every Leader, every God, every Church, Nation, and Faith is held to be great and beloved by saying it cannot be criticized, and thus is an idol to be demolished, torn to shreds, refused. Who will benefit from such 'violence' (it is not violence)? Let's start with children who will not grow up to abuse others. That's not the end, but it's a good enough beginning.