Isn't it a pity?

I'm slightly aggravated by the latest round of censorship debate. Now Sirius shock jocks "Opie and Anthony" are on the hook for a bit about a homeless man having rough sex with celebrities including Condeleeza Rice.

Offensive? Somewhat. But I sometimes wonder if society is taking the coward's way out and dealing with sideshow issues like radio shock jocks (like these guys and Don Imus) instead of taking on real meaty issues. Drugs. Rape. Terrorism. Domestic violence. War. Cultural, racial and religious intolerance. Teen pregnancy. AIDS. Darfur. The Global Climate Crisis (no matter what Geraldo-clone John Stossel says, the consensus of those who do more than style their hair before they go on the air is that it is real). Governmental corruption.

All, and more, more important than bad taste comedy or what words a desperate comedian will stoop to.

As I writer, I value words. I understand their power. They are tools and weapons of change, imbued with great power. Power that is often abused by the mighty and the weak. By the bold and the craven. By those who seek power and those who already have it.

But if you are more afraid of what is said than what is done, if a smartass comment makes you react with greater fear and righteous indignation than the death of our sons and fathers overseas and the genocide in the Sudan and the horrific spectre of climate gone against us, I feel sorry for you.

Indeed, to use the word that is most obscene in my vocabulary, I pity you.

Pity.

Now that's a dangerous word. Because it means I am taking you as an inferior when I pity you. And that offends me, to think I would think of someone as less than me. We are all equal in God's eyes, God who is perfect and omniscient. But God has the luxury of a heart of infinite love, something I lack. And when I see all the suffering and pain and tragedy we ignore in the name of these pathetic, silly trifles of forced play-morality, I get angry.

And that anger turns to pity.

And I pity myself, for having lost my faith, if even for a moment.