The whole W.A.W. staff would like to join in a hearty bird flipping to whomever was responsible for the Boston Marathon explosions. We hope something heavy falls on your head from a very great height. Something with spikes. Also to the victims and their families, we apologize for the self-destructive stupidity of the human race. Clearly some asshat didn't get the memo that we're all in this together. You are in our thoughts. And if we prayed, you can bet you'd be in those too.
We don't want the people who did this to think they have succeeded in disrupting even so much as a single blog article (for that is exactly what they want), but given the tone and character of Writing About Writing's particular brand of irreverent satire, the wank-filled persona I don to write here that is not entirely me, and our relatively trivial subject matter compared to the day's events, we must admit that an article about how you don't have to make money writing seems a little out of place today. Instead we will post tomorrow with extra jokes and not-letting-it-change-who-we-are-ness. Because fuck them, that's why.
Don't judge anything by the worst of it. Jelly beans are pretty awesome, even if the licorice tasting ones end up in the trash.
See the people helping. See the people giving. See the blood drives and the Google people finder and the assistance and the immediate outcry of support, and it has only been a few hours. See how we respond to this and see the relief that the worst among us will ever confront. Because the best of us are there. The best of us are ALWAYS there....ever waiting.
Because every SINGLE time something like this happens, we see people all around rising to the challenge of humanity. And what you say rattles your faith, I find unerringly--unswervingly enters my consciousness as our finest of hours.
Just look a little closer.
Oh and here's a link to Google's people finder if you are missing someone or you think someone might be missing you.