Nearly 200 people attack Alternative Cote d’Ivoire, ransacking office and making off with computers, says official.
First things first, I feel the need to warn you: this a rant. Pure and simple. If rants aren’t your thing, quick! Click this link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/10/31/hallmark-kitten-bowl_n_4184157.html?utm_hp_ref=kittens. Kittens!
Now time for the dedication page: Dearest sheltered post-tween North Face “thugs” at the University library, I owe this to you.
Really, this rant is provoked by nothing but coincidence. The coincidence of reading the wrong news story at the wrong time. The aforementioned smooth-faced barely post-puberty clan has been camped out at the library as long as I have, and, until today, I’ve been able to laugh off their astonishing stupidity with ease. (Of course, the laughing by myself in the corner of the library didn’t help my reputation much).
But today I read this: http://www.aljazeera.com/news/africa/2014/01/mob-storms-gay-rights-office-ivory-coast-2014127192815807745.html.
If you click on this link and find yourself in a TLDR situation (too long, didn’t read)…well…you won’t. Because you obviously won’t have made it this far if you’re a TLDR-er. Regardless, here’s the summary. A few days ago, a mob of about 200 people attacked a gay-rights organization in Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire and Ivoirian police (somehow) didn’t respond until contacted by the French ambassador. What’s more, rumor has it that a larger attack is in the making.
Of course, as westerners, we tend to see stories like this, click our tongues, bemoan the state of the world, and then head off to Target in search of a new dust ruffle. When, in reality, we should be tut-tut-tutting ourselves for seeing the state of the world and doing absolutely nothing about it. Because the dust ruffles! They’re floral!
I’ll admit, I can’t take the high road here. I do exactly the same thing. War in Afghanistan, typhoon in the Philippines, explosions in Russia…I clucked my tongue and then think about how I could really do with a nice sandwich. This story just happened to hit home.
I know these people. They’re my colleagues. They are my friends.
Now for our library gang. Given their bright, blank eyes, expensive clothing, and wrinkle-free, worriless foreheads, I’d give them about 19 years. And we’re not talking a worldly 19, here. We’re talking parent- bought-iPhone/Lives-at-home/Thinks-Hangover-is-a-good-movie 19. Basically, what I’m trying to say with my uncontrolled hyphenation is that they have a prepubescent maturity.
Well, when this clan isn’t throwing paper airplanes or taking smoke breaks, they’re screaming things like “Hey faggot! You’re such a faggot! You’re listening to that?! OMG, faggggggggggggooootttttttt!” Now, as I said, this is normally ignorable behavior. But the fact that the French word for faggot (pédé) is derived from the word for pedophile doesn’t really help their case.
Of course, they’re children. And they’ll either grow out of it after a good bitch slap or work in a gas station for the rest of their lives. Either way, problem solved. Today, coincidence just happened to rear her ugly head and something deep inside me snapped.
Use of the word “pédé” is punishable with 6 months imprisonment and a 22,500 euro fine in France. I might just have to make a complaint.
I wonder what French prison is like?