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I don’t make it a habit of interfering with politics, political correctness or societal cliffhangers. I have enough to deal with in my wireless hyper connected digital social space.
But, I have to this time. I’m extremely tired of the hypocrisy of scared white men, looking at their newspaper and not seeing what’s there. I’m tired of politicians with great corporate hair announcing that they are trying to have a discussion soon. Again.
I’m tired. Yes, refugees are a problem. Yes, they are not like us. Yes, they were born abroad. Yes, certainly not all of them are good. Yes, they have different gods. Yes, they dress differently. Yes, they eat differently. Yes, they have weird names. Yes, it’s a nuisance that we’re not prepared for this. Yes, they need food, shelter, and help.

His name was Aylan. He was 3 years old. He drowned near Turkey with his mother Rihan and his 5 year old brother, Galip. They fled from violence, rape, oppression and poverty and tried to reach Europe.

This is how he should have been lying tonight. Safe. Warm. Alive.
We did not let him. We’re… urgh, civilized.

Have peace, Aylan, I’m sorry.

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