Saturday, January 7, 2006

An apology? For Tom Yest, sorry seemed to be the saddest word...

Max Block cried when Professor X was executed by the state. Murdered. Assassinated. Between sobs, he thought of Plato’s stoicism at the death of Socrates. Not a tear was revealed as the verdict was read; not a blink when Socrates refused to live the remainder of his life as an exile—despite the fact that he sought so adamantly throughout his trial to be seen as a stranger to Athens—and finally, not even a sigh as the hemlock was drunk. But afterwards, Plato was inconsolable: wandering around the Greek and Roman colonies, he even entertained serving a tyrant in hopes of mitigating his regime’s cruelty. In order to ensure that no regime would ever put to death its best and brightest citizen. Plato failed. And now Professor X’s body was being loaded into the crematorium after undergoing the defilement of an autopsy and the brutalization of a state-sponsored murder. Within the narrow spaces between spasms of grief, Max reasoned that no democracy could put one of its citizens to death. Again: no democracy could put one of its citizens to death. And since this state murdered his beloved mentor, this was no democracy. There could be no justification for a state-sponsored murder. There could be no limitation of Max’s next step: to respond in like measure. The state would pay for what it did. Max would make it pay. Calling on all the justice of the vengeful god of the Old Testament, Max would ensure that no regime, democracy or not, could silence the voice of Professor X. So help him god.

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