Turning Point
A Time for Reflection
Vikid had been traveling for Business. He had put his sales hat on and was in a foreign city advocating for his companies good and services.
A new acquaintance, a friend of a friend had just taken him out for a lovely lunch in one of the cities trendy hotels. Fighting a food coma, he was sitting across from a potential customer when the phones around him started ringing. His colleague answered his mobile. There had been a bombing.
Vikid got a whatsapp message, his friends house had literally shaken from the blast, an attempted assassination of some high level political delegates negotiating a ceasefire of one of many endless wars in the region.
He closed the meeting, probably time to get to the hotel before hell broke loose and the streets were closed by police blockades and what not.
But then something funny happened.
Well, precisely nothing happened.
Not one police siren, no helicopters, no sense of fear on the streets, just nothing.
The traffic continued as normal. Day turned to evening and all the restaurants were open, a few people in a hair salon chatting with the barber while getting the hair cut, executives leaving their offices on the commute back home, etc… etc…
Vikid decided to go for a walk and the evening was pleasant.
He never checked the news these days, a habit the he had left for a couple of years now but it seemed prudent to do so.
As expected there was a frenzy of speculation about what had happened. Nothing concrete. What was more interesting was what had happened in Nepal. Violent protests, a minister stripped and forced to walk in a river in front of an angry mob, for trying to block social media. The entire parliament burned down for trying to censor “disinformation”.
Guess they weren’t well informed of how much they were disliked or what was actually happening on the streets.
He took the night flight back home and went straight to sleep, only to wake up to more messages.
Charlie Kirk had been assassinated in Utah while talking to some college kids at a University. A single shot straight through his carotid artery. A professional hit, the shooter making a silent escape.
Charlie Kirk, ran an organization called Turning Point, which focused on bringing conservative values to the young college level demographic. Specifically focused on reversing the brainwashing happening across the campuses around the USA, around the world.
Vikid had followed Charlie right from the start of his career. He was a highly intelligent, articulate speaker and debater. The kind of person fit to be a senator or president in the future. A clear ascending star. The kind of person you had no doubt was going places.
While Vikid didn’t agree with everything Charlie said or believed in, he thought he had his heart in the right place.
This assassination felt like a Turning Point, the crossing of a line, a line that says political violence is OK in the west. That the gloves are coming off.
It’s still too early to saying anything more about this, except there is a profound feeling of loss.
People have become too involved in politics. It’s a game to them, like Grand Theft Auto. They don’t spend time doing the good things in life, like reading a good novel or philosophy, listening to real music, not the computer generated crap, like learning an instrument.
They spend time online. Which is totally fine. But not when online means “The News” or Politics.
It’s all about “Rights”, the friggin “Climate”, “Sustainablity”, “Equality”, “Diversity” and other straight up Bull-Shit. It’s about which god said what and who this god bestowed land to.
Someone far more intelligent than Vikid once said,
“The World becomes what you pay attention to.”
So Vikid thought it was best to turn the news back off. Let others attend to whatever they want but he was going to do something a little more positive.
May Charlie’s soul rest in peace, may this Turning Point lead to some reconciliation and reflection.
Turn away from anger and blame.
Turn to the good things in life.
Attend to them and the World will turn that way.
And that’s,