Do we wonder what his former SAE frat brothers are thinking? Thinking? No, of course not. But Chris Jeon’s perhaps temporary media existence strikes us as making Greek wanker sense, doesn’t it? Puts the a-hole world right in a perverse way. “Dude, what a tits Summer break. Shooting up stuff all over Labia.”
And then the idiot goes out and gets shot, presumably? Luck forbid. Bro-ham speaks:
“At spring break I told my friends a ‘sick’ vacation would be to come here and fight with the rebels,” he told a Christian Monitor reporter.
There it is. Nothing I can make up is more tragic or more hysterical than Chris’ actual, perhaps short life. What a dumb young man. And how he personifies the donkey-brained chargers of our existence; improvising mortgage bankers come to mind. God knows we’ve known the type too long. We recall the test dummys from our college years who clambered up a sorority drain pipe but fell only two stories up the task.
“How do you fire this thing?” he asked on Wednesday as a bearded rebel handed him an AK-47.
Who cares? It’s all about the initial impulse. Me? I saw the coverage, imagined myself there, thought about it. Chris thought about it. I certainly could get there. Chris could get there. But there are bullets, mortars and hopelessly violent lunatics everywhere. And I’m a good person, with a decent life. Chris:
“I want to fight in Sirte!” he proclaimed, using hand gestures and pointing west towards Sirte. Whether the rebels understood him was far from clear. “It’s hard to communicate. I don’t really speak any Arabic,” he said.
Though Jeon told his friend [Peter Duan] that he was taking the trip to “see a revolution from the ground up,” Duan is worried that he may be in over his head — traversing a political and religious world with which he has no familiarity or ties.
“I definitely think he would shoot somebody,” says Duan. “He told me, ‘If a rebel’s running at me with a gun, I won’t hesitate to shoot his head off.’”
NO, you cat-brain. Aim for the Qaddafi forces. Shoot the loyalists. Don’t take one in the face because you shouldered your weapon and then turned around on your rebel pals to ask how the safety works. Dumbass.