Sometimes I dream I'm someone with a great capacity for violence. It's sort of troubling. I do these things and I don't recognize them as things I would do. It's like when you find doors in your house that aren't usually there.
So I was part of some kind of gang who stormed the Racist Party headquarters with guns to shut them down. I'm not clear what the plan was exactly. Maybe make Jimmie Åkesson sign some contracts. We only got as far as waving our guns in their faces and telling them to shut up. Because, you see, they wouldn't shut up. Picture a skinhead looking down his nose and going "so much for the tolerant left" and "you're just scared of the truth" while you're actively unloading a shotgun at the floor between his legs. That's my view of the Swedish Racist Party. No dialogue, no coherence, just condescending soundbites.
So I did a bad thing. Force commitment, I think General Ripper calls it. See, I didn't feel bad about shooting these people in the face. Not at all. I just felt a little bad, as I cynically picked the highest value targets, that I was making my buddies open fire with me. They were still hoping we could get our way with just the threat of violence, and now they had to strike to keep the racists from defending themselves.
Things got confused after that and there was another dream involved where my friend and I were hopping around between stars in a cute little spaceship and walking on the stars, which were the size of buildings and not very hot. But anyway. If someone can sit in your country's parliament and tell the people to fight to the death to defend their ethnic and cultural purity from the degenerate invaders and not have to answer for that to anyone, the time for dialogue may be over.
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