“If you’re in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at the enemy, throw one of those small pumpkins. Maybe it’ll make everyone think how stupid war is, and while they are thinking, you can throw a grenade at them.” – Jack Handey
At this point, it is a near universal truth that war is primitive, inane and largely unnecessary. Especially if someone made you read Kurt Vonnegut in high school. Man, that guy was really successful in foisting devious “don’t kill other human beings” propaganda on the young and impressionable.
A sterling example of the cosmic irony of war is the curious case of Horst Rippert. Rippert was a Luftwaffe pilot in the Second World War. One of his favorite writers was Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of The Little Prince, whose central character was also an aviator. On July 31, 1944, he shot down a P-38 airplane with French markings over the Mediterranean.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery was an Allied pilot in the Second World War. His favorite authors included Paul Valery, Jules Verne and the German Romanticists. On July 31, 1944, he left on an assignment in a P-38 to collect aerial intelligence on German troop movement in the Rhone Valley and never returned. Nearly six decades later, his plane was found at the bottom of the Mediterranean.
Upon hearing of Saint-Exupery’s disappearance, Rippert was convinced that he had killed his hero. He told no one.
Rippert, now 88 years old, finally confessed this possibility after being contacted by Luc Vanrell, a French marine archaeologist who discovered and substantiated the identity of Saint-Exupery’s lost plane. Rippert stresses that if he had been aware of the identity of his victim, he wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. “If I had known it was Saint-Exupery, I would never have shot him down,” explained Rippert. “I loved his books. He was probably my favorite author at the time. I am shocked and sorry. Who knows what other great books he would have gone on to write?”
“I didn’t target a man who I knew. I shot at an enemy plane that went down. That’s all.” Praising Saint-Exupery, Rippert said, “He knew admirably how to describe the sky, the thoughts and feelings of pilots.” He then added, “His work inspired many of us to take up our vocation.”
That’s kind of ironic. You know what’s not kind of ironic? The song “Ironic” by Alanis Morisette. There isn’t a solid example of irony in that entire song. For instance: “A traffic jam when you’re already late/ A no smoking sign on your cigarette break/ It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife/ It’s meeting the man of my dreams/ And then meeting his beautiful wife/ And isn’t it ironic….don’t you think?”
No. I fucking don't. And it's not. Those are just frustrating situations where things aren’t going your way. You know what is ironic, Alanis Morisette? Writing a bunch of amazing books about aviation that inspire people to become pilots, one of whom becomes a really skilled fighter pilot who later mistakenly kills you in a dog fight. That’s fucking ironic. Oh wait. is the irony supposed to be that it’s a song called “Ironic” in which there is no actual irony? I can’t take this anymore. Stop messing with my head, Canada!
Anyway, in light of this sixty year old aeronautic tragedy, I think that I might have a pragmatic solution to the whole “war” problem. If everyone in world would just write a great book that was read and adored by everyone else in the world, no one would be able to intentionally kill anyone out of sheer literary admiration. Done and done. Get typing people!
At this point, it is a near universal truth that war is primitive, inane and largely unnecessary. Especially if someone made you read Kurt Vonnegut in high school. Man, that guy was really successful in foisting devious “don’t kill other human beings” propaganda on the young and impressionable.
A sterling example of the cosmic irony of war is the curious case of Horst Rippert. Rippert was a Luftwaffe pilot in the Second World War. One of his favorite writers was Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of The Little Prince, whose central character was also an aviator. On July 31, 1944, he shot down a P-38 airplane with French markings over the Mediterranean.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery was an Allied pilot in the Second World War. His favorite authors included Paul Valery, Jules Verne and the German Romanticists. On July 31, 1944, he left on an assignment in a P-38 to collect aerial intelligence on German troop movement in the Rhone Valley and never returned. Nearly six decades later, his plane was found at the bottom of the Mediterranean.
Upon hearing of Saint-Exupery’s disappearance, Rippert was convinced that he had killed his hero. He told no one.
Rippert, now 88 years old, finally confessed this possibility after being contacted by Luc Vanrell, a French marine archaeologist who discovered and substantiated the identity of Saint-Exupery’s lost plane. Rippert stresses that if he had been aware of the identity of his victim, he wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. “If I had known it was Saint-Exupery, I would never have shot him down,” explained Rippert. “I loved his books. He was probably my favorite author at the time. I am shocked and sorry. Who knows what other great books he would have gone on to write?”“I didn’t target a man who I knew. I shot at an enemy plane that went down. That’s all.” Praising Saint-Exupery, Rippert said, “He knew admirably how to describe the sky, the thoughts and feelings of pilots.” He then added, “His work inspired many of us to take up our vocation.”
That’s kind of ironic. You know what’s not kind of ironic? The song “Ironic” by Alanis Morisette. There isn’t a solid example of irony in that entire song. For instance: “A traffic jam when you’re already late/ A no smoking sign on your cigarette break/ It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife/ It’s meeting the man of my dreams/ And then meeting his beautiful wife/ And isn’t it ironic….don’t you think?”
No. I fucking don't. And it's not. Those are just frustrating situations where things aren’t going your way. You know what is ironic, Alanis Morisette? Writing a bunch of amazing books about aviation that inspire people to become pilots, one of whom becomes a really skilled fighter pilot who later mistakenly kills you in a dog fight. That’s fucking ironic. Oh wait. is the irony supposed to be that it’s a song called “Ironic” in which there is no actual irony? I can’t take this anymore. Stop messing with my head, Canada!
Anyway, in light of this sixty year old aeronautic tragedy, I think that I might have a pragmatic solution to the whole “war” problem. If everyone in world would just write a great book that was read and adored by everyone else in the world, no one would be able to intentionally kill anyone out of sheer literary admiration. Done and done. Get typing people!
1 comment:
Nice segway to Alanis. I'm not talking about your seamless transition - I'm talking about the personal transportation device [that I can totally imagine you utilizing Apestronaut]. Not segue, segway.
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