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The sermon for 2002-02-28 is: They found her body today 4:26 a.m. Dear Diary, hi, how have you been? They may have found her body today. They found _a_ body, three feet long, burned and with wisps of blonde hair, in the deserts east of us, and I think it absolutely an invitation to scream that I hear people hoping it's not her body, that she's still alive. BECAUSE IT'S STILL A DEAD CHILD AND THERE IS NO MOTHERFUCKING EXCUSE. Sorry Diary excuse my language, and I do not lambast the hope hidden that she might still be alive. It doesn't look good, though. Years ago a friend of mine came down to San Diego because he had heard about that man who had followed a little boy into a public bathroom, attracted perhaps by the boy's laughter or his eagerness to pee by himself, and while the little boy's family sunned themselves a few feet away, that man bent down and slashed that little boy's throat. Let's kill him, my friend said, he's out on bond, dog, call the boys and let's roll. He was trembling, my friend was, he really wanted us to go kill that man. I was young, I was in college, I argued with him. Vigilante justice is uncivilized and blah blah blah. Crimes of that magnitude cannot go unpunished, but that is not our right to determine, blah blah blah. Actually I don't remember what I said. Anyway. I've changed my mind, vigilantes. Kill the kidnappers and murderers of children. Scatter their entrails amongst the dead rocks and dry roads where they attempted to hide their monstrous crimes. And I can hear the past me (maybe it's that comicbook little angel on my right shoulder, waggling its index finger and discreeetly leaving pop-up ads beneath its robe for WebCasino and Orbitz.com on my shoulder) making its objections, saying: will that return that dead girl to her parents? Will that right the balance? Now I don't care if civilization collapses because we suspend laws where those who would hurt children are concerned. Yes, when those children do grow up I would be less concerned. Let them grow up, then, and kill them then if you must, you fucking pedarasts. I've been up for a long time now, so please dear Diary don't hold my incoherency against me. Plus I've been writing a lot about this, that they've found her body. Don't think me fickle nor playing favorites, dearest Diary. Please just console me, Diary, and condole my grief, and take this my secret hurt, and bury it in your pages. Love, me.
 
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