If You Want To Read A Bold, Gleaming Essay Representing The Position That Not Believing The "It" In The Present King Kong Op Is Also Not Shameful, And Be Glad YOU Didn't Have To Say It...

Here It Is, From Miri's Massive Missives

Miri’s Massive Missives’ article can be read here.

Thank you Deenzy, for bringing it to my attention.

It’s way more bold and assertive than I dared be, in my first foray in this, published yesterday.

Mrs. Kirk, I will say, presents a new dilemma.

I have never, ever encountered a subject, person, media event, that stopped me as cold in my tracks. By this I mean: I couldn’t make a sound. Paralyzed. I could not describe what I saw or felt. Why? Because I could not believe myself.

It was too close to a hallucination—Alice in Wonderland level strange. It made sentences impossible. I could only point to it and run out of the forest hoping somebody else might try to describe it. How can one describe something so “off” when it is spiritually wrong, we all agree, to attack a grieving widow? We are left with no choices.

But I find one patch I dare stand on.

I was angry, downright angry, for the child, or possible child, being exploited for cuteness effect, the “blueberry budget,” and not being answered with respect when she (allegedly) asked: “Where’s Daddy?”

This made me so angry partly due to the fact my own mother vanished for 8 months when I was 6 (she’s been sent to a hospital in Sweden) and every grown up lied to me, but differently. I went mad, I stopped eating, it was a massive, massive trauma, to be lied to as a child about my missing mother. (She came back. And when she did, my sister and I first believed she was a mirage, for a few seconds of “freeze.”)

By the way, I thought the children, and Mrs. Kirk, were present?

May God forgive me if my attitudes are uncharitable.

I really can’t stand people who lie to children, pretending it’s better, somehow. Lord have mercy, the child will grow up thinking her father had to disappear to afford her blueberries? And Jesus sort of borrowed him, for this?

The name of Jesus—that highest name— is being hideously cheapened.

I feel.

I do not want to “attack” Mrs. Kirk, I seriously do not want to, but I can really, really stand on solid ground fuming over what apparently passes for how to talk to children about the death of a parent in MAGA-Christian circles these days. The children were used as MAGA-Props, always filmed from behind, being flawlessly cute, before various iconic American scenic backdrops.

Somehow I have managed to get most angry about how these children, these nameless, faceless children, have been used.

I hope I have explained it with justification.

An aside:

Roy Cohn (yes) told my father not to put my mother’s letters or calls through to us so we would, after 6 months, forget her. He was my father’s ally, friend, divorce lawyer, sort of. The decision was not characteristic of my father, to be fair. I just remember the terror, the unending dread, the desperation to find a single adult who would tell me the truth.

We begin to see that even our own lives, as we understand them, “make no sense” like all these OPS. Our memories are possibly only fragments, misunderstandings. One begins to wonder what “reality” really is, and that’s very disorienting.

But I know what I was put through and I insist upon the right to be frustrated, let’s call it, with Mrs. Kirk for this grave abandonment of her child’s rights.

Regardless of who or what is real in this crazy thing.

Why do the children not have names?

Looks like I’ve hit upon some trauma work over here.

I know this is one hell of a digression, but it’s the true source of my anger right now. And we strive to keep it real here.