A Sunday Message
Several years ago, I gave up on caring about what people think. I accepted the fact that I’m going to say, do, wear, post, respond, blog, tweet, take photos of, record, and create things that may be completely pointless to most and probably will make me look absolutely ridiculous. Ridiculous is what I aim for. If I can get at least one person to laugh, even for the slightest moment, then that day is a good day. Because whatever is going on in your life, for that brief moment, you forgot about it. I like the fact that I can be friends with everyone.
When I was 23, I joined the Masonic lodge in Eagle River (Eagle River #13). I was the youngest first degree mason in the state of Alaska at the time. There I found men whom after I looked to as brothers, all from a variety of generations and all with different backgrounds, religions, and history. Most of them veterans or active duty military, all contributors to a society that I came to see as a crumbling culture in serious need of a swift kick in the ass. The application was fairly short but the waiting process was long. On the application was a small space to write my reasons and interests in becoming a mason. This wasn’t enough space. I had to write an essay. Ten pages later, six of which were mess-ups crumbled on the floor, I had the fine tuned four page essay ready to be read out loud among dozens of soon to be brethren. Most of it explained who I was, what I believed in, and of course my reasons for wanting to join. I wanted more history, I wanted to make myself a better man, I wanted to be a part of something ancient that helped carve this country from the beginning, the good, the bad, the ugly. I wanted to be surrounded by more history, living history. Men who have seen what is now considered the old. I was born in the wrong era and I wanted to be connected with a better one.
Now I truly don’t care what side you’re on politically. Liberal, republican, democrat, green party, hippies, whatever. We’re all the same in the end. A good friend once told me that “it wont matter because in a million years we’ll all be dead and no one will even care”. He’s right. Now trust me I’m an advocate for chaos now days, so my views may be a little “everything burns” kind of thing. I’m a firm believer in shouting at the top of your lungs the things you believe in. Make it loud and make it noticed, even if it’s just you. Because even if you’re the only one being loud, you’re king of the world for that little moment because hey, no one else is speaking up right?
Now the point of this post is coming. Yes I’m a believer in speaking and believing in what ever you want. But you’re about to meet the tyrant in me (my mind is a trench warfare 24/7, it is unstable, it forgets, it is love and it is war). Today is the day Westboro Baptist Church is going to protest the Alaska Native Heritage Center. Now granted, it is their right to shout and believe in whatever they want but this is where I draw the line. The moment you begin to shout hate towards people, military, the dead, ect. , you’re freedom of speech (to me) is now void. Your right to say what you want becomes invalid and you are no longer a part of the well oiled machine that was once this nation.
So through out my duties today, we will be on the lookout for WBBC. You may be able to get away with it in other states, where your numbers are larger, but I promise you. If you’re here, in my state, in my home, you will not be for long.
Ian Amidon, the Bourbon King.