Right and Wrong.
The Byrds, said it best when they said “Turn, Turn, Turn” or was that the Beatles? Ah, what the hell. Wait, this is supposed to be about free speech and all. Should speech be limited? The sword, you might say, cuts both ways. “These are the times,” said Paine, “that try men’s souls.” These certainly are the times. The other day, on “Marathon Monday,” runners thought that the explosions were celebratory fireworks. They weren’t. When is enough? When is a nail pounded hard enough? I can understand, no, wait, I can’t really. The First Amendment and all, the freedom of speech is supposed to have plenty of built in limits. After all, isn’t that what it is all about? Wow! I could swear that I just saw a freaky-looking High School student with purple hair walking down the street or was it a green-haired queer. Whatever the case, it doesn’t really bug me too much so long as that Red Sox ace pitcher doesn’t let that base runner get too far off third base to let the go ahead run score. “Boston Strong! Boston Strong!” (I am a Red Sox fan and bleed Red Blue and White…sox colors) Anyhow, on “Marathon Monday” Daniel Nava hit a three-run homer speaking for all Bostonians. The Chief of Police told Boston, that they would turn the city over, “hunt” the suspects down and bring them to justice. Therein, lies one of the problems of problems. What is enough? It isn’t enough to just take a chill pill, pass a stress test (but it probably wouldn’t hurt). People must be able to judiciously exercise those freedoms and see that free speech doesn’t encroach on the rights of others to voice their free speech that that is the real kicker. The toughest part of the whole free speech deal is biting your lip when it is bloody. Then a couple of rag-heads go bananas and set off a couple of bombs in your backyard. Okay, it turned out to be more like a smoking bazooka and make shift pressure cookers that blew the hell off everything from here to Russia to Chechnya and back. Seinfeld and the Soup Nazi would surely have stomped their collective feet, echoing, “Sorry, no more soup for you!”