Saturday, September 18, 1982

Sabra and Shatila

I got info’ this morning from Watermouth about registration for classes, etc.

It was too warm again. I called round for Lee and we went into Easterby where I got awful passport photos of myself. I look like Quasimodo with my beetling brows and twisted leering face. I bought a London Transport busman’s jacket cheap from the Oxfam shop.

In Lebanon yesterday, hundreds of men, women, children and babies were murdered by a right-wing militia, with the connivance of the Israelis: corpses lying where they’d been shot, bullet holes and bloodstains marking the walls. This was done in retaliation for Gemayel’s murder by leftists. I noticed how Dad was strangely silent, but spouted off about Japanese imports later.

The news nowadays is just a black and bloody catalogue of human shit. We humans are not fit even to live on earth.

As if to emphasise and highlight all of this, the news was followed by a film about a crazed psycho gunman blowing peoples' heads off with a rifle at a US football match; scenes of panic or stampeding crowds, people getting crushed and being felled by bullets.

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