Normally it takes a lot to stir me to wrath. I am, by most opinions, a man of placid temperament, not easily given to anger. But sometimes... sometimes something just makes you so angry that all the shrugging of shoulders and changing of subjects won't restore one's equanimity. Sometimes, one has to just stand up and be counted.
There is a group of people who have suffered, over recent years, the most dreadful calumnies and misrepresentation and I for one am sick and tired of letting it go by unanswered. If they cannot or will not defend their own reputation, then by goodness I will.
I am talking about the finest group of men and women that the British Isles has ever produced; a group who have brought tears of joy to more families than we can ever be truly know, a group whose relentless, tireless works for the betterment of people throughout the world will stand as a monument to both altruism and a steadfast commitment to basic human rights. They are, of course, the Irish Republic Army.
This fine and generous group has, over the past several years, seen their public persona usurped by the media and twisted to the point where it is almost unrecognizable. I'm not just talking about the little things here either, like Madeline Albright's snub some years ago when she refused to recognize their decades of effort in the field of international terrorism. Nor, even, the cringingly poor attempts of Hollywood to jump on the IRA bandwagon. They are so much more than just a bunch of kindly, white-haired Irish grandfathers with a penchant for booze and a twinkle in their eye.
How they must have suffered through the pain of having Richard Gere, *RICHARD GERE,* play one of their number in The Jackal. Oh, the shame. A man who not only allegedly puts rodents in his bottom but actually *looks* like a rodent recently extracted from someone's nether regions. But did they speak out? Did they defend themselves in any way?
No.
They bore this slight with the same quiet grace that has characterized their public face for nearly more years than I can remember.
And now the final ignominy. I read only yesterday that a Canadian software company is writing a 'first person shooter' game in which players can take the part of IRA 'operatives' and shoot their way through the security forces stationed in Belfast.
Look. If you're going to make a game that depicts the excitement and thrill of being part of the IRA's elite 'active cells' then at least get your facts right. The IRA discovered *years* ago that if you shoot trained soldiers who carry guns, it's bad.
They shoot back.
So, showing the kind of flexibility that is a model to corporate planners everywhere, they rapidly shifted to what are euphemistically known as 'soft targets.'
That's "soft" as in "easy" and "soft" as in "likened unto a small child's limbs."
I can only hope that the final release of the game will have beautiful, artistically rendered cut scenes involving a father trying to find his eight year old son's face. Or maybe someone vainly attempting to piece together what's left of their wife, bleeding to death from wounds that would make a battlefield surgeon pale. I remember fondly how the good men, and women (the IRA was always an equal opportunity employer,) from the Emerald Isle would pop explosive devices in trash receptacles in crowded shopping centers. Let's see this kind of thing in games, not that silly 'shoot at the tank' nonsense that no self respecting freedom fighter would ever stoop to. Let's see them kneecapping petty thieves who didn't pay their protection fees on time. And I can only hope that we get chance to play 'plant the car bomb.'
I know that's the way the IRA would want to be remembered, so let's not do them any more injustices.
Come on guys, credit where credit's due.