Happy September 11th

Last year I told my sister and her boyfriend about my idea for a September 11th party. Sarah was into it, but Rob looked kind of disgusted.
"Yeah, we'd have a cake, which we'd probably need to decorate ourselves, cause you know Ukrop's wouldn't write 'Happy September 11th' on it for us. And we could play 'Have You Forgotten' and all that other really awesome country music, and maybe we could even get two guys to dress up like Bush and Osama bin Laden and they could play fight."
And then Rob said, "I think that's really fucked up." He was right of course, but that doesn't make it a bad idea. Lots of things are fucked up but still worth doing, voting for example.

Here's a loosely related story (related in the sense that in both instances I was an insensitive prick):

One Sunday I was driving to lunch with my friend Cara, when a group of people, an elderly couple and five or six children, walked out directly in front of me. I don't entirely believe her, but Cara claims they were on their way to church. Incensed that I had to brake, I flicked them all off. They saw me clearly, and Cara claims that one of the children started crying. She remembers this well, and likes to tell our mutual friends about it over meals and at parties, possibly to get back at me for telling everyone at our store that she has backhair. And she does-- thick wooly backhair. Like a sweater.