“Me and Charles Krauthammer?! We’re like THIS, you know what I mean?”

Yesterday, I wrote that I examined had all the unfounded theories about the Boston Marathon bombing and reached a conclusion (emphasis added):

Frankly, looking at the above, I’m coming to believe that everyone is over-thinking the bombing.  If we just step back and ignore historic trends, iconic locations, modus operandi, and such other things, there are two things that are very clear:  the bomb was meant to sever limbs (report after report emphasizes severed legs) and it took place at a race.  Apply Occam’s Razor, and its obvious that the dark-skinned man now being sought (sorry David Sirota:  it’s not a white guy) hates runners.  Probably he ran the marathon once and lost, and has never recovered from that psychic injury — so he planted a bomb that would cause the greatest possible injury to runners.  This horror was an anti-running terrorism attack.  The appropriate response is mental screening for all runners and non-runners alike.

That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

I think Charles Krauthammer has been reading the Bookworm Room because today, he wrote this (emphasis added):

There was no need to be so sensitive, however. The president said that terrorism is any bombing aimed at civilians. Not quite. Terrorism is any attack on civilians for a political purpose. Until you know the purpose, you can’t know if it is terrorism.

Sometimes an attack can have no purpose. The Tucson shooter who nearly killed Representative Gabrielle Giffords was simply deranged, a certified paranoid schizophrenic. Or there might be some personal vendetta — a purpose, but not political. In the Boston case, conceivably a grudge against the marathon, its organizers, or something associated with the race.

Krauthammer actually wrote a lot more than that, and you should read it all, but I was so charmed to see that he came to the same conclusion as I — that we don’t have enough data to know what the bombing means — that I just had to stop and crow for a minute.  Honestly, if you didn’t know that I’d never met the man and, moreover, that you could clone me multiple times and I still wouldn’t have his brain wattage, you’d think we were siblings under the skin.