You know you’re in trouble when someone begins a sentence by claiming to love something in a tone of voice that suggests they’re about to trash-talk it in the next breath. People will say something like, Hey, I love my sister, but… and then go on to describe the many ways her behavior and personality are objectionable.  

The I love opener is a conversational drumroll announcing the imminent arrival of something insulting, offensive, mean-spirited, or socially unacceptable. I love vegetarians, some people will say, and then go on to describe (accurately, in my view) vegetarians. Or I love the English people or I love the elderly followed by a screed against old people and drunks.

That’s the classic form of this kind of disclaimer. First, you declare your love or respect or great concern for something. And then you throw in a “but” and make a violent U-turn. The idea here is that the opening declaration detoxifies what comes next. It takes the venom out of the bite.

I consider myself a passionate environmentalist, someone once told me, and then insisted that his company should not be fined for dumping industrial and chemical waste into a river. I take no side here — whether or not chemical dumping is good or bad or if the river had it coming or if it’s just the price we all pay to live in a modern society. I just note that a person who directs his company to pollute a river with factory waste can be many things, but a “passionate environmentalist” is not one of them. Still, with his disarming opening words, the guy I was talking to ensured that I didn’t think he was a bad person. He’s basically a good guy who loves nature and, occasionally, poisons sea creatures.

Now, I said all of that so I could say this: I was recently invited to an evening of theater that promises to be a searing and deeply moving experience. A team of extremely talented writers and producers have created a production made up entirely of verbatim eye-witness accounts of the victims of the attacks in Israel on Oct. 7. They tell me it’s a gut-wrenching and powerful two hours that I will never forget, with firsthand, graphic testimony to the unspeakable violence that Hamas terrorists did to thousands of Israeli innocents. 

“I’ll save you a seat in the front row,” one of the producers told me.

“Gosh,” I said, “I’m not sure I can make it that night.”

“But I haven’t told you what night it’s playing,” was the confused and vaguely accusing reply. There was an awkward pause as I gathered my thoughts. 

Look, there’s no way I’m going to that play, worthy and important though it is, but I didn’t want my friend to think I was a bad person. (I am a bad person, but on this specific issue I’m with the good guys.) So it was a delicate moment. If ever there was a situation that required the Loud Disclaimer at the top, this was it.

So here goes: I consider myself a staunch supporter of Israel, and I believe firmly that the current war in Gaza was the unavoidable consequence of Hamas’s murderous actions, along with the unwillingness of Western nations to punish Iran in a meaningful and lasting way for its support of terrorism. 

But, you know, two hours? In the front row? So I can’t even slip out in the dark unobtrusively? The truth is, I don’t think I need two whole hours. I read about as much as I could take in the immediate aftermath of the events, and what I realized was that I don’t like reading stuff like that. It’s upsetting and horrific, and while it’s culturally and politically necessary to have on permanent record — even now, a few months later, Hamas and its allies on American university campuses are trying to erase the facts of what happened — I’m way too squeamish for this sort of thing.

That’s what I should have said. But even while framing the disclaimer in my head, I knew it would come out wrong, and then the rest of my words would seem insensitive or insufficiently outraged by the events of Oct. 7. So I hemmed a bit and hawed some, and I’ll let you know how the play is.

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Rob Long is a television writer and producer, including as a screenwriter and executive producer on Cheers, and he is the co-founder of Ricochet.com.