Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com
Yes, There was a
Manifesto
In
the midst of a world of light and love, of song and feast and dance, he could
find nothing to think of more interesting than his own prestige.
-C. S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost
This scribble began as a consideration of the sad sack of
s(lop) – hardly a man – who murdered mostly elderly shoppers and a stand-up
retired police officer.
Aaron Salter, Jr., 55 and recently retired after thirty
years with the Buffalo, New York police, surely understood that with only a
pistol he would not probably survive his defense of his fellow Americans against
an orc wearing body armor and armed with a .556 semi-automatic rifle.
There are still heroes among us, and Officer Salter was
one of them.
In the event, last weekend featured numerous other murders and
woundings of ordinary Americans by other Americans in church, at sports events,
and at community festivities. No other nation needs to bother attacking us; we’re
destroying ourselves.
The speculations we all still have about the sad sack of s(lop)
murdering old people in a supermarket extend now to all the sad sacks of s(sop)
who, in a world of possibilities, found nothing more to do with their weekend
than compensate for their inadequacies by shooting unarmed people.
Let us anchor the discussion in the first orc:
Grandpa’s old single-shot for rabbit hunting and secured
with a trigger lock with the key kept by Dad when not in use – we get that; it’s
a piece of Americana. But a semi-automatic
rifle in a combat calibre and a G. I. Joe dress-up play-soldier suit – that’s
pathological.
About the wannabe soldier thing - did he make the first day
of recruit training? Or did he just know about video games?
Did he ever consider joining the volunteer fire department
or some other worthy cause?
Did he play football, join the band, belong to the FFA, take
a shop class, join the Scouts, help with the little kids at Sunday School, or
belong to a club?
Did he ever have a job – sack boy, fast-food, mechanic’s
helper, anything? Who paid for the three weapons he is reported to have been carrying?
And the body armor? That’s not cheap.
Did he ever mow the yard?
Could he cook a simple meal?
Did he ever help wash dishes, vacuum the floors, wash the windows,
or do the laundry?
Did he ever change the oil and hit the lube points in a
tractor, pickup truck, or car?
Did he ever help build fence? Did he even know what a carpenter’s
hammer is for?
Did he ever wrestle a rotor-tiller around the garden?
Did he ever have to take care of little brothers and
sisters?
Did he ever question the illogical, immoral, and
unscientific race theories fed to him?
If you were to ask him about his favorite book, would the
response be a blank stare or even a sneer of disapproval?
Did he have a purpose, a life-plan, a cause beyond whatever
nonsense was programmed into his little brain from the InterGossip?
In the end, it’s not that we ask such questions about him;
we ask them about ourselves and about how we raise our children and
grandchildren.
Peace.
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