You know what? The problem really isn't guns. Much as I dislike the things. Much as I would prefer to see them all turned to scrap metal. But no, the problem is not guns. It is mass psychiatric disorder. There are plenty of guns all over the world, but it is only in America that it occurs to so many people that they ought to run out and shoot perfect strangers. Like, Ah now I have a gun, I'd better see how many people I can kill.
Around about the time I was graduating from high school and heading off to university, early 70's, I remember suddenly thinking one day, Wait a minute, the unwavering tune I've been hearing for so long is not at all consistent with the underlying rhythm or harmony. This is not the America I have been taught from birth, this is not the land of the free and the home of the brave, with freedom and justice for all, the good society, the paragon of human rights, God's favorite team. This is crazy! This is madness! Cities are rotting at the core, People are starving, robbing, preying on each other, recognizing no law other than that posed by the armed police officer. Serial killers are roaming in the land, Manson, Speck, Bundy, Lucas, Ramirez, Rader, Ridgeway, the Zodiac Killer. I could go on. They are countless. They are legion. Rapists, molesters, sadists, killers. We lock our cars, we lock our front doors, and we no longer sleep a summer night in the back yard.
We are not at the mercy of guns. We are at the mercy of people. Not foreigners, not immigrants, not Arabs or Muslims, not blacks, not whites, not Mexicans, not Socialists, not inner-city dwellers, not firearm enthusiasts. We are at the mercy of a creeping national disease of mass insanity that has somehow, who knows how, been in America's gene pool from the beginning and has grown with the insidious energy of a cancer.
In that youthful time of mine, I felt an intense sadness, a sense of painful regret, sorrow, disillusionment mitigated only by a stubborn unwillingness to believe, otherwise known as hopefulness.
But it is too late, my friends. We are the victims of the mystery of iniquity, and I'm sorry, but it is far too late to change. We can not go back and do it over again. We are left instead with only this to say:
Brothers and sisters, goodbye.
Around about the time I was graduating from high school and heading off to university, early 70's, I remember suddenly thinking one day, Wait a minute, the unwavering tune I've been hearing for so long is not at all consistent with the underlying rhythm or harmony. This is not the America I have been taught from birth, this is not the land of the free and the home of the brave, with freedom and justice for all, the good society, the paragon of human rights, God's favorite team. This is crazy! This is madness! Cities are rotting at the core, People are starving, robbing, preying on each other, recognizing no law other than that posed by the armed police officer. Serial killers are roaming in the land, Manson, Speck, Bundy, Lucas, Ramirez, Rader, Ridgeway, the Zodiac Killer. I could go on. They are countless. They are legion. Rapists, molesters, sadists, killers. We lock our cars, we lock our front doors, and we no longer sleep a summer night in the back yard.
We are not at the mercy of guns. We are at the mercy of people. Not foreigners, not immigrants, not Arabs or Muslims, not blacks, not whites, not Mexicans, not Socialists, not inner-city dwellers, not firearm enthusiasts. We are at the mercy of a creeping national disease of mass insanity that has somehow, who knows how, been in America's gene pool from the beginning and has grown with the insidious energy of a cancer.
In that youthful time of mine, I felt an intense sadness, a sense of painful regret, sorrow, disillusionment mitigated only by a stubborn unwillingness to believe, otherwise known as hopefulness.
But it is too late, my friends. We are the victims of the mystery of iniquity, and I'm sorry, but it is far too late to change. We can not go back and do it over again. We are left instead with only this to say:
Brothers and sisters, goodbye.
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