I have a feeling that all those calling for the end of guns have underestimated the ingenuity of angry, frustrated people. I used to read the Manchester Guardian and UK Sun and was puzzled by all the campaigns to end knife crime. It culminated after a minor member of the Harry Potter cast was stabbed to death in a nightclub fight. (just like Marlowe)There was talk of banning sales of cutlery to those under 21. But knives, guns, catapults, bazooka’s and field level tactical nuclear devices are not the culprits; It’s people.
Most people will never admit they’ve been angry enough to cause harm. And in crimes of passion, anger, rage, frustration the determined rageaholic will prevail with any weapon. An abused wife beaten severely about the face and head with a whole dried salami. And we all know Cain, who slew his brother Abel, out of jealousy, with a large stone. My brother pissed me off and I didn’t go all geological on him, but instead i peed on his toothbrush, and deep sixed it in my ass. it’s cakey and mungy.
Before I go deeper into the current zeitgeist outrage I must disclose. I am a rageaholic, I am gay, I have a sick and twisted sense of humor. I survived several nights at Plato’s Retreat and was present for the birth of my son (regular) and daughter (Caesarean) so gore is no problem. I also worked in a convalescent home and have watched 5 people die. I did not just stand by. There was a most compassionate protocol. If family members not around we, the staff would sit “shiva” and vigil by holding their hands and playing music from their pasts. We often lit candles, I a Latin enthusiast would intone “In nominee Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti” Alice Rubin would say Kaddish and Leila, a Lebanese refugee from the 1970’s civil war would help wash the body, as according to the Koran. Even the tough as nails Madler brother, a cook from Farmington Valley’s own Hell’s Angels family would clip flowers and send them in on a dinner tray. The next day Linda, the head nurse would place a memorial poster in the dining room with the name of the departed in glitter and pictures if available. The reverence was palpable, but I got far more out of it than the deceased, the service was for us, the departed were mostly unaware. When Louise, who was the favorite of the head aide Pam died, Pam drove in on her day off, from Wolcott, to oversee, Louise had been very non-verbal, but when Pam entered the room for the last time, she weakly said “thank you”. In tears, we all gave them a moment. Holly Hill was a compassionate place.