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"Hurt"
by Claude Hall
Chapter Eleven
J.D. glared at Gertrude. She stood just inside the
doorway of the employee lounge, her hands at her side,
almost as if afraid to venture into no-man's land.
Her stance was quite uncharacteristic because she'd
never hesitated to barge into the lounge on previous
occasions. One of her hands was clinched into a fist,
and she seemed to be aware of it, but tried not to
make it obvious.
Instinctively, I knew that something was seriously
wrong. And I suppose J.D. had the same idea.
"Out of the question," J.D. said. There was
considerable snap to his voice. He drained his cup of
coffee and threw the Stryrafoam cup into the trash can
at the end of the couch.
She seemed rather perturbed that he had refused. She
also appeared to be confused as if she didn't know
quite what to do next. I could see that the mere
possibility of J.D. refusing to meet with Braun, god
almighty of the HRT Inc., had never occurred to her.
She turned to look at me, trying to appear very
ferocious. Frankly, she didn't need to try. Now that
I was more observant, I noticed the slight twist at
the corner of her mouth, the strange slant of her eyes
and the hard, cold glint almost hidden behind her
eyelashes.
There was an almost imperceptible tilt of J.D.'s head.
It was just a small jerk, but I got the message.
"Perhaps tomorrow evening," I said. "I have a very
important appointment this morning that I absolutely
can't miss."
"Tomorrow. Tell him that," J.D. said to Gertrude and
then, before she could object or say anything else, he
walked in that quick, slightly stiff manner over to
me, took me by the elbow, and guided me out the door
into the parking lot. He literally pushed me in the
direction of my pickup.
Then he leaped on his bicycle and rapidly pedaled
around the corner of the building toward home.
I took the hint, climbed into my pickup, started the
motor, and turned the radio up pretty loud to the
local Mexican-language radio station. They were
playing "La Bamba" which was in that movie about
Richie Valens. I had enjoyed the movie...maybe
because of the song.
Gertrude stood outside the door of the hospital. Her
mouth moved, but I couldn't hear a word. Her clenched
fist lifted slightly, twitching as if to fly away, but
she quickly pulled it back to her side.
I waved goodbye at her in what I hoped was a casual,
cheerful gesture.
For some reason, traffic was heavy all the way home.
And a police helicopter circled like a hawk in the
distant sky over toward Eastern. Someone had probably
robbed another bank. One afternoon, I walked into a
bank on Flamingo just as an FBI agent was coming out
from investigating a robbery. It turned out that
particular bank had been robbed three times within the
past 12 months. In many ways Las Vegas is the last
frontier in America.
I was pretty shook up. Perhaps it was because of the
traffic. Maybe it was because old man Braun had
called us on the carpet one more time. I didn't know
how many times you were allowed to make mistakes. I
didn't even know what kind of mistake had been made.
Maybe he was blaming the picketeers yesterday evening
on us. Maybe it had something to do with the other
night. The riot on Industrial. True, there had not
been the expected quota of casualties. But anyone in
their right mind would have known the police would be
all over a situation like that.
Something else had been bothering me, though. An idea
that wouldn't go away. Something that kid had
mentioned that night. I kept trying to chase it away,
but the idea kept coming back.
"Pizza," said Amanda the minute I walked into the
apartment. "I ordered in."
"Good move," I said. "I love pizza."
"That's why I ordered large."
"I hope you also ordered one for yourself."
"No one can eat a whole pizza!"
"Sometimes," I said.
"Well, not tonight. I fixed a salad. Fill up on
salad. Salads are good for you."
"Right after this phone call," I said.
The metro police wouldn't let me talk to Ed Esposito.
They said he wasn't in. I told the police officer on
the other end of the phone that I knew about his
bullet wound and realized that he wouldn't be back on
duty yet. They also wouldn't give me his home phone
number, but they were willing to take a message and
pass it along when Esposito came back to duty in a
week or so. I said I understood and that would be
okay. I gave the guy my name and home phone number.
The pizza was pretty good. Extra cheese and heavy on
the sausage.
This morning, we had a videotape of "My Fair Lady."
Probably no death of any movie star shook me up as
much as the death of Audrey Hepburn. Not only was she
extremely pretty, but I thought she was one of the
most entertaining actresses ever in the movies.
Maureen O'Hara ran a close second because of all of
those films she made with John Wayne. Comedy mixed
with a lot of action is usually always a winner. But
Audrey Hepburn was absolutely sensational in
"Breakfast at Tiffany" and "Sabrina" with
Bogie and
especially in "My Fair Lady." Her death had been
like
the end of an era in the movies. Those kinds of
movies would probably never happen again.
"I like Rex Harrison," Amanda said. "He was the
star
of 'My Fair Lady'."
"Hush," I said. "You'll spoil the movie."
"Not for me," she said.
About halfway through the film, the telephone rang and
it was Ed Esposito.
"I thought they said I couldn't talk to you."
"The other day, I sort of got the impression you
didn't want any publicity so I didn't put anything in
the report. But I told some of my friends on the
police force. When they found out who it was on the
telephone, a beat cop named Keith called me.
Interrupted my breakfast."
"You've got funny hours," I said. "I've just
finished
eating dinner. How's the wound?"
"A Bandaid. Couple of aspirins. I was more pissed
off than hurt."
I asked if he remembered the kid with the tow hair.
"About 12 or 13 years old. Bright kid. Had an
automatic weapon."
"They all had tow hair and automatic weapons."
"This was that kid I brought in first. I'd consider
it a favor if I could talk to him for a few minutes in
private."
"Hell, Chuck. I'm not even sure I can locate him.
They might have even turned him loose by now."
"Turned him loose?"
"We simply don't have lockup room for all of the kids
getting into trouble these days. We book them. Most
are paroled to their parents or some makeshift
so-called guardian. They're back on the street in
hours. The only good news is that we keep the guns."
"That's nice to know," I said.
"I'll do some checking and get back to you," he told
me.
Amanda had stopped the movie to wait for me to finish
the phone call. She handed me a glass of cold milk as
I hung up the phone.
I slumped onto the couch and sipped at the milk.
"Must have been bad news for you to lose your
appetite," she said. "There's a piece of pizza
left."
I shook my head. The milk was good. But I no longer
felt like pizza. Of course, I'd already had four or
five large slices.
"Was Las Vegas always this messy?" I asked. "Was it
this violent in the old days?"
She'd changed into some pretty nice clothes and
sandals and fixed her hair up in a bun at the back of
her neck. The way she looked now, you'd have thought
she was someone's grandmother or older aunt.
She sat down with a cup of tea in the easy chair, her
legs tucked up under her.
"No. When I was growing up, the gangsters still ruled
the city. Not openly. But it was pretty much of a
fact, you can count on it. They kept things under
control. Crime, I mean. You didn't have all of these
bank robberies. And the small stores like 7-11 were
safe as your living room. Any petty crook stepped out
of line, he soon disappeared. The old crowd didn't
want to attract too much attention because it would
scare away the high rollers."
"What happened? What caused everything to go downhill
like it is today?"
"The book keepers took over. Clear and simple. The
book keepers. In the old days, the casinos would let
you into a show for almost nothing. I'm talking about
Frank Sinatra on stage in his prime. With dinner
thrown in and maybe a glass of champagne. I loved
Sammy Davis Jr. What an entertainer! I used to see
his show at least once a year. Everything was cheap
or very reasonable. They wanted you to gamble. Now
days, the book keepers want to make money on the
rooms, the meals, the drinks, the shows. And the dice
tables, too. It's a big racket today. In the old
days you had the racketeers, perhaps, and you can take
my word for it, a lot of them had a certain class
about them. But today, it's all a big racket. Las
Vegas is no longer the entertainment capital of the
world. It's a den of pickpockets, thieves,
cutthroats, vipers, and that ilk. There is nothing
worse than a pickpocket in a tuxedo."
"Did you know Bugsy Siegel?"
"Wash your mouth out with soap," she snapped. "I'm
not that old."
Around 10 a.m., Esposito called back and told me where
to go. "Don't say a hell of a lot and do what you're
told to do. I mean, don't cause any trouble. Okay?"
I said okay.
I had an hour to kill, so we saw the rest of the movie
only I found it a little difficult to get absorbed in
it again. That's a pity, because it's probably one of
the best movies ever made. George Bernard Shaw really
knew how to tell a good story.
Before I left, I cautioned Amanda to keep the door
locked.
"You never can tell," I said.
"Cutthroats and vipers?"
"Worse."
"Was that one of them on the phone a minute ago?"
"Golly, no. That was one of the good guys. Most of
the time. The police. There was a riot the other
night on Industrial. I would like to find out who
started it."
"I heard about it. It was on television."
"It was the stuff that wasn't on television that I
need to know," I said. "You ever hear anything about
ghosts?"
Her face paled a little. "The kind in scary tales?"
"I don't know precisely what kind," I said. "One of
the kids involved in the riot on Industrial mentioned
the word ghost. Maybe he was talking about a gang or
something. I thought I'd try to talk to him."
"Were you in that riot?"
"I'm an ambulance driver, remember?"
"You be careful," she said.
"You, too," I said.
The Las Vegas detention center for juveniles looks a
little like a concentration camp. Of course, I've
never actually seen a concentration camp except in
movies and the one I had in mind was that one in
"Stalag 17." I guess when you come right down to it,
the one here in Las Vegas wasn't all that bad. It
sure beat the one I stayed in for a few days back in
Tennessee. Or maybe that was Missouri. I was around
sixteen years old at the time and I hadn't liked it
very much.
I parked my pickup and found the office. Ed Esposito
was there, leaning on a crutch.
"Looks real pitiful," I said, admiring his crutch.
"I thought I told you not to say anything," Esposito
said. He grinned.
"My name is Keith James," said an officer in uniform
standing with Esposito. "Did Esposito here really get
shot in the ass?"
"In the leg," I said.
"I knew the asshole was lying," said James.
"You talk too much," Esposito told me.
"You mean it's better to get shot in the tail than the
leg?"
"You get shot in the ass, they can't slap you on a
desk job until it heals," James explained.
We shook hands.
"Anything that might resemble a weapon?"
"No. A small pen knife."
"Better turn it in just to be safe," said James
James turned in his weapon to an officer at a cage and
then led me through the building and outside. A huge
wire fence surrounded the compound.
"This building over here," said James.
We had to wait for Esposito to catch up.
Another police officer confronted us just inside the
frame structure. He'd already been briefed, I guess,
because he went over and unlocked a door and told
someone to come out. It was the kid I'd captured the
other night during the riot.
The officer wasn't all that happy, however, about me
being with the kid alone. Esposito and James
explained that they would be in sight.
"This kid is a tough one," the officer said.
"You should see my friend here in action," said
Esposito.
"He the one?"
"Yes," said Esposito.
The man took a serious glance at me.
"Heavy," he said.
He nodded at me, took the kid's hands and handcuffed
them behind his back. "Ten minutes," he said and
pushed the kid my direction.
The kid sneered at the cop.
James took him by the shoulder and we all stepped
outside and moved over to a shady spot created by an
overhanging roof. Although it was still a while
before noon, the sun had turned the day into an oven.
In another month, the heat would attack like hard
thunder. Right now, it was just hot. And even when
you stood in the shade it wasn't all that cool.
"We'll be over there," said Esposito, nodding in the
direction of another small patch of shade by a nearby
building.
As soon as they walked away, I held out a couple of
Snicker candy bars toward the kid. "Pure and outright
bribery," I told him.
He shrugged. "I don't know anything,"
I placed them in his shirt pocket.
"I realize that," I said.
"Funny. I didn't take you for a cop."
"Don't think I could qualify," I said. "Not the
type."
"What are you anyway?"
"An ambulance driver," I said.
"For a hospital?"
I couldn't be positive, but I thought I noticed a
flash of fear in his eyes.
"Yes," I said.
He drew in a quick breath of air.
"Then the only question left is, which hospital?"
I took a chance.
"The wrong one," I said.
He just nodded. Then he looked quickly in the
direction of Esposito and James, as if he might need
help.
"Did I hurt you the other night?"
He shook his head rapidly from side to side.
"Then why should I hurt you now? Here in the middle
of a million cops?"
Some of the tension seemed to withdraw from his
shoulders.
He leaned his shoulder against the waIl. I squatted
on my heels beside him.
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But...."
"All I want to know," I said, "is who staged that
little cartoon drama the other night and why."
"You're also pretty bright," he said after a moment of
thought.
"Not as bright as I should be, maybe, but it began to
dawn on me that there were a lot of bodies scattered
that night on the street, yet when all of the cops
came they seemed to get up and run away."
"Amazing, wasn't it?" said the kid.
"Like ghosts," I said. I waited.
"Simply amazing."
"In spite of all that gunfire, there was only one
casualty. And not even many wounded seriously."
His head dipped, but he never took his eyes off of me
now.
"An accident," he said. "He was supposed to go out
the back. Must have been some reason he didn't. But
that's what was supposed to happen."
"Was he a friend?"
"Not really. I may have known two or three of those
involved...and maybe not. But most of them were, like
me, hired to do a show. That's what it was, we were
told. A show. No real bullets. No bombs. Someone
crossed us up."
"You know the person who hired you?"
"There was a girl. About sixteen or seventeen years
old. Ponytail. That was the one. I never saw her
before. Some of the others were hired by her, too.
Paid us half upfront. The rest was to come later.
But, of course, you spoiled that for me."
"I'm sorry about the money," I said. "I'm willing
to
make it up."
"That okay," he said. "That's what I get for
getting
caught."
"You want me to help with a lawyer?"
"Why?" he asked.
"I don't know. Just seems like the thing to do."
He shrugged. "If I'm still in here in two or three
days, maybe I'll take you up on the lawyer deal.
Otherwise...."
He shrugged again.
"I appreciate the information," I said.
"What information?"
"Right," I said. "But I would consider it a big
favor
if you could tell me what you know about the dervish."
He thought a moment.
"That's a deal. But I've never heard anything.
There's no gang out there named anything like that so
far as I know. As for the word ghost, that was just
so we could identify each other."
"Thanks," I said.
I stood up and motioned to Esposito and James. They
walked quickly our direction.
"You forgot about the favor," the kid said before they
drew too near to hear.
"Name it."
"Never give me a ride in your ambulance," he said.
(to be continued)
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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Commentary
by
Claude Hall
December 29, 2003
by Claude Hall
When you cannot perceive the big lie, you are subject
to victimization by it or the ramifications
surrounding it. In the early 1950s, I drove up on a
high, snow-swept plateau not far from Idar-Oberstein
in Germany and noticed an area of rocks. Nothing but
rocks. Someone said it had been a village before
Hitler. That little village was set in its ways and
these were not the ways of Hitler. He had the village
destroyed, supposedly to mold Germans as one. We have
virtually the same situation in the United States. My
ways and the ways of more than half of the Americans
of the United States (see figures of the Gore v. Bush
voting farce) are not the ways of George W. Bush Jr.,
who evidently seeks to set himself up as some kind of
dictator (see Commentary, Dec. 22, 2003). The
question now arises: What is Bush going to do to
force subjugation of the more than half of the
population of America who refuse to dance to his
shrill song of death? Because, I assure you, there
are those who will not allow him to destroy our
"village." Not the way we think nor the culture
which
carved our lives. I may die. But I will not change.
Essentially, there are five methodologies associated
with control of human beings. First, force. You
shoot the dissident or detain them in some fashion.
Prison is the most-used detention methodology
although, if Iraq and Afghanistan are examples,
killing is not beyond possibility. Bush detained
suspected al-Queda people on the island of Cuba and
claimed they had no rights. What about the rights of
humans? Did they not have these rights? The rights
of human treatment and legal representation? We treat
dogs better. Or, at least I do.
Second, fraud or trickery, i.e., robbing U.S. citizens
of their right to vote as was accomplished in Florida
and more than likely elsewhere during the last
presidential elections (have you noticed how
everything was seemingly, quickly swept under the old,
proverbial rug?).
Third, persuasion; this is the reason d'etre behind
public relations. Our government has become quite
expert in the "political spin." It's not
the Iraqis
who're protesting our invasion of their country, it's
the "insurgents." The only problem is, our
government
doesn't mention that almost everyone in Iraq is an
insurgent.
In order to steal the title of president of the United
States, Bush and his father's "friends" robbed
many
Americans of their right to vote or have their vote
count. Now, he expects us not only to forget that,
but he seeks to rob us of our rights to perceive and
even to think. The major modus operandi for this
theft of reasoning capability is the media. We are
not being given a voice; the wealthy control all
media, especially radio and television and cable. The
ownership limitations that once prevented this have
been erased; there is no liberal voice of any
consequence allowed. This is the same thing that
happened in Nazi Germany prior to World War II; Joseph
Paul Goebbels, Hitler's propagandist, took over all
media. Result? The German people were lied to.
We
are being lied to. The lies mount. They will
continue. There is naught to prevent the lies because
no really free media exists in the United States this
day. My wife Barbara, who has trouble finding her car
keys, yet long ago recognized the lie; she has a
drawing of Bush with a long nose on the door of the
refrigerator.
Changing something considered bad to that approaching
acceptable is another modus operandi of population
control. This was accomplished by persuading people
that conservatism--i.e., I'm for me and to hell with
you--is okay and, in fact, better. Conservatism
ignores humanity except from the standpoint of trying
to tell them what to do, i.e., the prevention of
abortions while ignoring children around the world who
are sick or starving because, after all, it's their
fault, not the fault of the conservative per se. This
conservative modus operandi of thinking allowed Dick
Cheney, our supposed vice president, to walk away with
more than $30 million in bonus, which he gave himself,
from Halliburton and then aid Halliburton to land a
contract rebuilding Iraq. Why no one has questioned
this is completely unfathomable to me! Cheney should
be investigated and charged with stealing my
money...and your money, too, if you had stock in
Halliburton or any mutual fund that had stock in
Halliburton. I want my $30 million back!
Instead, it has become a terrible thing to be a
liberal. They tell me this. But I've been a liberal
so long such accusations don't bother me much. I've
been called worse. And may even be worse for I, first
evidently among many, realize my imperfections; I'll
voice this on my behalf: I at least attempt to be
better than I really may be. Anyway, I've got news
for you: Jesus Christ was a liberal. He healed the
sick. Free. He fed the hungry. Free. He
taught.
Free. He did not believe in punishment and prevented
harm upon all others to the best of his ability.
Free. Ergo, if you consider liberalism bad, you
cannot now be much of a Christian. What you may be is
actually debatable. But a conservative cannot be a
Christian; they are at different ends of the spectrum
from love and peace. Proof positive is that a
conservative government is responsible for the murders
in Iraq.
Fourth, fear. Do I need to elaborate? Perhaps the
most horrible methodology of them all for controlling
a specific population!
You ask what the fifth methodology of control is?
Politics, of course. The formation of rules and/or
laws that keep the population in line. Religion falls
in this same order, the present-day 10 commandments
were once a list that could not be carved even on the
stone face of a mountain; Moses reduced them to 10,
according to legend, because he simply didn't believe
the public would obey hundreds of rules. Anyway, many
of the rules were confusing and/or contradictory.
Turned out even the present 10 commandments is
confusing to many. The Republicans accuse Clinton of
violation of one of these and yet overlook the sins of
Bush Sr. and his mistress This, of course, represents
a mere fraction of the Republican hypocrisy. Is
hypocrisy a sin? Depends on who did it. We set up a
dictator in a country such as Iraq and when he thumbs
his nose at us, he's a villain and we charge him with
"war crimes." This, to me, is hypocrisy. We
accuse
him of murdering his people which is a ridiculous
accusation while we kill his people, especially women
and children, in the name of justice. This, to me, is
hypocrisy as well as a sin and a moral injustice.
Someone will eventually have to answer. Maybe Saddam
Hussein whose trial, if any, will be naught but a
farce. Certainly, a lot of others, including Bush and
Cheney, who will probably never be tried. Why kid
myself? Bush controls the Senate, the House, the
Supreme Court. Who's going to try him?
More about the big lie. Those not intelligent enough
to see the big lie, whatever that lie may be--or,
because of lack of perception or out of greed believe
in the lie--must of necessity resort to absurdity as
their sole defensive technique. The tendency is to
mount personal attacks against those who believe other
than as the totalitarian regime does. You cannot
imagine the names I've been called as the result of my
Christmas Commentary (website, Dec. 22, 2003). I was
even accused of treason by someone who obviously
doesn't know the meaning of the word, has never been
willing to shed blood for America, and would, at the
very least, deny me my constitutional rights of
freedom of speech. I was accused of hating the United
States, another absurdity, since I may dislike Enid,
OK, but would find it impossible to hate Austin, TX,
and love San Diego most severely; I merely hate what's
being done to my nation by Bush and his partners in
crime. Others claimed the attack of Iraq was
justified--thus the murder of children and women
justified--because of the "hundreds of
thousands" in
mass graves in that country...absurd prima facie. One
person citied the discovery of an arms cache in Iraq
the "size of Manhattan," another absurdity.
Lies upon
lies to make it appear as if the invasion of Iraq was
justified when no unprovoked war can possibly be
justified. Certainly not in the eyes of any God that
exists nor in any sane mind. Just FYI, present
attacks against American forces in Iraq use primarily
homemade bombs or grenade launchers and ancient
rifles. The grenade launcher was considered passé
even during in the U.S. army of the early 1950s. On
the other hand, our own forces wear bullet-proof
attire and carry a weapon of which we did not even
dream in WWII. A friend said it was the M-16. I
checked; the weapons in those night raids of civilian
homes in Iraq were not M-16s. They were something
else. And our forces invade only after bombs and more
bombs have rained down on the target. Attacks by
gun ships. The property destruction mounts. The
deaths grow in ghastly numbers. Most, you never hear
about.
Others who received my Christmas message, it appears,
merely use the old ostrich methodology of facing a
problem. Run or hide. They set up Spam blockers to
avoid truth...or, if not truth, even the concept of
debate on the issue. Five or six asked to be removed
from my mailing list. Done. But what a pity! It
merely means to me that they will do whatever
necessary to continue the big lie. Obviously, there
is no hope for these people. They would not fight
themselves in yonder war and would probably run as
Bush Jr. ran, but will eagerly pat on the back those
left alive after the war in which we're engaged, for
it is war and there's no other word for it except to
clarify it as a cruel and senseless war without
reason. They will ignore the hundreds of U.S.
soldiers getting wounded or killed over there, the
additional number committing suicide or trying to
attempt suicide, and shower them with phrases such as
"brave troops" when bravery is the least of it and
when these men and women return home finally (I hope)
toss up a monument to them and forget them. As
Americans did for those back from Korea, as Americans
did for those back from Vietnam. Some who still
suffer secret wounds (ah, Buddy Fornes, why did you
commit suicide...ah, Fernando, do you still sleep with
that loaded .45 Colt beneath your pillow?) and wounds
so psychological that doctors, too, pull an ostrich.
Many for whom Country Joe's "Fixing to Die Rag"
was a
sad and quite realistic battle anthem.
The whole Middle Eastern incident thus becomes farce!
Narrative farce. Historical farce. Bush farce.
Bush
is an absurd, horrible person. If truth is treason,
so be it!
This attack of Iraq, however, obviously serves Bush
another purpose other than to earn Vice President Dick
Cheney his multi-million-dollar "bonus" from
Halliburton.
I suspect that, increasingly, our rights as Americans
are being stolen under the pretense of "fighting
terrorists," i.e., a fear concept. If not this, then
some other pretense. We have colored terror alerts,
when the appropriate color might be mauve. They take
away my fingernail clipper at the airport when I know
how to kill people with my bare hands for I was taught
this when I was 13 or 14 years old in junior high
school at Brady, Texas. In simple, obvious terms:
Nine-Eleven appears to be Bush's "Watergate" a
la
Nixon...especially if, as rumors persist, the White
House knew about the impending attack, but did
nothing. But, really, this is so whether Bush knew
about it or not because he should have known about it.
Clear and simple.
Forget the big lie? Never! But worse, when you have
a given group of people in fear from terror, in fear
of dying of illness (lack of proper, obtainable
prescription drugs and proper medical care), of dying
of hunger, of not being able to find a meaningful job,
the possibility of them believing an even Greater Lie
is stronger than not. The even Greater Lie is that
Bush should run a second term when he should not...he
must not! America will find it extremely difficult to
survive another term of Bush in office. We should get
him gone; historically--figuratively and
psychologically--he is bad news. Horrible news!
OTHER VIEWS
Anastasia Pantsios, apantsios@freetimes.com:
Where's Osama?
Jerry Atchley, Jerry@SouthernSkies.com:
"First of all,
a happy holiday season to you. I read with great
emotion your recent message. I could feel your
passion and compassion, and Claude, I agree with you:
killing is immoral, period. It's a mystery to me why
we put killers to death. If God says we shouldn't
kill, what kind of example are we setting to kill
someone? We can put them away forever so that they
could never kill again. Our country wants blood, and
action, and revenge. We have raised a nation of cold
and ruthless people, and George Bush and his ilk feed
off the emotions of these people. Ghandi didn't lead
people into war; neither did Martin Luther King. What
happened to the principles they taught us? Sometimes
I'm a bit embarrassed and ashamed of my luck. I'm
healthy, I have a wonderful family, I can put good
food on the table and a good roof over our heads. We
won't go hungry or homeless or cold or unloved. But
far too many of us do. My prayer for you this season
is for peace. It may be too much to pray for peace
for the world, but I will pray for peace for you.
Please keep your provocative thoughts flowing, old
friend. I sent your comments to about 30 friends of
mine. This is the first response."
BetseyIris@aol.com: "thanks for sending
on...alas,
the man is right on and it makes me sick to think that
I am a citizen of a country that I love but that has
acted in a morally bankrupt, villainous way.
Sickening. Shameful. Sin. Satan."
Ron Bacon, ronbacon@esedona.net:
"As an evolved.
spiritual person may I suggest you check out Matthew
7. Regards and Best Wishes."
Don Ballard, MMDGB@aol.com:
"Thanks Claude...I
especially enjoyed reading this e-mail. I agree
fully."
Jay Blackburn, radiojdb@satx.rr.com:
"Thank you,
Claude. One of these days I will send you an email
concerning the lead weight of duty and how if you kill,
even in the "line of duty', you can never forgive
yourself. It stays with you all the rest of your life.
Again thank you. Maybe someone will understand. What
I meant to say was that it was beautifully written and
someone with an audience needed to say it. I'm just
part of the choir, but maybe some of the thousands
that do read it will be touched by the truth."
I wrote Jay: Still in the process of sorting
responses. Been called a few things already, but I
expected that. Barbara wanted me to hang a Christmas
wreath earlier and I told her I wasn't in charge of
hanging Christmas wreaths, just agitating people.
She said that I'd been in charge of that a long, long
time! Duty and necessity, I understand. As it states
in the Bible, let him who is without...cast the
first.... Many of us have worn that "duty"
shroud.
Before my own army days, I met a guy who'd been in
WWII. Came around a corner in a small German town and
there was a 12-year-old with a machine gun pointed at
him. I asked what he'd done. He said, "I'm
still
here." He never felt good about it, though. It's
those guys who feel good about something like that
whom I no long wish to know. I think Bush feels good
about it. But he never has had the obligation of
pulling the trigger himself. And that's the most
cowardly thing of all. My Christmas message was
mostly in hope of opening some minds. Which, as you
know, is sometimes difficult to do.
Ronald R. Brasi, ron@desertmedia.com:
"Nice letter. I
don't know who you are, but your thoughts resonate
with sincerity and concern. I agree to an extent with
most of what you say, and these are the reasons that
I've joined the Nevadans for Clark 2004. It takes a
lot of bad conduct in office to draw the passive
voters like us against a president. Enjoy your
holidays despite the trumpeting of the administration
over capturing a guy they took nine months to get and
has no impact on the current conflict (and oh, by the
way, had nothing to do with 9/11)."
Betty Breneman, tombreneman@juno.com:
"Claude, I have
just concluded reading your words of venom. I shall
pray fervently for you."
Scotty Brink, scottybrink@cox.net:
"Amen!"
Jack Weston Bullard, jackwb@cox-internet.com:
"I don't
know who you are or why I am on your email list...but
I am certain you are full of crap. Please eliminate
me from your drivel list."
Raul Cardenas, Ph.D., EnviroRaul@aol.com:
"Well said.
Bush is a terrible human being and shameful for a
Texan/Texican, etc. Of late I have come to consider
precisely the underlying question you raised, what is
this all about? The Patriot Act, pre-emptive war,
terrible planning, no consideration for humans,
gutting Medicare, tax give-back to those who are not
really in need, Halliburton and company feeding and
gouging at the troth in Iraq, squeezing out anyone
against the war from bidding, turning most of the
world against us, Bush people snooping at the kind of
books I checkout at libraries, prayer meetings in the
White House, accusations of disloyalty if the wars are
questioned. In short making me embarrassed to be an
American, wondering whether those words stating
freedom of speech and freedom from religion that our
forefathers ordained have meaning any more. Not only
that, people are afraid of criticizing the gang in
Washington, especially the press and the timid
presidential candidates who weasel word their remarks
against the Bush regime. Without belaboring these
points too much it is distinctly possible that a group
of rich, powerful and ruthless men who are entrenched
in an ill-won White Haus who have vested financial
interests (especially in the oil and energy racket)
who wish to make their group richer at the expense of
anything and to especially to preserve their power and
are willing to lie and say anything have a conspiracy
going. The idea is that they wish to reverse all of
the social benefits, that began to flow to people
since FDR -- medical benefits, social security, VA
benefits to old soldiers, assistance for the needy,
the aged, help for the schools, etc. -- anything that
smacks of what the rest of the world has come to
accept: social help for people who need it from their
government. They, in fact, according to several
sources, are deliberately running up the national debt
so much that they will have to cut almost everything
and especially the social benefits a working American
has worked so hard for. This sounds almost too simple
to be an acceptable premise, but considering the debt
load we are looking at, that is what they want. It is
very important that we organize, send the word out,
especially to the center of the country that are not
always so well informed. We cannot tolerate another
Bush term or the nation will be in ruins, the world
will see us an empire of fiends and we will be
hated even more so. We must get rid of this bastardo
and his little bastardos... Non corborundum
illegitemati."
Jerry Del Colliano, jdelcolliano@earthlink.net:
"I
can't tell you how refreshing it is to read someone
who gets it when it comes to this horrible president
of ours. You have hit it on the head. I don't
care
how exciting Fox News Channel thinks capturing Saddam
is, the point is that we shouldn't be there in the
first place -- that this is not the cure to terrorism
-- and that many lives are being lost needlessly. I
also want to give you what I used to call 'an inside
story' about me. I am following your footsteps and
heading to the college campus. I have accepted a
position of Professor of Music Industry at USC's
Thornton School of Music. I start working on a new
course called 'The Music Industry, Broadcasting and
the Internet' in January for rollout in the fall
semester. I hope I can bounce things off you from
time to time. In addition, you might be interested to
know that I will also be in charge of putting together
a Music Industry Institute -- a think tank, if you
will, to help bring the various parties together. All
of this is very exciting for this ex-publisher. I
wouldn't count out having a publishing voice again
when my non-compete expires. Have a happy holiday and
thanks for sharing some of your political beliefs.
You made my day!"
Ken Dowe, Kdowe@aol.com:
"Claude, I do not know what
has happened, but you are not the man I once assumed
you were. This gentleman's reply to your latest
anti-American treatise is indicative of the many
emails I have received since your letter was
circulated a couple days ago. While I do not
understand your reasoning, nor can I follow your
logic, I do realize you and I are so far apart in our
beliefs as to make it counterproductive to even
attempt some spirited dialogue. Rather than merely
'deleting' your emails as most folks I find now are
doing, I have relegated your emails to 'delete spam'
so that I am never again beleaguered by the
anti-American and venomous bile you are offering as
thoughtful commentary. At our age, and after so many
decades of friendship, I do think it sad that I will
call it to an end here in the twilight of our careers.
However, I would be ashamed for anyone to ever even
suspect you are my friend. The enemy of my country, of
those who have served it, and died for our freedoms,
and who would make treasonous statements about its
leader, is not my friend."
I wrote Dowe not to bother with the Spam blocker, that
I would merely remove him from my list. And I wished
him a good life. I mentioned the Christmas message
was already circulating far and wide.
Kdowe@aol.com: "Probably circulating in Iraq,
North
Korea, Saudi Arabia, and Osama Bin Laden's
headquarters in his 'hidey hole', too. And, a good
life to you, too...Claude."
Mary Garza, maryg1@sbcglobal.net:
"Merry Merry
Christmas, and ditto your message. My sentiments
exactly. Thanks for the enlightenment. I have a
problem with some of my friends who say they like
George Bush. I have always felt he was an
ignoramus."
John Alexander Hall, esq., johnalexhall@hotmail.com:
"Dad: I agree with a lot of what you have written,
but not all of it. I will shed no tears for Saddam.
He is an insane dictator who deserves to have been
deposed. My problem is that we should not have been
the ones to do it. From a purely selfish perspective,
we should not be dealing with Iraq until we have taken
care of Bin Laden. I have not heard or seen anything
to make me concerned about Saddam attacking the USA.
Bin Laden has already done so. Where are our
priorities? As for Bush, I think that some people
like having a president that is dumber than they are.
It makes them feel superior."
Michael Harrison, TALKERSMAGAZINE@compuserve.com:
"What a thoughtful and moving piece."
(to be continued)
Claude Hall
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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