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"Hurt"
by Claude Hall
Chapter 12
I asked Ed Esposito for one more favor before we
parted. I told him about the accident on Nellis. The
night. The time.
"I'd be interested in knowing about the various
victims," I told him. "I'm not so much interested in
names or anything like that as whether any of them had
been in trouble with the law. Problems like that."
"What are you looking for specifically?"
"Heck, Ed! I don't even know. I was driving
ambulance that night. It was a pretty weird scene.
Sort of like out of a fantasy movie."
"Was it you who saved the life of the senator's
daughter?"
"I helped I guess. Actually, my partner J.D. could
take most of the credit."
"I can't guarantee anything will turn up," he said.
"I understand."
I said goodbye after we got outside the compound and
I'd reclaimed my Buck knife.
But Esposito stopped me as soon as we were out of
hearing of James.
"Do you know something, Chuck...there were only a few
casualties the other night. Me and that kid that was
killed in the bomb explosion. A couple with minor
wounds. Scratches, actually."
For a moment, I hesitated to tell him what I
suspected. He might think he owed me something for
saving his life. But, again, maybe loyalty to his job
would supersede something like that. I didn't know.
I tried to find the answer in his eyes. Sometimes,
however, people can lie with their eyes as well as
their words. It eventually came down to either taking
a chance or not.
"I'm ahead of you on that one," I said finally.
He merely nodded. "Mind telling me?"
"The death of the kid could have been an accident. No
one was supposed to get hurt except maybe some cops.
Maybe a whole lot of cops. I don't know that latter
part for a fact. Nor even how. But some girl in a
ponytail paid all of those kids to do a show.
Provided the guns and ammunition. Blanks, the kids
thought. Paid them pretty good money...half up front,
the rest to be paid afterwards."
"Blanks?"
"Yeah."
"How come I got shot with a real bullet?"
"That I don't know. It's true that some real bullets
were flying about. A couple almost had my name on
them. But I guarantee you that the vast majority of
the shots fired were supposed to be blanks. The kids
thought so anyway."
He stared at me. His mouth was slightly open as if he
had difficulty breathing.
"Interesting," he said softly.
"That's what my partner J.D. is always saying," I told
him.
I didn't tell him that the reason the kid probably
didn't escape from the explosion was that J.D. was
trying to get in the back of the building. The kid
had panic'd and tried to come out the front door just
as the bomb went off. An accidental fatality.
Come to think of it, I could never tell J.D. either.
He had a funny thing about kids. Adults, as a rule,
didn't matter much. Kids were a different story.
"The kid know ponytail's name?"
"No. And he'd never seen her before."
"A lot of money for guns and kids went down; too much
for a mere show."
"That's what I think, too," I told him.
"Must have been another reason for everything.
Something we don't know."
"Yeah," I said.
We stared at each other. I didn't know anything else
to tell him and he didn't know what to say next.
After a while, he shifted uneasily on his crutches.
"Funny thing," he said. "I guess I was sort of shot
in the leg after all. May end up going back to work
tomorrow. Won't be too bad, maybe...sitting at a desk
for a few days."
I nodded.
"Might be the thing to do," I said.
"You'll keep in touch?"
"I guess so. May take a day or two. I'm supposed to
work tonight."
"Right."
We left it at that. I went home and fell asleep on
the couch in the living room without even getting
undressed. When I woke up about five hours later, the
door to the bedroom was still closed. I took a quick
shower and shaved and grabbed a Big Mac on my way over
to a gun store in Henderson. The manager wanted to
know if I was a cop. I told him that I wasn't and
realized that a gun shop couldn't supply weapons for a
small war...I was looking for someone else. And I was
extremely curious.
"That incident on Industrial the other night?"
I nodded. "In all probability."
"Why?"
"Friend of mine got shot over there. Too, a kid was
killed."
"Lots of people getting killed in this town lately."
"Too many," I said.
"Traffic accidents mostly," he said.
"In all probability," I said again.
I just stood there.
Finally, his eyes left mine and drifted toward the
front door as if the discussion was over and he had
other things to do. I suppose I'd been holding my
breath. Air came out in sort of a sigh. I don't know
how it sounded to the manager of the store, because he
jerked slightly and the muscles in his neck drew
taunt. He nodded his head in a general direction
beyond my shoulder.
"There's a guy out in the high desert over near Indian
Springs. He deals mostly out of town. Fairly large
shipments. May not be the person you're seeking,
though."
I told him that I'd never been up around that area.
He gave me instructions. The instructions were almost
as vague as the expression in his eyes.
"I've never been out to his place," he said.
"Everything I've heard about the guy has been through
a customer or two. Guy like that, he doesn't want a
whole lot of publicity as a rule."
"In all probability," I said.
He asked if I was interested in buying a gun. I told
him the only weapon I carried was a Buck knife and
showed it to him. He grinned.
"Dammed good weapon if a rabbit ever attacks straight
on. In all probability."
I told him thanks.
The drive to Indian Springs took maybe an hour or so.
I took the freeway, of course, but the freeway usually
becomes a stop-and-go situation in the downtown Las
Vegas area where it passes close to Binion's Horseshoe
and the Lady Luck and the Fremont. And the Fremont
Experience.
Maybe when Doris got back in town, I'd take her down
there to see the show. She'd probably already seen
it, but I hadn't. I wondered for a moment about why
I'd never gone down there. Always intended to. Just
never got around to it. To tell the truth, I've never
appreciated crowds all that much. And I guess that
had hampered me from doing a lot of the things I'd
really enjoy doing.
Finally, I weathered through that area they call the
spaghetti bowl, but which is more like a can of soup,
and headed north on Highway 95.
By now, the sun was heading for home someplace on the
other side of the world. It was a long way from
getting there and I had plenty of daylight left, but
soon the shadows would stretch out and then reach all
of the way into the dark of the night.
A full moon was up there, behind my shoulders, far to
the east and west, but it was white in the sky. When
it began to turn yellow, I would feel it. I don't
know how strong. Sometimes, the third night is a
complete washout. Sometimes, it's my best night.
Most of the time, however, the craziness was over in a
couple of days.
Not that it was all crazy, mind you. In fact, I sort
of enjoyed everything after all these years. It put
me back in touch with the earth, so to speak.
On the other hand, a couple of days a month was just
about enough. And sometimes I was grateful when it
only lasted one night.
I almost missed the cutoff. It was a dirt road
leading off more or less southward toward Mt.
Charleston. Actually, it was more rocks than dirt and
it was almost just a little too rough and ragged for a
car. The road sloped upward and it didn't seem all
that steep except I noticed in the rearview mirror
after about four or five miles that I'd climbed at
least a couple of thousand feet. The air was a little
cooler up here and fresh and there was a slight odor
of sagebrush, but it probably came from a small, low
cedar bush that grew in this part of the country.
I found the mobile home after about eight or nine
miles. It was off to the side maybe a hundred yards.
In the distance beyond the mobile home the foothills
of the mountains began to lift and tumble against the
afternoon sky. The people who lived here hadn't
cleared off any of the land, not even where the cars
were parked; there was no yard. Catclaw and cactus
and rocks grew all of the way to the side of the
mobile home. A Hummer was parked out front alongside
one of those Japanese versions of a jeep. A couple of
ballet slippers hung from the rearview mirror above
the dashboard of the jeep.
The mobile home, nothing fancy and not too new, sat on
concrete blocks about three feet off the ground.
Three or four leftover concrete blocks served as steps
up to the door.
A couple of hunting dogs were under the mobile home in
the cool shadows. I could smell them and heard one of
them shuffling around in the dirt. One of the dogs
barked, but he didn't come out of hiding. Right then,
I realized the two dogs were well trained. They
wouldn't attack unless their owner gave the word. But
whether he admitted he was home or not, the dogs had
let him know someone was out here.
No one came to the door when I knocked. After a
moment, I knocked again. I got the same results. But
I heard someone shifting around behind the door. Just
a couple of very small sounds. An ordinary person
might not have noticed. There were no other noises.
Not even from the dogs.
So, I went back out to my pickup and crawled into the
front seat and pressed down on the horn.
The noise was horrible. At least, it was to me. I
wondered what it would do to the dogs and I soon found
out. They began the most terrible howling. Turned
out there were more than two dogs under there. I
counted three. And there was probably another one who
was too stubborn or too mean to howl. That was
probably the one who'd give you all the trouble you
needed.
After a few minutes, between the howling of the dogs
and the noise of the horn, I got some results.
Lord, but he was huge! The doorway of the mobile home
wasn't all that wide; he had to turn sideways to get
through. Forget Big & Tall; he probably bought his
clothes at someplace more likely called Extremely
Large & Giant. His shirt would have made two or three
people a very nice blanket.
And he was a very unhappy person. You could tell that
right away.
He said something that I couldn't understand and
rubbed a hand the size of a book over his forehead as
if to wipe away any pleasant thoughts. That sort of
messed up a pile of red hair that flamed about his
ears. You could tell that he hadn't visited a barber
in quite a long time and didn't know when, if ever,
he'd get in that direction again.
I took my hand off of the horn and scrambled out of
the pickup as he stepped onto the ground. Maybe it
was just my imagination, but I thought I felt the
ground shake as he walked toward me.
I didn't want to fight the dogs. That one who'd
remained very quiet and almost like a statue might not
be a lot of fun. Anyway, I had no reason to hurt the
dogs. So, before he could think of the idea to call
them out on me, I walked over and offered him my hand.
For some reason, I thought we'd get into one of those
typical hand-squeezing situations and I'd lose and
somehow get my head bashed in, but I was mistaken.
Also, if I had a stereotype image in my mind about big
guys being dumb, he destroyed that immediately.
"Good afternoon," he said. "What brings you up this
way? We don't get many visitors."
We shook hands. His grip was firm, but he offered no
overt pressure. And I was thankful for that. I
introduced myself. He said his name was Dawson.
Two of the dogs crawled to the edge of the shadows
and, still resting on their front paws, looked out at
us.
"I'm looking for someone who sells guns," I said.
"And someone sent you out here on a wild goose chase,
eh? I'm well aware of my reputation in town." He
smiled and, noticing my glance toward the dogs under
the house, snapped his fingers once without even
turning around to look. The dogs vanished from sight.
"Sorry about the dogs."
"They seem to be very well trained," I said.
"Oh, I do some hunting now and then," he said. That
statement might have been fairly ominous, but he
smiled and sort of chuckled under his breath. "Not
around here, you understand. Up in the mountains
beyond Mt. Zion National Park. Down in the Big Bend
country of Texas. Idaho some. Of course, it's
getting harder to find decent game these days."
"Unless you're hunting men," I said. I tried to also
speak without a tone of accusation. Just general
conversation like.
"Never hunt men," he said. "I've always been a
little
afraid that I might enjoy that kind of sport. You
know? So, I've stayed away from it. Fortunately, I
missed any kind of a military draft. Mostly because
of a minor fracus years ago with the law. In
retrospect, I think I would have made a hell of a
soldier once I got bloodied."
"I know what you mean," I said.
"Just by looking at you, I can tell that," he said.
"I suspect you would have made a good soldier
yourself. Except for the age. A bit young."
But when he said those words, he wasn't looking at me.
He was staring off at the distant mountains.
Instinctively, I looked that direction, too. He
quickly snapped his eyes back on me. It was a hard
gaze. But his eyes were blue and clear and I couldn't
see any animosity in them.
"These guns I was talking about were used by some kids
the other night down on Industrial," I said.
"I know the street."
"One kid was killed," I said. "And a friend of mine
was shot in the leg."
"Sorry to hear that," he said. "But a man would be
a
fool to sell weapons to kids. The chance of being
discovered would be high. The opportunity of being
connected to something like that rather risky. Too,
probably not enough money involved to even interest a
man."
"I would think that, too."
"A man in that kind of business more than likely
wouldn't sell his product in the United States.
Probably only sell to government officials, pro and
con, in countries such as Chile, Bolivia, Haiti."
"Sounds sensible," I said.
"Anything else I can help you with?"
"No, sir," I said. "I'm sorry I disturbed
you."
"It's okay," he said.
"To tell the truth," I said, and I chuckled a little
to take the sting of a cold accusation from the words,
"I thought you might be trying to hide from me when
you didn't answer the door."
"No. I like to load my own bullets when I go hunting.
That way, I know what I'm shooting before I even know
what I'm shooting at. When you're fooling with gun
powder, you have a tendency not to pay much attention
to someone knocking on the door even if you hear
them.”
“Yes, sir. I can understand that. I apologize," I
said.
"No problem."
He nodded his head and smiled as if to ask if there
was anything else.
There was nothing much I could do. For one thing, I
believed every word he’d said and all of the things he
hadn’t put into hard words, but had told me anyway. I
apologized once again for disturbing him. He said it
was okay. As I crawled back into my pickup and headed
down slope, he was struggling to get through the front
door of his mobile home. Shadows were gathering. A
light came on in the mobile home before I drove out of
view.
I had a few minutes in which do some thinking as I
headed back toward the highway. A man like that might
stretch the law or bend the dickens out of it now and
then, but he’d definitely operate within it as much as
possible. On the other hand, I couldn’t see him in
that small Japanese jeep with the pink slippers
hanging in clear view. The Hummer, yes. The jeep,
no.
Something also occurred to me: A Hummer costs a lot
of money. And it’s not the kind of car that you’d
drive in town, as a rule. It was the kind of car that
you might need for business in the desert.
After I got out of view a mile or two, I turned off
into the brush and drove several hundred yards away
from the road and parked. Actually, I just stopped
the pickup and cut off the engine because there was no
real parking space and not even a road. But at least
the pickup was below a slope out of direct sight of
anyone going by. I sat there a while, waiting for
night to conquer the the world.
A strange, lonely feeling swept over me as I sat there
in the silence that usually surrounds the end of a day
out here in the high desert. I thought about the
unusual moodiness of J.D. He would be waking up soon
to head for work and would be concerned when I didn't
show up. But I had no way to telephone him. Without
Nap as backup, he'd have to depend on one of the
orderlies, perhaps, and they were an odd brew. J.D.
would be very unhappy about that.
I wondered what Doris was doing about now. I suppose
it was best that she was out of town while all of this
was coming down. But I missed her something dreadful.
And for some reason I thought that was very funny. A
guy like me, missing a mere girl.
As darkness fell around me, the moon began to have an
effect. And as soon as it did, I pulled off my shirt
and trousers, folded them and placed them behind the
seat out of view along with my shoes. The keys to the
car and the apartment, I placed behind the left front
tire with my billfold.
I wish I could explain about the effect of the moon.
I can't. But I can easily understand why the ancient
Greeks worship the moon as a goddess.
To some extent, it's like an energy flow racing down
out of the night sky. I can feel the energy in my
muscles, especially those muscles along my arms and
legs. You feel, just a little I imagine, like an
invincible god of some kind. An ancient god that
might have paid his own kind of homage to the Delpi or
to Elysian Fields.
My hearing is unusually good. But under a full moon,
I can even hear, I swear, crickets in the grass and
the thin hum of wind among the needles of the cactus.
You cannot even believe how wonderful a cup of coffee
smells under the light of a gold moon. And I
especially like the smell of apples and bananas. This
is pretty strange, but it's also absolutely true.
In a hard run, I reached the mobile home in about 10
minutes.
The jeep was gone. But since it hadn't come down the
road, the driver had obviously headed in the direction
of the mountains.
And if I was right, it was a girl who wore her hair in
a ponytail.
Making a wide loupe in order to not encourage the dogs
to create a ruckus, I was soon trotting along the ruts
that led most of the time on a direct line toward the
low foothills of the Mt. Charleston area. After a few
miles, however, the road was forced to twist to avoid
outcroppings of rock. I paused once to listen for the
sound of the jeep. All I heard was wind knifing
through catclaw and, a long way off in the distance,
the sound of a small stream fighting rocks as it
sought to get downhill.
By now, the shadows of the evening had evolved into
complete darkness and I had only moonlight to guide
me. Once, I stumbled in the shadows of some rocks and
wished I'd bought along a flashlight out of the
pickup. Then I realized how funny that would seem: a
werewolf carrying a flashlight.
A flashlight might have helped me track the jeep,
though. Because at the moment, I was frustrated; the
jeep had disappeared on me. I couldn't hear it
anywhere. The faint sour odor of burnt oil and
gasoline lingered in the area, but the jeep wasn't
anywhere to be found.
A canteen of water would have also come in handy
because I was beginning to develop a thirst. My
throat was dry. Oh, well...the werewolf business
hasn't been the same, I suppose, since the days of Lon
Chaney.
I climbed upon a high boulder and looked around.
A hard wind spun clouds in the moonlight around the
higher peaks of the Mt. Charleston area. Could be
snowing up there about now. You never could tell this
time of the year.
Down here, a steady breeze hummed among the needles of
the prickly pear cactus and rushed off down the slope
of the hill. The stream, perhaps half a mile to my
left, made a funny sound.
But I'd lost the jeep and its driver.
After a while, I leaped from the boulder and drifted
off toward the south for a mile. I found nothing in
that direction and, instinctively, felt I was getting
further away, not closer.
The breeze was now kicking up a little dust and that
made my thirst much worse, so eventually I ambled back
toward the stream.
I soon discovered why the stream sounded funny. It
came out of a narrow opening about half the height of
a clump of Spanish bayonet in some rocks. The small
cave--it was actually just a narrow cleft created by
rocks that had tumbled from the slope of the hill at
some ancient time--caused an echoing effect.
But as I knelt to drink where the stream flowed from
the cleff over the sandy bottom of the draw I heard
something entirely different--voices! I thought
recognized one of the voices; it was difficult to be
sure. However, I thought it was the voice of the
giant I'd confronted at the mobile home down toward
the valley. And I heard a girl's voice.
The voices seemed to be coming from the hole in the
rocks. I couldn't quite make out the words in the
conversation, but the giant was angry. No doubt about
that!
I quickly realized the cleft wasn't as narrow as I'd
thought. As I moved closer to hear the voices, I
discovered that I could squeeze between the rocks. I
got wet, of course. There was a small pool of water
just inside the opening and beyond that it got so deep
I was soon wading. But the cave was wider here and I
couldn't even see the ceiling in the dark.
A few feet further, the cave angled off to the right.
The voices were now quite clear. And I could see
light in the distance. The light was steady, thrown
by a Coleman lantern. Shadows moved occasionally.
Three of them. As I waded closer, I saw that the
larger shadow belonged to Dawson. The other person
was a thin girl whose hair was tied in a ponytail at
the back with a red ribbon. But the third shadow was
so small and grey--almost nebulous--that I doubt if
the two people arguing on an outcropping of level rock
noticed the other shadow. I couldn't see who was
causing the shadow; the person literally wasn't there.
A ghost.
"The guns were only rented out," a girl's voice
shouted in return to something said by Dawson. "For
one night."
"You had no right to let kids use these guns!"
"It was just a show. Like a stage play."
"I don't give a damned what you thought it was, a kid
got killed."
"An accident, dad, from a bomb. I swear it was an
accident. I don't know where the bomb came from!"
"And someone's about to meet with an accident right
now," said Dawson.
Suddenly, I found myself looking down the barrel of a
gun.
"It's me," I said as I came out of the water into full
view. I expected them to be somewhat terrified, but
that didn't happen. The girl quickly placed a hand
over her mouth and began snickering.
"Well! Mr. Southheim. Did you ever think about
wearing a bathing suit when you go swimming?"
I glanced at my hands. Whups! No hair!
I quickly jumped back into the water and squatted down
out of sight. Most of me, anyway.
Precisely what I'd intended to do, I don't know.
Maybe try to scare them. But the effect of the moon
had worn off for some reason in the cave...maybe
because the full moon had been waning and, well, there
wasn't any moon here in the cave...and instead of a
hairy monster, all they'd seen was someone without
clothes. The situation was not only farcical, but
embarrassing!
Both of them stared at me for a moment. Then, Dawson
laughed, lowered the rifle in his hand, wagged his
head back and forth a couple of times, and walked over
to a jeep parked a few feet away and pulled out an old
army blanket. He came back and tossed it toward me.
The blanket fell in the water near me, but I was able
to retrieve it and wrap it around me as I stood up. I
think it was a little late, but I felt better.
"Thanks," I said.
I staggered out of the water and stood dripping before
them.
"I don't know how you found that entrance," said
Dawson, "but the mistake was mine. I should have
blocked that thing with a few rocks years and years
ago. Would you believe me if I told you that was
precisely how I discovered this cave? Of course, that
was many years ago and many pounds ago. I was a kid
when I first came through there."
Beyond the jeep was a ramp that disappeared in the
darkness. Off to my left was a stack of boxes.
I looked questioningly at Dawson.
He grinned. "I only said that I knew about the
rumors. I didn't stay they weren't true. Now that
you know about this cache, I don't suppose it would be
prudent for me to ask you to keep secret about it?"
"I'm not interested in your business," I said. "I'm
only interested in that riot that happened on
Industrial in Las Vegas a few days ago. And I'm
hoping your daughter will be able to tell me who was
behind it."
The girl was only about 16 or 17 years old.
She glanced at her father. He nodded his head with a
certain emphasis.
"I don't know," she said. And she looked me straight
in the eyes when she said it.
"Anything you can remember about the incident would
help," I said.
"It was a voice from the dark."
"Even I find that difficult to believe," said her
father.
"Dad, I swear! The money was dropped in front of me.
I knew how tough things have been this past two or
three months and I knew you were trying to accumulate
money so I could go to college. There was enough in
that bundle for at least two years at Bennington."
"You didn't see the person?"
"I wouldn't even be able to recognize the voice
again...they went to an awful lot of trouble to sound
funny. As if they were talking through a teastrainer
or something. Once, I thought I saw a couple of red
dots. Like the eyes of a bobcat in the dark. But
they disappeared immediately."
"Why would they give you money upfront like that?
Seems to be like that's carrying trust a little too
far," I said.
"They knew all about me," she said, glancing in the
direction of her father. "They knew about dad. They
knew about the guns."
The money she'd been given was just for hiring the
kids. "We were to create a ruckus. The kids were to
turn the guns back in to me and I was to pay them off.
Then I was to be paid $50,000."
"Whew!" said her father. "That's a lot of money
just
to shoot off a few rounds of blanks."
"Something went wrong," I told him, "and someone
out
there in the dark was firing real bullets Evidently,
a lot of people were supposed to get killed that
night. My theory is that somebody wanted a lot of
cops killed. The kids were told they had blanks, but
they didn't. At least, some of them had real
bullets."
"Did you get the 50 grand?" Dawson asked.
His daughter shook her head. "I still have a couple
of thousand left...the kid who got killed in the
explosion, a few others who were captured by this guy
here and ended up in jail."
"Once things cool down," Dawson said, "you go pay
those kids off."
"Okay."
He looked at me. "I suppose you're parked outside."
"No. I walked from a mile or so beyond your place."
"Hell of a walk," he said. "Well, come on. We'll
give you a ride."
He picked up the Coleman lantern. I crawled into the
passenger seat of the jeep and his daughter took the
driver's seat. Dawson sat in the back, the lantern in
his hand. He just barely had enough room.
A rock wall of the cave slid aside as we drove up the
ramp. We passed through and onto a rocky surface
beneath an inverted bowl of stars. The wall slid back
into place.
"Neat," I said. "But what about your partner?"
"I have no partner," he said.
"I saw a third shadow a few minutes ago," I said.
"Your's?"
"Nope."
"Crap!" he said.
(to be continued)
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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Commentary
by
Claude Hall
January 5, 2004
by Claude Hall
This week, no diatribe. Not much anyway. Instead, we
continue with the emails received based on my recent
diatribe accusing George W. Bush Jr. of not only war
crimes, but crimes against humanity. There are
obviously those who think that because he wears the
title of president he has special privileges. I do
not; I believe that if he wears the title of
president, he has special obligations. Bush has
violated or trampled all of these obligations. Just
FYI, I appreciate the logic of some of the answers
below, pro and con, for you don't have to necessarily
think like I do, but I require of all human
beings--especially the people I love and respect, even
admire--that you do think. I was thus saddened by the
absolute lack of perspective reality of others both
last week and this week; they mistakenly think we are
solving problems in Iraq when, in reality, we are
creating more problems at an intensive rate. Yet, the
propaganda of the White House is that we're killing
only "evil ones"...fighting "insurgents."
If you
believe this, you're part of the problem. No wonder
Bush is able to get away with lying, cheating, maiming
the lives of the weak, killing...plus outright
stupidity when it comes to leadership. These are
indeed dark times for America as he shifts us to a
war-mongering nation whose only hope of economic
survival is killing others...war and further war.
John F. Kennedy had begun the swing to a peace-time
economy. There were stumbling blocks, but it had
continued. No longer. The factories are once again
producing planes and bombs instead, of iceboxes and
stoves and washing machines. What a pity. You see, a
war economy is an excluding, centralized economy. A
peace-time economy is a world economy and generates
friends. A war economy generates people who hate and
thus people to kill. A war economy is ever so and
precludes an end. No civilization focused on war can
hope to survive.
Ah, Willie, nice to have you back in the fray
(statesman.com, Dec. 31, 2003). Hope you can do some
good. The Dixie Chicks found the fray too difficult
and had to back off. Don't let them get to you,
Willie!
Before getting to the emails, I'd like to run this
item below from Steve Warren, cpp80143@centurytel.net:
If you aren't worried about something like this, then
I honestly do feel sorry for you. But even more for
me. This is indicative of Nazi Germany at its worse!
Patriot II, One Stealth at a Time
On the weekend that the news was filled with the
capture of Saddam, junior made a rare Saturday trip to
work and signed into law an intelligence funding bill.
Tucked neatly into that bill were a few expanded
powers lifted from Patriot II. Now the FBI can
secretly demand your financial records (without so
much as asking a judge) from your dealings with car
dealerships, jewelers, insurance companies, airlines,
even the Post Office. And it is a federal crime now
for any of those folks to tell you the FBI has come
a'snoopin'. Here's a short collection of links.
http://www.talkleft.com/archives/005363.html#005363
OTHER VIEWS
Mike Harvey, MHarveyWW1@aol.com
wrote: "Shame...shame
on you! How dare you inflict your own personal
political agenda (actually it reads more like a
vendetta) on others under the guise of a spiritual
revelation? You are pathetic in your lack of
understanding (or caring) of what constitutes real
evil and your blind hatred of anyone who attempts to
confront the instigators of such evil. I don't
believe that God condones killing and suffering in His
name (whatever name the people in question call Him
by). It's the leaders of so-called 'organized
religions' that spread suffering through their own
ruthless greed for power or their misguided beliefs
based on cultural imperatives. Deaths of innocents are
horrible tragedies, but their blood is on the hands of
the murderers who caused our troops to be deployed in
the first place. If you truly believe that President
Bush 'stole' the election and represents an American
version of Hitler, then you also show an amazing
degree of ignorance of the facts and/or an impressive
ability to close your mind to anything that doesn't
fit the dogma your keepers have instilled in you. I
truly wonder if your moral compass guided you to pen a
similar diatribe against Bill Clinton when he sent
American troops into foreign nations...or when he
turned his back on the 800,000 who were murdered in
the Rwandan genocide? There are things we, as a
nation, must stand up to...regardless of the
consequences. It is evil to see evil being done and
not stand up against it. Fortunately for our nation,
America still has leaders. Unfortunately for you, none
of them are Democrats. Most of us who left the
Democratic Party in the past two decades have done so
out of conscience...an inability to live with the lies
and an unwillingness to accept the 'multi-cultural
plantation' vision that today's Demokrats (yes, that's
intentional) see as their ticket to a lifetime of
power and privilege. Please look up V.I. Lenin's (or
for that matter Joseph Stalin's) observations on
'useful idiots'. It may help you to understand your
role in all this. Please remove my name from your
'send' list."
Jack Hayes, overscale@yahoo.com:
"Ask the hundreds of
thousands of dead Iraqis in mass graves or the
hundreds of thousands of gassed Iraqis if it has been
'worth it'. Happy Holidays!"
I asked Hayes: Where do you get your figures? Have
you taken time to think how many "hundreds of
thousands" is? When I hear terms like this, like
"vicious dictator" and etc. on CNN, I began to wonder.
Give me facts. Give me reason. Better, give me
reasoning. Don't merely resprout the crap you're
hearing on CNN. It's quite different, you know, these
"facts," when you view an international news channel.
Tell me this: Do you really think it's just a few
"insurgents" shooting U.S. troops these days? And
civilians, too? My cousin's husband had to flee
Algeria. It is becoming the same in country after
country.
I also should have asked if Hayes knew how many
American GIs were killed in Korea...how many were
killed in Vietnam. And why?
But I shouldn't have bothered responding to Hayes at
all, because this came back:
Jack Hayes: "The number of Kurds gassed by Saddam is
well known and published since the Iran-Iraq War.
Entire cities were wiped out. OR do you think those
people 'posed' for those films and videotapes as part
of a propaganda campaign against us? I have not
personally counted the bodies in mass graves -- but I
am willing to give the benefit of the doubt to those
who uncovered them and did count them. If you uncover
a half-acre pit full of bodies how many would you
guess? How many would it take for you to say, 'too
many -- these are crimes against humanity'. 600
against 1? I don't think so. You're logic is as
twisted as your hatred for this country. There were
tens of thousands of U.S. troops looking for Saddam.
The 600 in the 4th Infantry just happened to be the
ones who found him. If you were there, dealing with
the unknown, would you rather have hundreds of troops
backing you up -- or two guys with pistols? Yes, it
turned out to be one old guy in a rat-hole with a
pea-shooter. BUT his history shows him to be a mass
killer with hundreds of loyalists who are willing to
die for him. I give the guys who took the top off
that 'hole' an incredible amount of credit. It could
have been a huge cavern with gas, mines, or maybe two
hundred guys with automatic weapons and RPGs. There
is nothing I can say or write that will change your
mind -- if you had your way we'd all be speaking
German (or Japanese)."
Paul Irey, irey2020@creativeonline.com:
"As far as
Bush is concerned, I think he is a god. Quite
different from what you think, I see. Attacks on an
undefended city like New York can only be answered
with brutal retaliation so as to make the Arab Muslim
extremist think twice before they do it again.
Remember that Libya, Syria, Iran and the western
region of Pakistan are still available for more
revenge if we need it. Even if they are not directly
responsible as a nation for anything that happens to
us as a result of Arab terrorism (except in Libya's
case where their ruler ordered a 747 full of American
soldiers returning home for Christmas blown out of the
sky...and we still owe them one since our reigning
Democrat at the time of this disclosure, like you I
assume, preferred no military response), those
terrorist don't want to lose the refuge they find in
these countries. It's very effective. Attack the U.S.
and new democracies are established as a result. Any
one who dares to attack us knows now that they will
only make Americans more brutal and arrogant. I think
that's a good thing and I guarantee you that most of
us will vote this president back in for a second term
and the Democrats will lose more power because of this
'lay back and don't resist' attitude. In an era when
biological and radiological weapons are so easy for
small groups of people to deliver anywhere, what would
you suggest as a deterrent? Maybe letting them kill
all the Jews in Israel and doubling what we pay them
for their oil? So you see, to me it's a mixed bag
with technology and medical benefits on the plus side
... and media and political control on the minus
side."
Jim Long, jim@onemusic.com:
"5,000 Amen's. Thanks so
much for sharing your soul."
Wayne McManners, askbubbawayne@yahoo.com:
"Sir, I
respect your right to have an opinion, but I don't
have to like it or agree. I agree that killing in the
name of God is the absolute worst travesty of all
time. God is the creator and he doesn't want his
creations killed by others he created. Having said
that I must say I feel much safer with Bush in office.
Every time an editorial like the one attached reaches
the eyes and ears of terrorists who understand nothing
but brute force they see it as weakness. They see
inaction as weakness. They see debate instead of
action of weakness. When they see weakness they
attack and kill. Years of inaction has brought to
this global war on terror. Never in the history of
the war has capitulation or compromise worked in
working with terrorists and dictators. Look what
happened when they tried that with Hitler. Sometimes
we have to be what we are not in order to be what we
are. It is a hard concept to grasp and even harder to
expedite. Our soldiers are not killers. They are
free men fighting to save freedom. Therefore they are
being something they are not (active soldiers who may
kill in battle) on a temporary basis in order to be
what they really are (free individuals) on a permanent
basis. Please let them do it without the constant
erosion of their efforts by waving signs and sending
signals of weakness. It only makes their job harder.
I for one am in awe of our military effort in Iraq.
If you had told me before the war that our troops
would go into Iraq, suffer less than 300 dead, conquer
the country in a matter of weeks and inflict on
precision damage on the infrastructure i would have
said you were dreaming. I also feel good about the
effort because there will no longer be additional mass
graves, additional prisons and torture chambers
including prisons for children. Prisons for children
for goodness sake, and a whole country is going to
taste the sweet fruit of freedom. That is a feel
good. If I lived in Iraq, I would hope and pray that
some 'stand up' country would do what the U.S. has
done and come in and free me. What about hating
Saddam or hating and loathing Osama Bin Laden for a
while? While we are on the subject of expanding our
thoughts and compassion let's try and remember those
3,000 that died in the 9/11 tragedy. What about
them.? Dare we forget? I will never forget those
burning buildings and the people jumping to their
deaths. How can we set back and let that go
unpunished. Before you get on your podium about the
"no connection with Iraq rant" they did find major
documentation of a "pact" between Osama and
Saddam. I
can tell you this, too. There WILL be weapons of mass
destruction found. They have encountered 137 weapons
caches the size of Manhattan and so far they have only
had the time to search 10 of them. 9/11 was worse
than Pearl Harbor and Pearl Harbor was a military
target. The victims of 9/11 were civilians for the
most part. It is a new war. A war on a enemy that
has no country for a boundry. It is a religous war
and no victory will ever be sounded or treaties signed
like in the wars of the past. It is a sad situation
but we must all come together and bring unity to our
ideas and actions. As for our friends in Europe I
only have to look to the past to know what to do in
the future. We saved their collective asses twice in
World Wars One and Two. If they are not grateful to
us for that, they will never be grateful. I saw
Winston Churchill's biography on TV the other day. He
was made fun of and discredited with intense
maliciousness about his concerns over Hitler. History
shows that he was right and Hitler had to be dealt
with by brute force. After the war the British people
started right back to ridiculing and tearing Churchill
apart in the press and eventually removed him from
office. Our leaders are burdened with the very
unpopular task of protecting us for no one betrays us
more than we betray ourselves."
Mr. McManners, my wife Barbara says that you presented
your argument with excellent logic and thought. Best
of those responding. And certainly not an idiotic
response. My compliments to you for that. I
personally, of course, question your source of facts
and such statements as the "size of Manhattan."
You
blow off a cache of that size and, bang, no Iraq,
period. Too, I would argue that there are other and
much better methodologies for solving problems than
shooting people. I feel that Bush went to war
audaciously and capriciously without valid reason.
The only question is can a president be held
accountable for murder? If he wins, probably
not...although he should be in this case; if he loses,
yes. Without question. Every goddamned time! I
would argue that Bush is at the moment a bigger
criminal that Saddam Hussein because he not only led
Americans into harm's way, but slaughtered innocent
men, women, and children to satisfy an unjustified
whim.
Stephen Meyer, stephennmeyer@earthlink.net:
"While I
agree with your comments in large part...I believe
this is a new world that we're living in since 9/11
and nothing will change it. The hatred directed
towards the U.S. by extreme fanatics of the Muslim
faith isn't going to diminish one iota if we remove
troops from Afghanistan and Iraq...they have said
repeatedly there agenda is to 'kill all the
infidels...anyone who is not Islamic' and convert the
rest of the world to their religion. Yes, I realize
it's that small fraction of extremists...but they do
exist and aren't going to quietly go away. They
believe death is a means to paradise and they have NO
fear of dying in the course of creating the most
horrific acts of terrorism against innocent civilians.
Yes, I think it's a tragedy of the highest order when
ANY innocent civilians are killed in wartime...but
make no mistake about it...we are at war with
terrorism and will be for a long, long time. Americans
aren't fair game because of Bush...was he the reason
the Twin Towers were attacked? The Pentagon? No...it
was what this nation stands for that drove those
fanatics to fly their planes on suicide missions and
kill thousands of innocent people. It had nothing to
do with George Bush then...and little now in my
opinion. They hate America. They hate our Freedom.
They hate that we support the ONLY democratic
government in the MIdEast (Israel). They hate our
freedom to choose who we worship. They hate that women
are equal here and in their world they are treated as
second-class citizens...in some cases in servitude.
Our real enemies hate us and NOTHING we do will stop
that. They don't want appeasement...they want to kill
us. I sang to 'Give Peace A Chance' many years
ago...and it's still a noble effort in all cases but
we must also realize that there are enemies who want
NO peace. NO dialogue. NO peaceful coexistence. That's
a hard pill to swallow and accept...but it is truth."
Bill Mouzis, BMouzis@aol.com:
"Amen, Claude. This man
has to go down as the worst president this country has
had in its history--elected or hand picked. I have
forwarded the message on to many of my friends, at
least they are for now. May you and yours have a
blessed and meaningful Christmas."
Bill Pearson, witzend13@hotmail.com:
"Thanks for
sending your Chrismas message. You started out so
gentle and seasonally convivial, and then lauunced
into your diatribe against Bush. I can only imagine
how your Republican friends must have reacted. I
thought I was pretty outraged by Bush, but I think
you're moreso than I am. I'm voting for ANY of the
democrats who win the nomination. The arrogant fool
has taken this country back 40 years in only his first
three, and we'll be back in the 19th century if he has
another four! I don't think we'll ever again be a
first class nation if he gets in again!!!"
Richard Ralston, dickralston@yahoo.com:
"Claude, you
have said what many of us Americans have wanted to say
for a long time. Thank you."
Dusty Rhodes, dustyrhodes@wsai.com:
"Do not send me
any more of your emails bashing our President. For
the record, I am an elected Democrat who supports our
President and our war on terror. You are welcome to
your opinion but many of the irrational attacks on
President Bush come damn close to treason and I want
no part of it. I guess we should have left a guy who
killed 400,000 of his own people to go his merry way.
And I guess we should all back the candidates who want
to keep killing innocent unborn babies. Of course,
maybe you don't consider the human beings either.
That is the kind of logic I don't comprehend. If he
'isn't your President' why don't you leave the
country? You won't be missed."
John Rook, jhrook@earthlink.net:
"Interesting that YOU
and a few other friends have an entirely different
view of our President, George Bush, than I do. At
least in foreign policy. (I know, we could argue that
for months) I'm one of those independant
conservatives republicans can't stand cause they
demand total surrender to their way of thinking... and
democrats can't stand...cause they don't even know how
to spell conservative."
Eric Seiffer, seiffer@redshift.com:
"Claude, we got
your 'Christmas essay'; for your sake we hope a
Democrat gets elected next year, but we are voting for
President Bush; "he's 'da man!!"
Burt Sherwood, bohica1@comcast.net:
"Obviously I enjoy
all the reading material. I want to also add there is
not one of your columns that does not have someone in
it that I do not know. It is nice to see that my
memories are not alone, and that I have company. I
read your Christmas homily, and I see that you are
upset with today's government. I cannot blame you,
but this guy Bush seemingly is a lucky so and so! I
know a few people in his administration, and I know a
few people who do not like him...but for better or
worse, I feel he will be around for another four
years. One of my partners, also a Texan, hates him so
much he doesn't even write about it...he knows him
for what he is, as he lived with him as the Governor
of Texas. I rarely get into much politics these
days...Anne is an NYC Democrat, as was my mother. My
Dad was a Republican...so much for today...killing
people is terrible...I hate it...as to Sadaam
Hussein, let the Iraqis judge him...better yet..cut
him loose at rush hour in the center of Bagdad...so
much for that There is an outside chance I might show
in Vegas next month during the NAPTE convention...if
there is that chance...I will write, and hopefully you
, Barbara and I will break bread...meanwhile much love
from us in sunny (a bit humid today) Florida."
Al Smith, alsmith@cbs.com:
"Claude...most of the time
we are on the same page. On this one, we split
dramatically. But, that is what is great about this
country. Have a terrific holiday, and may 2004 be a
wonderful one for you."
Eliot Suied, Eliotsuied@aol.com:
"Who the fuck is this
guy? The U.S., along with our allies, are the only
forces in history to take into consideration
collateral damage when waging war! We spent billions
to minimize the potential death of a group of 3rd
world scum who believe that it is OK to kill in the
name of allah. It would have been far easier to level
the entire country and send them all of to paradise,
but we care about the innocents. Fuck you, go live
with these low life bastards and tell me they give a
shit about innocent life. As I do not care to hear
any further vitriolic opinions of Bush-hating Texans,
please take the time to remove me from your Arab
sympathizing propaganda list. As to your opinion that
it is a travesty that people kill for religion, be
informed that that if the major reason that most
people kill. Many Bosnians, Serbs, Muslims, Irish,
etc., still do it to this day. Religion may give
comfort to some, but it fuels the hate of many others.
Pray to god as you wish, but never proselytize to me
again."
Mark Taylor, tayloradio@earthlink.net:
"I find your
column of 12/16 so repulsive that it was with great
difficulty that I was able to finish reading it all.
You excoriate the president and the military for the
tragic accidental deaths of chilren while overthrowing
a sadistic dictator who tortured children to seek
revenge or exact information from their parents? You
condemn the deaths of innocents while freeing the
people of Iraq from a madman who created children's
prisons, rape rooms, and torture rooms, not to mention
the murder of hundreds of thousands of men, women, and
children whose mass graves we're still digging up???
I thank God every day that your brand of 'religion' is
relegated to the backwaters of left-wing America.
Your 'religion' would condemn millions to hopeless
subjugation and abuse. Your 'religion' is immoral.
It does nothing in the face of human suffering. It
condemns those who have the moral strength to
overthrow the oppressor while excusing and appeasing
homicidal tyrants. You call the fight to free
millions from an inhumane dictator, murder? There is
so much more to say about your rabidly partisan
political thoughts. However, I don't have the time or
the inclination to continue. I will simply fight your
kind at every opportunity. I, to, am a Texan. Proud
of President Bush. Ashamed of those who would claim
to be 'without hope' in the face of freedom achieved
for so many. Please take my name off your email list."
Bobby Vee, RVelline@aol.com:
Claude, Two thumbs
up...insightful and very moving. The first word that
came to mind was 'powerful' but really...the word
'powerful' has been corrupted in recent years...having
formally been connected with goodness, or strength of
the human spirit, or even the dynamics of
righteousness. Sad to lose a 'good' descriptive word
to destruction i.e....we are a powerful (destructive)
nation. Ps...Merry Christmas...peace on earth, good
will to all!"
Steve Warren, steve@gomusic1.com,
web:
www.gomusic1.com:
"Claude...i see ol' stan was
offended. When he sent the above (see Stan Webb
below) back to you he clicked the editorial button and
sent it to all of us. just happens that i got another
email today that opened with a few quotes that seem
appropriate for one who seemingly has no problem
having liars and whores in control of our government
and using our military to advance the financial
interests of their family, friends and neighbors. i'm
open to discussion with anyone who thinks there is
anything good about this adventure the idiot and his
cronies have gotten our nation into."
Note: Steve sent several sayings, one from each major
religion and one from Woody Allen. I selected one.
"To overcome evil with good is good, to resist evil by
evil is evil." -- The Prophet Muhammad, founder of
Islam.
Stan Webb, StanWebb@austin.rr.com:
"This is
outrageous. Please remove my name from your email."
Jim West, JIMRW@aol.com:
"I read your heartfelt
thoughts this Christmas season and I respect your
right to relate, not only your life's
experiences...the travails you've encountered...and
your compassion for all of those less fortunate than
you! In this time of the Holidays, whatever the faith
one follows (or doesn't)...we can all be grateful to
live in a country where you are able to have a
platform from which to speak. I, too, had a humble
beginning in life, but I've refused to wear it as a
mantle to bring sympathy or compassion my way. I have
been a loyal American, proud of my country & I, like
you, served in WW2..and after availing myself of the
wonderful G.I. Bill , attended a fine university in
California and then carved a succession of careers in
the music business as an instrumentalist, vocalist &
successful entertainer. Then found a lady to whom I
have been married for 47 years...matriculated to the
radio production business in Dallas where I served
the Industry with PAMS, TM, Fairwest, Music of Your
Life, etc., etc...always maintaining a reputation for
truth & integrety...and carrying another career into
the related field of voiceovers (distinguished by my
being featured as Ross Perot's spokesperson in '92 &
'96). At the ancient age of 79, I'm still working as a
storyteller for a children's animated fairy story
series for Disney...and I've just finished producing a
Big Band/Vocal album of which I am proud. My dear
wife Liz is well known in our industry for her courage
under fire...fire of a different kind...loss of our
1st born, full-term...Muscular Distrophy for 39
years...cancer operations (5)...diabetes for at least
20 years...a heart attack...a broken leg...and now...a
return of cancer. And all through the years, never a
complaint...just a demeanor that astounds all who know
her. Obviously, I'm proud of her, as she serves as a
wonderful example to me in my fight to battle
Parkinson's disease. And, you know what, Claude, I
write and produce films for this disease as well as
for cancer (won an international award for a film on
breast cancer here in Fairfield County, CT). What I
say to you is by demeaning our president and whatever
you personally believe in is not only destructive,
but, in my humble opinion, beneath you...and a total
waste of your energy and time that you could use for
good...not for a blanket diatribe of an administration
you don't favor! Get a life...and look out for the
out-of-work people in the industry! The de-reg
happened on the Clinton watch...as did the total abuse
of the White House and all it represents. Hell...go
after Clear Channel for making a shambles of our
industry and rendering a cash cow for his selfish
interests! Man...be productive...not destructive! And
while you're at it...pay homage to all the wonderfully
creative pioneers who built our Industry...and who
would be appalled at the state of that industry! And,
Claude...lighten-up...and enjoy the Holidays with your
family! Jim West...semi-retired (?) in Connecticut."
Don Whittemore, don@dandydonsicecream.com:
"Claude,
arise in the eyes that look upon tomorrow. Should
tomorrow never arrive...the eyes, a few words back,
mentioned, will see only black. Or green. Or,
a
rainbow. If life is a conundrum, who's playing bass?
I love your soul and your unending search for what
truth lives amongst us. Despair is there--if you
choose to look for it. In the downtime, I'll have
another cigar and study the vistas beyond my staring
eyes. Vistas filled with despair and hope."
Bill Young, BeYoung95@aol.com:
"Earlier this year, I
quit losing sleep about the comments from those who
spend their days trying to draw dramatic judgments on
the state of our world. One of the powerful things we
share is the freedom to criticize and to exercise our
opinions with the pull of a lever. It is becoming
clear to me that all of us are being forced to choose
sides...it's as if we are nothing more than
statistical numbers in a continuing 'ratings sweep'
that tracks what we think, how we will vote (a year
away from actually voting), who is 'in' and who is
'out', and what's really happening in parts of the
world and in the minds of people in whom I have no
true understanding! Long time close friends...with
whom I have shared an exciting career, watched their
dreams and their children grow, cheered their
successes and comforted their failures...suddenly seem
to demand that I take some strong liberal or
conservative political position about issues
impossible for me to adequately comprehend based on
information that comes from pretty faces but empty
minds on TV that never saw the inside of a journalism
classroom! We are choosing sides against neighbors
when we should be celebrating our freedom to have
differing opinions. We are becoming so desensitized
by seeing uncivilized politicians and commentators on
TV yelling at each other that we are beginning to
bring this into our own lives and relationships with
friends. We don't even want to hear news written or
delivered by someone who might disagree with us
anymore. The fact is, I normally choose not to become
angry with a friend because we don't agree. However,
the comments in your email today have me bothered. It
is not the the fact that I differ with your opinion
regarding George W. Bush and his decision to confront
Iraq that has me concerned...in fact I celebrate your
right to do so....it is the cruel way you have used
your talent to indict an American President of being a
"murderer" while ignoring the documented history of
Saddam Hussein's atrocities. By doing so, you also
indict many of your own friends who sincerely believe
our President has done the right thing. But I am most
bothered by what is actually the most beautifully
written part of your letter that speaks of your own
"spiritual experience" as extremely personal and a
"grace given to few", but then commences to label the
President's own spiritual experience as "ungodly."
One could naturally assume that you likewise would
label the experience of any of us that disagree with
you as "ungodly". You have no right to do that!
The
first three paragraphs in your column were
inspiring...the next twenty were inflammatory and I
find them personally offensive. Sorry, Claude, but I
do not accept that your "spiritual experience"
was any
more real or personally significant than mine! My
prayers are just as sincere. For the record, you are
also historically uninformed in your comment "...to
kill in the name of religion is a fallacy of the worse
kind and I believe there is no greater sin...." In
fact, our country was established by those seeking
religious freedom and fought England in its first war
to establish its right to worship as it saw fit. It
also ignores fulfillment of Biblical prophesy as far
back as Joshua's devinely inspired "Battle of
Jericho". One could reasonably make the case that to
fight for one's core values and beliefs may be the
very best reason to draw lines in the sand! You also
commented...."If Hussein is guilty of anything, it's
merely that of leadership of a nation the U.S. decided
without provocation to invade." . In the United
Nation's yesterday, the Iraqi Foreign Minister Hoshyar
Zebari made a powerful speech as reported in
yesterday's New York Times....."The Iraqi minister
said the United Nations had failed to help rescue his
country from ``a murderous tyranny'' that lasted more
than 35 years and "today we are unearthing thousands
of victims in horrifying testament to that failure.''
While you, as stated, clearly disagree with this
person who lived through that period...our country's
leaders did take action and history just may not be as
unkind to them as you predict. It is now believed
that as many as 400,000 people were murdered by
Saddam's regime (many in his religion's name). Like
you, I pray that the killing will stop in this
conflict...but I can only entrust that outcome to the
same power of which you so eloquently spoke in your
opening comments. Claude, you have made great
contributions to our industry and I respect your
talent and abilities. Your earlier columns filled a
void by re-connecting a generation of our industry's
talents and I hope you are inclined to continue to
provide that needed service. This and a couple of
other recent columns, however, are forcing some to
question the purpose of your efforts. Please speak
your mind when led to do so, but be civil and respect
my right and dignity to prayerfully disagree. We must
find a way to stop this madness or war itself will not
be our problem."
(to be continued)
Claude Hall
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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