Letters, Aug. 8
Yet another mass shooting, more than 13 mass shootings in the last three years, not to mention the shootings which killed just a few people. Why? The majority of shooters are males, under 30. Why? They are not ISIS or Taliban terrorists, but Americans. Why?
Are they upset with our society? Have they been influenced by our movies and TV shows, which are full of violence?
John Wayne would have punched you in the nose, today you “get back” by shooting strangers. Why?
We are all vulnerable. Sociologists, please help us to discover the cause for this on-going American tragedy.
Must be time
Hmm. In the last few days, at least 32 innocents have been slaughtered with military weaponry.
Must be time for another Saslow opinion piece assuring us that there is no point in regulating civilian ownership of military grade weapons.
Missing the call
Democrats are missing a major call to beat Trump, a call for decency in American leadership. With the exception of Marianne Williamson, who called for “ a moral uprising of the American people” to counter the president’s subversion of personal honor and public decency.
We need to examine the kind of leadership we want our youth to model, and to be aware that the executive office can shape, uphold or destroy our shared cultural values.
I found Williamson’s quote in a David Brooks opinion column Aug. 1 in the New York Times.
Last night I had a nightmare.
I wondered what I was doing in a circus clown car at the top of a very steep hill when the car began to fill with tiny jesters. They all wore GOP shirts. I saw it meant Greedy Old Politicos.
The clowns rocked the car. It started rolling. Steering wheel? None. We began picking up speed.
We flew by cages crammed with people, hands outstretched, pleading for water, food, respite from heat and cold, a place to sleep. Behind them stood a gleeful orange man holding our steering wheel, another with a very high forehead and a turtle. Beside them floated a white-haired man looking to heaven, not the pitiful people.
I tore my eyes away only to see Nazis holding AR-15s giving the Hitler high five to the orange man.
I looked for the brake. None. It was in the back seat with the clowns. I began to scream, pointing to what lay ahead. We raced toward an open cesspool surrounded by erupting volcanoes flying foreign flags.
Did they stop us? No. Instead the clowns waved at the orange man making kissing sounds.
With my heart pounding, I awoke. Or did I?