Yet another, and another, probably without end in America. We have a gun culture, one firmly fixed on what I believe to be a tragically flawed interpretation of the Second Amendment, the one that completely ignores the qualifier about a “well-regulated militia.” These are not the days of voluntary ad hoc groups of men with muskets summoned to suppress rebellion on behalf of the individual states. For that we now have police and Homeland Security forces. Meanwhile, the gun nuts blithely dismiss the slaughters as having nothing to do with the instruments of death and everything to do with bad people doing bad things.
Things hit home last year with the senseless murders of Marysville teenagers, at a school previously attended by both my children. In retrospect, we may surmise that the perpetrator lost his head, apparently angered by rejection, calmly entered the cafeteria to which he had invited his soon-to-be-slain friends, then pulled the trigger again and again. Tragedy all around, as these killings are, followed by untold grief.
It is this grief that lingers. For many, forever. They cannot “move beyond” or repress the nightmare, even if they were not proximate to the horrible event. They are scarred, their lives permanently transformed, left to always wonder why the killing and why not me?
They can be assured of one certainty. Their political leaders, those who can make a difference, will instead continue genuflecting before the altar of arms for all, everywhere and without limit.
And we thought our species intelligent.