When I was growing up in Arkansas (back in the Mesozoic era), we’d see TV commercials for a grocery chain called The Mad Butcher. Every commercial ended with a caricature of “the Mad Butcher” accompanied by some maniacal laughter, straight out of the Vincent Price bag of tricks:
My dad could imitate that laugh perfectly – it cracked us up as kids.
We’re not laughing anymore.
This was a week ago. In Fordyce, Arkansas, a town of 3,000.
Normally the folks roaming the aisles of a small-town grocery store are called “shoppers.” In the blink of an eye, they became “targets of opportunity” and “victims.”
The perpetrator didn’t really have a criminal record. It’s doubtful tighter gun restrictions would’ve prevented this tragedy. Meanwhile, closer to home last weekend:
This one could’ve been prevented.
A bottle of water. Kids arguing. It should’ve been nothing more than a petty squabble. But add a gun to the equation and it ends with a teenager dead. Yet the story gets even sadder:
[Full story from the Cincinnati Enquirer is here.]
Three generations of gun violence. We can do more to stop the cycle. We should do more to stop the cycle. We must do more to stop the cycle.
Our grandkids aren’t old enough to know better. What’s our excuse?
You done said…