I don’t own a gun because sometimes people do things that make me so angry that I would use it.
Last week an incident happened that only served to demonstrate why I should not have one in my hands. A friend of mine and I were speaking on the phone. He related going trick or treating with his two boys.
He lives several towns west of us, in the Fort Worth suburbs. A story circulated on Facebook, later to be confirmed on the news, that someone in his neighborhood had inserted staples into Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Three pieces of tampered and dangerous candy were found.
I was floored, astounded and angered. And, quite frankly, if you put a gun in my hands and that guy who placed the staples in the candy in front of me, I would have pronounced his sentence right there. Immediate justice. Blam. Bye bye, you idiot, nimrod brain. You do not belong on this planet any more. Sorry. Lord, forgive me for those thoughts.
I’ve said this before in this column and here it comes again, “WHAT THE F___ IS WRONG WITH SOME PEOPLE!?!?!?!?” What drives someone to do something so vile?
Is it a hatred of kids? Did this anonymous person have some kid do something to him personally so that he is now going to take it out on the entire neighborhood population? In some sick way, does he find it funny or amusing? Does he want his name on the news?
These types of crazies have been around for years. We hear the stories of foreign objects hidden in different ways in the treats handed out, and as parents we are warned to check what our kids bring home. Despite receiving that message repeatedly, sometimes evil slips through the cracks. Thankfully, in this case, no one was injured. The warnings and alarms cited (which take the fun out of so many events we used to enjoy without having to worry) helped keep kids and parents on alert, leading to the discovery of the danger.
We tread cautiously these days. Random shootings occur. Sickos try to maim your children on Halloween. The threads that bind us unravel after these types of events. We look with trepidation at those we don’t know. That is bad, so bad.
When my friend related what had happened to me, I felt my stomach lurch and was sickened at the thought at what could have happened to an innocent child. It is our children who we must teach to grow up in this world, and learn to trust others, believe in them, and work together if we are to make this planet a hospitable and habitable environment for generations to come.
Nut cases like this Halloween candy-contaminator have a different thing in mind. They are out to poison others. They wear the devil’s ears and hide behind curtains of fear.
I grew up on a dead-end street. One of our neighbors gave us apples for Halloween every year. We hated it because of course we wanted candy, but we ate the apple. Our neighbors were all known to us and us to them. We could name all the parents and the adults could name all the kids.
It might just be that there is too much anonymity and we need to start sitting on our front porches and talking across the fence to our neighbors, getting to know each other better. Knit the fabric together. I think that would help. Better than me getting a gun.
Last week an incident happened that only served to demonstrate why I should not have one in my hands. A friend of mine and I were speaking on the phone. He related going trick or treating with his two boys.
He lives several towns west of us, in the Fort Worth suburbs. A story circulated on Facebook, later to be confirmed on the news, that someone in his neighborhood had inserted staples into Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Three pieces of tampered and dangerous candy were found.
I was floored, astounded and angered. And, quite frankly, if you put a gun in my hands and that guy who placed the staples in the candy in front of me, I would have pronounced his sentence right there. Immediate justice. Blam. Bye bye, you idiot, nimrod brain. You do not belong on this planet any more. Sorry. Lord, forgive me for those thoughts.
I’ve said this before in this column and here it comes again, “WHAT THE F___ IS WRONG WITH SOME PEOPLE!?!?!?!?” What drives someone to do something so vile?
Is it a hatred of kids? Did this anonymous person have some kid do something to him personally so that he is now going to take it out on the entire neighborhood population? In some sick way, does he find it funny or amusing? Does he want his name on the news?
These types of crazies have been around for years. We hear the stories of foreign objects hidden in different ways in the treats handed out, and as parents we are warned to check what our kids bring home. Despite receiving that message repeatedly, sometimes evil slips through the cracks. Thankfully, in this case, no one was injured. The warnings and alarms cited (which take the fun out of so many events we used to enjoy without having to worry) helped keep kids and parents on alert, leading to the discovery of the danger.
We tread cautiously these days. Random shootings occur. Sickos try to maim your children on Halloween. The threads that bind us unravel after these types of events. We look with trepidation at those we don’t know. That is bad, so bad.
When my friend related what had happened to me, I felt my stomach lurch and was sickened at the thought at what could have happened to an innocent child. It is our children who we must teach to grow up in this world, and learn to trust others, believe in them, and work together if we are to make this planet a hospitable and habitable environment for generations to come.
Nut cases like this Halloween candy-contaminator have a different thing in mind. They are out to poison others. They wear the devil’s ears and hide behind curtains of fear.
I grew up on a dead-end street. One of our neighbors gave us apples for Halloween every year. We hated it because of course we wanted candy, but we ate the apple. Our neighbors were all known to us and us to them. We could name all the parents and the adults could name all the kids.
It might just be that there is too much anonymity and we need to start sitting on our front porches and talking across the fence to our neighbors, getting to know each other better. Knit the fabric together. I think that would help. Better than me getting a gun.