The Beginnings of a Savage End (Road Rage)

The dead man had been pummeled. He lay on the road on his back, his legs splayed, his left arm beneath him, his other arm extended, as if reaching for something. One of his shoes had come off, and his clothes were bloody and disheveled. A medical-alert medallion hung from his neck. He wore dress slacks, a white oxford shirt under a burgundy Redskins sweatshirt and a shiny black loafer on his right foot.

In the waning sunlight, Will Silvers, a Prince George's County homicide detective, pulled on latex gloves and leaned down for a closer look.

The head injuries were multiple and grievous -- the worst beating Silvers had seen, and he'd seen a lot in 13 years. The right foot was oddly angled, and Silvers saw that the attacker had twisted it violently, rending the ankle joint and tearing the flesh. The victim's face was turned to the right, and his eyes were open. Silvers thought he looked surprised.

Thank God the little guy didn't have a gun, or he might have hurt someone while trying to defend himself. < /sarcasm >

If the shooter wasn't a cop, he'd be in jail today.

This could have happened to anyone, anytime. There are bad guys out there .. really bad guys, and all the reason and "niceness" of the world won't save your life, your kids, or your spounses life.

Yes, this is utterly tragic, but it's a reason some folks want to have a handgun nearby. If you've ever been unarmed in a life-and-death situation, you versus the "bad guy" and survived, you'll never want to be that vulnerable again. I've survived several such situations armed, and by the grace of God (and use of my wits), unarmed. I much prefer being armed.

FReegards, SFS

"An armed society is a polite society."
            -- Robert Heinlein

I would add that a society must also have a well-established system of laws and effective law enforcement. Otherwise you get something like the wild border provinces of Paki-/Afghanistan, where everyone is armed but blood feuds and armed banditry are the norm.

"I've survived several such situations armed, and by the grace of God (and use of my wits), unarmed. I much prefer being armed."

Amen. Same here. Born and raised in San Francisco, I've had situations like that when unarmed. Had to use my wits to talk my way out of situations being confronted by both knives and handguns in my face. I've been lucky when I got mugged a couple times that the beating was stopped by friendly rescuers. If it hasn't happened to you, don't think it never will.

This brings back memories.......

A certain person we know well, diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic,got a NJ Drivers' license at the insistence of the Psychiatric Social Workers, assigned to handle his case, after his release from a psychiatric hospital.

I gave him ONE driving lesson-at the pleading of his overly good-hearted mother. He had been going to a driving school, and they wanted nothing further to do with him. After he drove my car up onto a grassy median-and I had stopped shaking- I moved him to the passenger's seat, and dropped him off at home : praying he would never again be behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle of any sort.

He subsequently found another school, whose instructors had an "arrangement" with a certain MV Inspector , and, to everyone's horror, ( and social worker's joy ), he was granted a license. His Mommy then bought him a new car.

A few months later, he proudly pulled into the parking lot of a store where I was working. The new car looked like something a used car lot would hide out back: all dents and dings, scrapes and rust. I saw him when he came out of the store, got into the car, and backed across an open, unobstructed parking lot, to smash into the porch of a local resident - ( who, for some reason, began screaming in Spanish - Calling on God to witness the situation, I believe-tearing his hair, and jumping up and down. )

This went on for quite a while. His Mommy kept insisting he was a wonderful driver - possibly because he was the only mortal who could stand to have her in the car - and he kept getting into scrapes. The social workers thought it was great too, because he could now drive to his counselling appointments under the influence of lithium and whatever else they were feeding him.

Eventually, the Good Lord heard our prayers - I guess. The battered car, neglected beyond redemption, quietly expired in the night, and was towed away. Mommy had no more money to spend on cars for him.

Today ? Today he walks - or rides one of those senior citizen trikes, and the world is a better place.

Notice that the key word in that Heinlein phrase is 'Society'.

I don't know what you'd call the Afghanistani/Pakistani lawless border areas, but 'society' doesn't quite fit.

You've been there? It's been more than a decade since I was around the enviorns of the Pathan area of Darra, Pakistan, but though those there have very little use for the laws of government, they're quite serious about those of God and of the family heirarchy. Though I was an infidel outsider, I was treated with courtesy and respect, and felt much safer than I've been in Chicago after dark, or often, many corners of my present hometown of Memphis in the daytime.

Granted, gunfire rattled off the walls throughout the day, mostly testfiring demonstrations aimed skyward while checking functional reliability or into target backstops; not much worse than being around seriously armed military personnel with an excess of ammo to burn off and a high boredom quotient.

My only gripe about the place was that they like their tea and coffee a LOT stronger than I care for either. Still, I'm happy to have an excuse to visit those fierce but usually well-behaved society anytime, and R.A.H. was correct: their society is indeed both weell armed AND polite...by it's own standards.

-archy-/-

For such an old and polite society, you think they'd have something better to show than one-story cinder block gun shops. Did you get any pictures of the four-star restaraunts? They do have the 'armed' part down pat, I must say.

Easy for me to say from my swank, climate-controlled, lower east side tri-level loft in San Francisco, I freely admit.

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