Saturday, 3 June 2017

Magnificent


MARTOK: 
By marrying Worf, Dax will be joining the House of Martok. 

Since the Mistress of a Great House must approve all marriages, Sirella will spend the next four days evaluating Jadzia. 

(The airlock opens and a stately Klingon woman comes out.) 

MARTOK
My Lady. 

SIRELLA
You've put on weight and your hair is going grey. 

MARTOK
My deterioration is proceeding apace. 

SIRELLA
I thought you would be in your grave by now. 

MARTOK
I shall endeavour to die this year, if possible. 

Allow me to present Captain Benjamin Sisko, Commander of Deep Space Nine. 

Captain, may I present the Mistress of the House of Martok, 
My Wife and the Mother of My Children, 
Sirella, Daughter of Linkasa. 

SISKO
Welcome to Deep Space Nine. 

SIRELLA
Thank you, Captain. 
Where is she? 

MARTOK
Jadzia's quarters are in the Habitat ring, section twenty five alpha. 
Shall I escort you? It's quite far away. 

SIRELLA
I'll find my way. If you'll excuse me. 

(Yup, they're deeply in love. I'm thinking Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing.

MARTOK
MAGNIFICENT, isn't she?

Friday, 2 June 2017

Thief



"The soldiers [seen on Fox in Iraq] in the foreground should be identified as 
'sharpshooters,' 
not 'snipers,' which carries a negative connotation."
Well, thief. I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. 
Where are you? Where are you? 
Come now. Don't be shy. Step into the light...

You have nice manners for a thief... and a LIAR!


"Dear Quark, 
I used parts of your disruptor to fix the replicators. 
Will return them soon. Rom. "

QUARK: 
I will kill him. 

ODO: 
With what..?




  SISKO: 
It's really quite simple, Quark. 
You're not going to leave. 

QUARK: 
Not going to leave? 
But we're packed and ready to go. 

SISKO: 
Unpack. 

QUARK: 
I don't understand, Commander. 
Why would you want me to stay? 

ODO: 
I'm curious myself. 
The man is a gambler and a thief

QUARK:
 I'm not a thief. 

ODO: 
You are a thief

QUARK: 
If I am, you haven't been able to prove it for four years. 

SISKO: 
Please. My officers, the Bajoran engineers, all their families depend on the shops and services of this Promenade. 
If people like you abandon it, this is going to become a ghost town. 
We need someone to step forward and say, 
'I'm staying, I'm rebuilding.' 
We need a community leader and it's going to be you, Quark. 

QUARK: 
Community leader!?!

ODO: 
Seems reasonable. 
You have all the character references of a politician. 

QUARK: 
How could I possibly operate my establishment under Starfleet rules of conduct? 

SISKO: 
This is still a Bajoran station. 
We're just here to administrate. 
You run honest games, you won't have any problems from me. 

QUARK: 
Commander, I've made a career out of knowing when to leave, and this Bajoran provisional government is far too provisional for my taste. 
And when governments fall, people like me are lined up and shot. 

SISKO: 
There is that risk, but then, you are a gambler, Quark. 

ODO: 
And, a thief

SISKO: 
You know, Quark, that poor kid is about to spend the best years of his life in a Bajoran prison. 
I'm a father myself. I know what your brother must be going through. 
The boy should be with his family, not in some cold jail cell. 
Think about it. It's up to you. 

(Sisko leaves


ODO: 
You know, at first, I didn't think I was going to like him...

There are 3 thieves who shall not suffer punishment, —
  • A Woman Compelled by her Husband, 
  • A Child, 
  • A Necessitous Person Who Has Gone Through 3 Towns and to 9 Houses in Each Town Without Being Able to Obtain Charity Though he Asked for it.


There are 3 Ends of Law,—
  • Prevention of Wrong, 
  • Punishment for Wrong Inflicted
  • Insurance of Just Retribution.

There are 3 things free to all Britons,—
  • The Forest, 
  • The Unworked Mine, 
  • The Right of Hunting Wild Creatures.


There are 3 things which are private and sacred property in every Man, Briton or foreigner,—
  • His Wife, 
  • His Children, 
  • His Domestic Chattels.


There are 3 things belonging to a Man which no Law of Men can touch, fine, or transfer,—
  • His Wife, 
  • His Children, and
  • The Instruments of His Calling; 

for 
No Law Can Unman a Man
or 
Uncall a Calling.



"The European Dragon guards two things in his Cave - 

He guards heaps of Gold, and Virgins.

And he can't make use of either of them.

But he just GUARDS."







Beowulf-The Hobbit



Beowulf and Storyline of The Hobbit

A comparison of The Hobbit and Beowulf

By Joanna D. 6/28/06
J. R. R. Tolkien was professor of English literature, and he really liked Beowulf. This being so, he managed to use many of the same scenes, characters, and symbols in his book, The Hobbit.
To understand the rest of this report, you will need to be acquainted with Beowulf. He is the nephew of a Geatish ruler. He comes to the aid of a Danish king who has a problem with a cannibalistic monster. This monster, Grendel, comes every night to the hall where all the king’s warriors sleep and devours many of them in their sleep, returning every night to his lair. Beowulf stays in the hall one night and fights Grendel with his bare hands, tearing off the monster’s arm before he escapes.
The next night Grendel’s enraged mother comes, thinking only of revenge. She is met by many men and, capturing one of them, she flees with Grendel’s arm. They track her to the pool of her underwater lair, finding there the remains of her captive. Beowulf takes the loan of a sword (Hrunting), dives, and is brought by Grendel’s mother to her lair, where he finds a great sword, with which he slays her. He also finds Grendel, who is dead, and cuts off his head as a trophy. As he comes up, however, he finds that the blade of the marvelous sword melts in the heat of the gore in the water, and that every one seeing all the blood on the water thought he was dead.
After many thanks and rewards, Beowulf returns to Geotland, where his uncle, Hygalec also praises and rewards his valor. Many years later, when they are in a break in a battle with the Swedes, Hygalec leads an expedition up the Rhine River. They are all, with the exception of Beowulf, who escapes, killed. Hygelac’s son is killed for harboring royal Swedish refugees. Beowulf becomes king. One of his men is Wiglaf, a young warrior who was hired by the Swedish king to kill as Swedish prince whose armor Wiglaf now wears. That prince’s brother, however, is now the king of Sweden.
One day, a run-away slave stumbles across a dragon’s treasure, and steals a golden cup as atonement for some crime. It is accepted, but the dragon begins to wreak havoc across the region. Then, learning where the cup came from, Beowulf, eleven of his warriors, and the slave set off to fight the dragon. Beowulf, now about seventy, starts to falter in his duel with the dragon despite his sword Naegling. Wiglaf, seeing that something is wrong, leaps to the aid of Beowulf, calling for the others to join him. Beowulf, though the dragon bites him, kills it with the aid of Wiglaf, his nephew, whom he makes his successor. As he dies, he requests that he should be buried in a tall grave on a cliff top, visible from sea. The ten other swordsmen never joined in and are disinherited. All of the gold is either burned or buried with Beowulf. The end of the poem is disheartening. In addition to the many enemies who will attack when they hear of Beowulf’s death, there is also the king of Sweden whose brother’s armor Wiglaf wears and an old curse put upon the gold because they did no totally destroy it.
Most of The Hobbit’s emphasis is on the dragon, but I will speak briefly of the other monsters. Bilbo Baggins started as a respectable hobbit, who are short, fat, brightly clothed, and calm, with curly hair on their leather-like feet and head. In this case, respectable means rich, estimable, and never going on adventures. He is forced into an adventure when a wizard, Gandalf comes, and Bilbo unwillingly and inadvertently admits to liking adventures. Gandalf immediately arranges that he be sent on one. He goes off with thirteen dwarves, and Gandalf. The dwarves’ names are Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bomber, and Thorin Oakenshield. None of them are very memorable except Thorin, who is chief dwarf and grandson of Thrain, the king under the mountain;as well as Bomber, a fat dwarf who is the comic relief. Fili and Kili, who are Thorin’s young nephews, are also memorable because they are characters with whom you can sympathize with more then the rest of the dwarves. Their first adventure is some trolls. Bilbo accidentally alerts the trolls of the rest of his group’s presence, but Gandalf saves them by making the trolls argue until sunrise, when they turn to stone.



They find the troll’s cave, where they get Elvish weapons: Gandalf’s sword, Glamdring, Foe-hammer, worst hated by the goblins as Beater, Thorin’s sword, Orcrist, Goblin-cleaver also hated by the goblins as Biter, and Bilbo’s dagger which he names Sting. This is interesting: the practice of naming weapons, and while it was common in the Middle Ages, it is still a noteworthy similarity between the two books. It makes you wonder what Hrunting and Naegling mean. Also interesting is the the fact that the swords are known by multiple names. The swords obtained from the trolls in The Hobbit glowed when goblins were near. “Suddenly a sword flashed in its own light.” and, “It gleamed ever in the dark if foes approached.” Similar to the sword Beowulf found in Grendel’s mother’s cave; as, it was a “glittering a great hoard-weapon smith-wrought by giants a sword for victory blade for a champion best of war-weapons gleaming in gold work.”



They meet and, are captured by some Goblins. Their home is similar to Grendel’s mothers home: “It was deep, deep, dark, such as only goblins that have taken to living in the heart of the mountains can see through.” The mother of Grendel’s home was in an underwater cave. “That black she-wolf bore him away tugged through the water that warrior from above to her deep cavern-den”. Gandalf rescues them, but Bilbo gets left behind. The goblin’s feelings about their possession of the sword are similar to the mother of Grendel’s feelings about their possession of his arm. “They hated it and hated worse any one who carried it.” “Then his mother sorrowed grieved for her child greedy for man-blood went prowling for vengeance payment for her son.” Not to say that the goblins are an exact, or even a parallel to Grendel’s mother, they just come at similar places and do similar things. Bilbo’s reappearance was also similar to Beowulf’s. After escaping another carnivorous creature and finding an invisibility ring, he finds them “wondering and debating what they were to do now. The dwarves were grumbling, and Gandalf was saying that they could no possibly go on with their journey leaving Mr. Baggins in the hands of the goblins, without trying to find out whether he was alive or dead, and without trying to rescue him.” ‘And here’s the burglar!’ said Bilbo stepping down into the middle of them, and slipping off the ring. Bless me, how they jumped! Then they shouted with surprise and delight.” This was because they thought, like Beowulf’s warriors, that he might be dead: “they wished without hope that their hero would surface dive up to them.” “His thanes received him thankful to their God for bringing him back from that baleful journey safe after his fight with that sorceress of death. ”
They go through an evil enchanted forest and are captured by elves who live in the forest, but finally, they arrive at the town at the base of the dragon’s mountain. After announcing that the King under the Mountain has returned, they have great assistance. There were rumors about the king returning and gold. When they finally got into the mountain, Bilbo has to do his job. To prove himself to the others, he steals a great golden cup from under the dragon’s nose. “ His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but still he clutched the cup, and his chief thought was: `I’ve done it! This will show them’.” This scene has exactly the same motives and outcome the scene where the wretched slave fleeing punishment for a crime steals a cup as a gift for Beowulf, so that he could have his life. “till a trembling slave kindled his [the dragon] anger carried off a gem-cup bore it to his lord begged a settlement a gift for his life. ” The treasure in The Hobbit and Beowulf is similar. Both hoards are cursed, “The dwarves of Yore made mighty spells”. And “Those ancient heirlooms earned much curse-power old gold-treasure gripped in a spell – no one might touch them those nameless stone-riches no good or bad man unless God himself the great Glory-King might give someone to open that hoard that heap of treasures a certain warrior as seemed meet to him.” Both hoards were also guarded by a dragon. “ ‘he took all their wealth for himself. Probably, for that is the dragons’ way, he has piled it all up in a great heap far inside, and sleeps on it for a bed.’ ” “a raging flame-dragon ruled in darkness fire-grim guardian of a great treasure mound”.
The dragon figures that the thieves who stole his cup must have come from the Lake Town. “ ‘If you are not one of those men of the Lake, you had their help. They shall see me and remember who is the real King Under the Mountain!’ ” The dragon in Beowulf figured the same thing, and went out on an angry rampage for his cup. “The dragon was ready on his wall by the sea soared with balefire fueled by his fury. The feud had begun, ”. Bilbo had seen the dragon’s vulnerable spot when he had talked with the old worm earlier. ‘Dazzlingly marvellous! Perfect! Flawless! Staggering!’ exclaimed Bilbo aloud, but what he really thought was ‘Old fool! Why, there is a large patch in the hollow of his left breast as bare as a snail out of its shell!’ A thrush had overheard, and told Bard, one of the besieged about it. “ ‘Wait! Wait!’ It said to him. ‘The moon is rising. Look for the hollow of his left breast as he flies and turns above you!’ And while Bard paused in wonder it told him of tidings up in the mountain and of all he had heard.” “The great bow twanged. The black arrow sped straight from the string, straight for the hollow by the left breast were the foreleg was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, barb, shaft and feather, so fierce was its flight. With a shriek that deafened men, felled trees and split stone, Smaug shot spouting into the air, turned over and crashed down from on high in ruin. Full on the town he fell. His last throes splintered it to sparks and gledes. The lake roared in. A vast steam leaped up, white in the sudden dark under the moon. There was a hiss, a gushing whirl, and then silence. And that was the end of Smaug and Esgaroth, [the Lake Town] but not of Bard.” And, thus, Bard symbolizes Wiglaf. He did the killing, as Wiglaf gave the fatal wound to his dragon: “He ducked past the head – hot flame-belching burned his hand then as he buried his sword burnished treasure-blade in that black snake belly.” Bard became the new ruler of the town,‘We will have King Bard!’ the people near at hand shouted in reply.” Because Bard was the descendant of the ruler of Dale, (which had become deserted years earlier because of the dragon) Bard became the governer of Dale, but let the old Master continue ruling Esgaroth. Wiglaf also became Beowulf’s heir and inherited his throne. “ ‘Now would I give to my good son-child my armor and weapons if only a land-heir had been granted to me to guard my kingdom prince of my loins.’ ”

 “He removed from his throat a marvelous neck-ring gold-gleaming collar gave it to his thane, young spear-warrior, yielded his armor helmet and mailcoat hailed him farewell”. Smaug (Bilbo’s dragon) and Beowulf’s dragon also, basically died in the same place, though Beowulf’s dragon died by his cave on the sea shore and not in the sea, and both ended up in the sea/lake. Of Tolkien’s dragon, “He would never again return to his golden bed, but was stretched cold as stone, twisted upon the floor of the shallows.” And Beowulf’s dragon: “The dragon they shoved over the cliffwall into cold wave-water let the sea embrace that shepherd of wealth.”
There are preparations for a war at the end of The Hobbit, similar to the war foreshadowed at the end of Beowulf, “We will live to see dark slaughter-days when the death of our king is widely heralded over wave-rolling seas to Franks and Frisians. That feud was started hard against Hugas when Hygalac went forth sailing with float-troops to Frisian territory where the swordstrong Hetware humbled him in battle gained victory there with greater force-fighting till that best of spear-kings bent down in death fell among foot-troops – no fine gold plunder he brought to our hall. Since that day no stern Merovingians have sent us peace-tokens. Nor will Battle-Swedes bear us good tidings wish us good will.” The Lake-men and elves are about to fight it out for the gold, against the dwarves, minus Bilbo (who has gone over to the elves’/Lake-men’s side) and Gandalf, (who has returned, but is with Bilbo) plus Thorin’s friend Dain’s army. Fortunately, the war is prematurely stopped because of an oncoming hoard of Goblins. “ ‘Halt!’ cried Gandalf, who appeared suddenly, and stood alone, between the advancing dwarves and the ranks awaiting them. ‘Halt!’ He cried in a voice like thunder, and his staff blazed forth with a flash like the lightning. ‘Dread has come upon you all! Alas! It has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the north is coming, O Dain! whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! the bats are above his army like a sea of locusts They ride upon wolves and Warges are in their train. Amazement and confusion fell upon them all Even as Gandalf had been speaking the darkness grew the dwarves halted and gazed at the sky. The elves cried out with many voices Come called Gandalf. There is time yet for council Let Dain son of Nain come swiftly to us! So began the battle that no one had expected and it was called the Battle of five armies and it was very terrible Upon one side were the Goblins and the wild wolves and upon the other were Elves and men and Dwarves.” Because the goblins are mutual enemies, they all unite to defeat them. Even characters who were not in the original armies show up. They defeat the goblins, who do not cause anyone trouble for a long time after, distribute the gold, and make peace.
In the battle, Thorin Oakenshield nobly receives fatal wounds, and dies. As Beowulf dies in the passage I quoted earlier. [Thorin to Bilbo] “ ‘Farewell, good thief,’ he said. ‘I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers, until the world is renewed.” Fili and Kili also die defending their uncle. Thorin is Buried as Beowulf was, with treasure. “They buried Thorin deep beneath the Mountain, and Bard laid the Arkenstone upon his breast. ‘There let him lie until the Mountain falls!’ he said. ‘May it bring good fortune to all his folk after!’ Upon his tomb the Elvinking laid Orcrist, the elvish sword that had been taken from Thorin in captivity. It is said in songs that it gleamed ever in the dark if foes approached, and the fortress of the dwarves could not be taken by surprise.” 

“Then a wagon was loaded with wound goldrings numberless bracelets borne beside the warrior…They raised skywards ready for their king a pyre on that point for their proud warleader hung it with helmets hard shield-bosses bright mesh-corselets as he bade them to do. They laid him in the middle their beloved gift-friend lifted with heartgrief the helm of their land. On the cliff the kindled a king’s balefire wavering death flames…In the barrow they placed bracelets and gems brought from the rock-den – each beaker and dish went back to earth bright gold meadcups stored once again where they still lie waiting as useless as they ever had been.” And so, the treasure was not used because Wiglaf had decreed, “that mighty dragon-hoard shall all go with him grimly purchased with his own lifeblood – for the last time now he has paid for goldrings. Pyre-flames shall eat them flame-roof shall thatch them no thane shall wear them treasures so dear no dressed hall maidens shell wear on their bosoms wound gold necklaces”. Which was true to a certain extent of the dragon’s hoard. “The old Master had come to a bad end. Bard had given him much gold for the help of the Lake-people, but being of the kind that easily catches such disease he fell under the dragon-sickness, took most of the gold and fled with it, and died of starvation in the Waste deserted by his companions.” Dain takes his place as king under the mountain and restores it’s halls, just as Wiglaf did. “There now Dain son of Nain took up his abode, and he became King under the Mountain, and in time many other dwarves gathered to his throne in the ancient halls. Of the twelve companions of Thorin, ten remained, Fili and Kili had fallen defending him with shield and body, for he was their mother’s elder brother. The others remained with Dain; for Dain dealt his treasure well.”

Everything turns out square. After a time, Bilbo journeys home with Gandalf. On returning, He finds all his stuff being auctioned off, his house being possessed by his relatives, and that everyone thinks that he is dead. (They never quite forgive him for it either.)





In The Lord of the Rings He gives the ring to Frodo, his younger cousin who also has some interesting adventures with it.
Afternote: I left out several things perhaps important quite probably some of my comparisons are stretched. However, I wrote it without the benefit of the knowledge that I could read other people’s reports. In addition, after reading the LOTR trilogy, I saw several other possible parellels. The ring which Bilbo found in the cave is similar to the sword Beowulf found in Grendel’s mother’s cave. Both dragon had armor. In the Hobbit, there were several hints as to the impending war of the rings (Gandalf visiting the Necromancer, going away to fight Sauron while they went through Mirkwood, and his long absence, reasoning with Sauraman to let them get at Sauron) This is quite similar to the fact that Geoltand’s enemies would probably attack after Beowulf was dead.

Stephen King


"Harris & Klebold may be dead, but they're going to be mighty lively for awhile. 

Believe me on this. 

I know a good deal about spooks, and more than I want to about boys who play with guns."


Stephen King's Keynote Address
Vermont Library Conference
VEMA Annual Meeting
May 26, 1999
The Bogeyboys by Stephen King

When I speak in public, a thing I do as rarely as possible, I usually don't speak from a prepared text and I hardly ever try to say anything serious; to misquote Mark Twain, I feel that anyone looking for a moral should be hung and anyone looking for a plot should be shot. Today, though, I want to talk about something very serious indeed: adolescent violence in American schools. This outbreak has become so serious that a bus driver from Conyers, Georgia, interviewed last week on the CBS Evening News, suggested that the slang term "going postal" may soon be changed to "going pupil." I suggest that a great many parts of American society have contributed to creating this problem, and that we must all work together to alleviate it...and I use the word "alleviate" rather than "cure" because I don't think any cure, at least in the sense of a quick fix--that is what Americans usually mean by cure; fast-fast-fast relief, as the aspirin commercials used to say-I don't think that sort of cure is possible. This is a violent society. Law enforcement statistics suggest it may not be as violent now as it was fifteen years ago, but it's really too early to tell; we may only be witnessing a blip on the graph.

America was born in the violence of the Boston Massacre, indemnified in the violence of Bull Run, Gettysburg, and Shiloh Church, shamed by the violence of the Indian Wars, reaffirmed by the violence of two world wars, a police action in Korea, and the conflict in Vietnam. Most of the guns carried in those armed actions were carried by boys about the age of the Littleton killers and not much older than Thomas Solomon, the Conyers, Georgia, shooter. These wars-as well as the Star Wars of the future-can be fought at the local mall's video arcade for fifty cents a pop.

History aside, we suffer from road rage, fear home invasion, and enjoy watching Jerry Springer's guests mix it up on afternoon TV. Once the burglar alarm is set, that is. We like guns, and too many unstable folks have access to them. Some, we are learning, aren't even old enough to shave yet. It is these young killers-- these young guns, to use the title of a popular movie of about twelve years ago--who trouble us. And they trouble us a lot. Hundreds of kids kill themselves on America's highways each month, but even when a large number of them die together, it rarely makes national news. We understand the underlying causes, you see--usually these boil down to the same lethal mix: inexperience, alcohol, and that adolescent belief, both endearing and terrifying, that God put them on earth to live forever. When the deaths come as a result of gunfire and explosions, we either don't understand or tell ourselves we don't. Our fear spawns a creature with no face, one I know very well: it's the bogeyman. When kids die on the highway, it's sad but not nationwide news. When the bogeyman strikes, however...that's different. Then everyone, even the politicians, take notice.

Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold were eighteen and seventeen respectively when they blew their dangerous, unhappy brains out, neither one old enough to buy a legal sixpack, or rent a car, or get more than simple liability coverage on an automobile of his own. Not old enough to be bogeymen, in other words, but they are genuine frighteners, all the same. They have closed schools in many states and caused massive absenteeism in others, where not even an outright threat of violence is now needed to unsettle children, teachers, and parents; vague rumors ("a guy I know heard about a guy who's got a gun...") or an anonymous e- mail is enough.

As the most recent incident in Georgia so clearly illustrates, Harris and Klebold will continue to participate in the American educational process between now and the end of the school year. Harris and Klebold, too young to be bogeymen; call them bogeyboys, if you like. I think that fits them very well.

That I feel pity for these bogeyboys should surprise no one; I have been drawn again and again to stories of the powerless and disenfranchised young, and have written three novels about teenagers driven to murder: Carrie (1974), Rage (published in 1977 under the pseudonym Richard Bachman), and Apt Pupil (1982). In Carrie, a girl who is ceaselessly tormented by her classmates murders most of them at the senior prom after one final, gruesome trick pushes her over the edge. In a sense she was the original riot girl. In Rage, a boy named Charlie Decker brings a gun to school, kills a teacher with it, then holds his algebra class hostage until the police end the siege by shooting him.

In Apt Pupil, a boy named Todd Bowden discovers a Nazi war criminal living on his block and brings the old man back to a dangerous vitality. On the surface, Todd is the perfect California high school kid. Beneath, he's fascinated by the Holocaust and the power wielded by the Nazis; a member of the Trenchcoat Mafia, in fact, without the trenchcoat. After a long (and increasingly psychotic) dance with his pet Nazi, Todd is found out. His response, not shown in the movie which played theaters briefly last year, is to take a high-powered rifle to a nearby freeway, where he shoots at anyone who moves until he is killed. His death is, in fact, what police now sometimes call "blue suicide."

I sympathize with the losers of the world and to some degree understand the blind hormonal rage and ratlike panic which sets in as one senses the corridor of choice growing ever narrower, until violence seems like the only possible response to the pain. And although I pity the Columbine shooters, had I been in a position to do so, I like to think I would have killed them myself, if that had been the only choice, put them down the way one puts down any savage animal that cannot stop biting. There comes a point at which the Harrises and the Klebolds become unsalvageable, when they pass through some phantom tollbooth and into a land where every violent impulse is let free. At this point, the societal issues cease to matter and there is only the job of saving as many people as possible from what seems to me to be actual evil, in the Old Testament sense of that word. Although the pundits, politicians, and psychologists hesitate at the word- -I hesitate at it myself--nothing else seems to fit the sweep of these acts and the wreckage left behind. And in the presence of evil, any pity or sympathy we feel must be put aside and saved for the victims.

This point of no return can almost always be avoided before the shooting and killing begins, and it usually is. Violence on the level of that committed at Columbine High School is still rare in American society, although it may well now become more common; there is a powerful reverb unit hooked up to the already- amplified teenage culture-politic. In that amp-cult, things like huffing, tattooing, and body-piercing spread almost at the speed of e-mail; the lure of the gun may spread in much the same way. And the guns are out there. As I said in The Stand, at some tiresome length, all that stuff is out there, just lying around and waiting for the wrong person to pick it up.

To some degree, what happened at Columbine happened because of what happened in Jonesboro, Arkansas (five murdered), Paducah, Kentucky (three murdered), and Springfield, Oregon (four murdered, two parents and two kids at a school dance). Similarly, the shootings and rumors of shootings in the weeks and months ahead will happen because of Harris and Klebold and Columbine High; because of T.J. Solomon and Heritage High. It's an amp-cult thing. Harris & Klebold may be dead, but they're going to be mighty lively for awhile. Believe me on this. I know a good deal about spooks, and more than I want to about boys who play with guns.

In the wake of the shootings, film and TV and book people have pointed the finger at the gun industry and at that ever-popular bogeyman, the NRA. The gun people point right back, saying that America's entertainment industry has created a culture of violence. And, behind it all, we are bombing the living hell out of Yugoslavia, because that's the way we traditionally solve our problems when those pesky foreign leaders won't do what we think is right. So who is really to blame? My answer is all of the above. And I speak from some personal experience and a lot of soul-searching.

I can't say for sure that Michael Carneal, the boy from Kentucky who shot three of his classmates dead as they prayed before school, had read my novel, Rage, but news stories following the incident reported that a copy of it had been found in his locker. It seems likely to me that he did. Rage had been mentioned in at least one other school shooting, and in the wake of that one an FBI agent asked if he could interview me on the subject, with an eye to setting up a computer profile that would help identify potentially dangerous adolescents. The Carneal incident was enough for me. I asked my publisher to take the damned thing out of print. They concurred. Are there still copies of Rage available? Yes, of course, some in libraries where you ladies and gentlemen ply your trade. Because, like the guns and the explosives and the Ninja throwing-stars you can buy over the Internet, all that stuff is just lying around and waiting for someone to pick it up.

Do I think that Rage may have provoked Carneal, or any other badly adjusted young person, to resort to the gun? It's an important question, because it goes to the very heart of the wrangle over who's to blame. You might as well ask if I believe that the mere presence of a gun makes some people want to use that gun. The answer is troubling, but it needs to be faced: in some cases, yes. Probably it does. Often? No, I don't believe so. How often is too often? That's not for me or any other single person to say. It's a question each part of our society must answer for itself, as each state, for instance, must answer the question of when a kid is old enough to have a driver's license or buy a drink.

There are factors in the Carneal case which make it doubtful that Rage was the defining factor, but I fully recognize that it is in my own self-interest to feel just that way; that I am prejudiced in my own behalf. I also recognize the fact that a novel such as Rage may act as an accelerant on a troubled mind; one cannot divorce the presence of my book in that kid's locker from what he did any more than one can divorce the gruesome sex-murders committed by Ted Bundy from his extensive collection of bondage-oriented porno magazines. To argue free speech in the face of such an obvious linkage (or to suggest that others may obtain a catharsis from such material which allows them to be atrocious only in their fantasies) seems to me immoral. That such stories, video games (Harris was fond of a violent computer-shootout game called Doom), or photographic scenarios will exist no matter what--that they will be obtainable under the counter if not over it--begs the question. The point is that I don't want to be a part of it. Once I knew what had happened, I pulled the ejection-seat lever on that particular piece of work. I withdrew Rage, and I did it with relief rather than regret.

If, on the other hand, you were to ask me if the presence of potentially unstable or homicidal persons makes it immoral to write a novel or make a movie in which violence plays a part, I would say absolutely not. In most cases, I have no patience with such reasoning. I reject it as both bad thinking and bad morals. Like it or not, violence is a part of life and a unique part of American life. If accused of being part of the problem, my response is the time-honored reporter's answer: "Hey, many, I don't make the news, I just report it."

I write fantasies, but draw from the world I see. If that sometimes hurts, it's because the truth usually does. John Steinbeck was accused of gratuitous ugliness when he wrote about the migration of the Okies to California in The Grapes of Wrath, even of trying to foment a domestic revolution, but most of his accusers--like those who made similar accusations against Upton Sinclair when he wrote about the corrupt putrescence of the meat-packing industry in The Jungle--were people who preferred fairy-tales and happily-ever-afters. Sometimes the truth of how we live is just ugly, that's all. But to turn aside from these truths out of some perceived delicacy, or to give in to the idea that writing about violence causes violence, is to embrace hypocrisy. In Washington, hypocrisy breeds politicians. In the arts, it breeds pornography.

My stories of adolescent violence were all drawn, in some degree, from my own memories of high school. That particular truth, as I recalled it when writing as an adult, was unpleasant enough. I remember high school as a time of misery and resentment. In Iroquois trials of manhood, naked warriors were sent running down a gauntlet of braves swinging clubs and jabbing with the butt ends of spears. In high school the goal is Graduation Day instead of a manhood feather, and the weapons are replaced by insults, slights, and epithets, many of them racial, but I imagine the feelings are about the same. The victims aren't always naked, and yet a good deal of the rawest hazing does take place on playing fields and in locker rooms, where the marks are thinly dressed or not dressed at all. The locker room is where Carrie starts, with girls throwing sanitary napkins at a sexually ignorant girl who thinks she is bleeding to death.

I don't trust people who look back on high school with fondness; too many of them were part of the overclass, those who were taunters instead of tauntees. These are the ones least likely to understand the bogeyboys and to reject any sympathy for them (which is not the same as condoning their acts, a point which should not have to be made but which probably does). They are also the ones most likely to suggest that books such as Carrie and The Catcher in the Rye and A Separate Peace be removed from libraries. I submit to you that these people have less interest in reducing the atmosphere of violence in schools than they may have in forgetting how badly some people--they themselves, in some cases--may have behaved while there.

And still...for a' that and a' that, as Robert Burns says, the amp-cult atmosphere of make-believe violence in which so many children now live has to be considered part of the problem. We may like our Jackie Chan movies, Walker Texas Ranger on TV, and the ultra-violent survivalist paperback novels--not to mention the pseudo-religious novels in which the Tribulation Days promised in the Book of Revelations are depicted in gory detail--but we need to recognize that these things are hurting us, just as so many of us had to recognize that our cigarettes were hurting us, much as we enjoyed them.

Yet there are other touchstones of the bogeyboy environment, and many of them have little to do with books or films. Bogeyboys are profoundly out of touch with their parents, and their parents are likewise out of touch with them. They gravitate toward groups run by adults and along quasi-military lines: scouting groups, karate and martial arts clubs, military and paramilitary groups, collector-clubs. The biggest exception has to do with sports. Bogeyboys rarely win school letters...except of course, if the school they attend happens to have a rifle-shooting team.

Bogeyboys come from families where the other sibs have been singled out for recognition in sports activities, academics, performing arts, church, or community service programs. Parents or other close relatives are often career military personnel. Bogeyboys do not win foot-races, get kissed by the Homecoming Queen, or garner blue ribbons. They are profoundly inarticulate and don't date much (Eric Harris was turned down when he asked a girl to go to the prom with him). At home, they stay in their rooms. If pressed, the parents of bogeyboys will often admit that they were afraid of these children long before they broke out and committed their acts of violence. If they add that they can't say exactly why they were afraid, no one need be surprised; these parents, often bright, nonabusive, and community-active, are rarely skilled at communication within the family. One wishes such families would read together, let some writer who is reasonably articulate do their talking for them, but of course this rarely happens.

Bogeyboys make few friends, and those they do make are often as crazy and balefully confused as they are. Their mutual attraction, sometimes homoerotic, has its own amp-cult effect as the friends begin to harmonize their lives, duplicating each others' favorite clothes, records, movies, video games, and Internet chat-rooms. (Books, violent or otherwise, are rarely a bright color in the Bogeyboy entertainment spectrum.) These cultural touchstones, from Metallica ("Exit light/enter night," is how the chorus to one song begins) and Marilyn Manson to films such as Scream, create a language for those who cannot speak otherwise. For awhile it may suffice; it may suffice long enough, even, for something to change before terrible, irrevocable acts are committed. In some cases, however, the pressure becomes too great. Unable to internalize their feelings of anger and inadequacy, unable to externalize them by talking freely to anyone, the boiler finally ruptures and the steam shoots out sideways. Anyone in the way gets scalded. In Colorado, twelve of them were scalded to death.

Bogeyboys, it goes without saying, also always have access to guns. But in America, doesn't everyone, when you get right down to it? Isn't it fair to say that in America, one of the great religions is The Holy Church of the Nine-Millimeter? The gun people don't like to hear it, but I think it has to be said. And if we in the arts are willing to own up to the blood on our hands, I think they need to own up to the blood on theirs.

But I repeat that it is useless at this point to get into the whole bad-culture versus gun-availability argument; it has degenerated to the point where one almost expects to see bumper stickers reading GUNS DON'T KILL PEOPLE, AC/DC CDS KILL PEOPLE. And in any case, both camps are operating not out of any real thought but out of two powerful fears. The first is that they will be blamed...and that they will deserve to be blamed. The second is more primal, and that is the fear of ghosts. Bogeyboys, drifting through the hallways of Everyhigh, U.S.A., whispering to the disenfranchised and the spat-upon that there is a way to even things up, that there is a lot of potent get-even medicine in a Tec-9 or a pipe bomb.

May I be blunt? This fear is that the violence isn't ending but only beginning. It isn't completely rational, but I think I also understand that irrational fears are often the most powerful of all. In this case, the unstated idea is that we have lived well while most of the world lives badly, eaten well while too much of the world goes hungry or actually starves, dressed our children in the best, much of it made by children in other countries who have little but their dreams, many of which are the violent American dreams they see on TV. We have had all this, some of us--maybe a lot of us--seem to think, and there must be a price. There must be a payment. Perhaps there must even be a judgment. Then into our uneasy minds come the images of the bogeyboys, who shot so well because they had trained on their home computers, and on the video games down at the mall.

President Clinton has made a few feeble swipes at addressing this issue, but one can only gape at the unintentionally comic spectacle of this man chastising the gun-lobby and America's love of violent movies while he rains bombs on Yugoslavia, where at least twenty noncombatants have already died for every innocent student at Columbine High. It is like listening to a man with a crack-pipe in his hand lecture children about the evils of drugs.

There are solutions, and there is also a calming sense of perspective that needs to be brought into play. The perspective begins with realizing that most kids in school are not bogeyboys but plain old good kids, interested in getting educations and having pleasant social lives, not necessarily in that order. The long-term solutions lie where they always have, in family lives which emphasize love, communication, and a knowledge of what the kids are up towho they're seeing, what they're saying, and what they may be using to get high on come the weekend.

One immediate solution, or a step toward it, lies in the guidance offices of American high schools, where a better, stronger effort has to be made to identify potential Eric Harrises, Dylan Klebolds, and Thomas Solomons; there needs to be a quantum shift of emphasis from job guidance to psychological guidance (although sometimes they are the same). When such guidance is rejected, there needs to be a process to remove potentially violent children from school environments. The ACLU won't like it, but I don't imagine such Columbine High students as John Tomlin and Rachel Scott much like being dead instead of at the Senior Prom. And if we are going to restrict the right of liberal Constitution-watchers to get innocent kids killed, we need to restrict the right of the gun lobby to get them killed, as well; this country needs to restrict the sale of handguns much more strictly than it has up to now been willing to do. Background checks at gunshows is only a first step.

And yes, there needs to be a re-examination of America's violent culture of the imagination. It needs to be done soberly and calmly; a witch-hunt won't help. Never mind burning Marilyn Manson's records in great fundamentalist bonfires or removing Anne Rice novels from the local library because they might give a few unempowered dweebs the idea of donning Goth clothing and powdering their faces white; let's go beyond the question of whether or not the next crop of natural born killers are currently honing their skills in Arcade 2000 at the local mall. It's time for an examination of why Americans of all ages are so drawn to armed conflict (Rambo), unarmed conflict (World Federation Wrestling), and images of violence. These things are not just speaking to potential teenage killers, but to a great many of us. Their hold on the national psyche has progressed to a point where the Columbine murders dominate our headlines and possess our thoughts to the exclusion of much else, including the mass exodus of a million Kosovars and the world's most dangerous armed conflict since Vietnam.

Harris and Klebold are dead and in their graves, but we are in terror of them all the same; they are the Red Death in our richly appointed castle (where, as the twenty-first century approaches and the stock market daily bops its way to new highs, the party has never been more feverishly gay). They are our bogeyboys, and perhaps the real first step in making them go away is to decide what it is about them that frightens us so much. It is a discussion which must begin in families, schools, libraries, and in public forums such as this. Which is why I have begged your attention and yourindulgence on such an unappetizing subject.

Thank you.

Copyright 1999 by Stephen King.

THE driver whose van struck and nearly killed the horror writer Stephen King last year has been found dead at his home after telling friends that he could not face another winter.

Bryan Smith, 43, had become increasingly isolated after the accident near North Lovell, Maine, in which King suffered multiple injuries and nearly lost a leg.

The author of Carrie and The Shining had pushed for Mr Smith to be charged with aggravated assault, which could have led to a jail sentence, and mocked him in a New Yorker article as "a character out of one of my own novels". Mr Smith, who had been left disabled by a building site accident, received a suspended sentence and lost his driving licence.

A post mortem examination found no signs of violence. King said yesterday that he was "very sorry to hear of the passing of Bryan Smith". He said: "The death of a 43-year-old man can only be termed untimely."

The author had been criticised for pursuing what some saw as a vendetta against Mr Smith, whose lawyers complained that he could not get a fair trial. Carl Magee, a friend of Mr Smith, said: "I could go out and run over a little kid; it could happen to any of us. All I'm saying is, with an average Joe, none of this would have happened. But Stephen King is on national television, he's moaning and whining."


Mr Smith, who had been taking painkillers for a back injury, was found dead in his caravan home at Freyburg, Maine, on Friday. John Thompson, another friend, said: "Bryan had nothing left. He said to me, 'I'd hate to go through another winter dragging my way up and down the highway in the snow'."



SEKHMET PRAYER FOR PROTECTION & SWIFT JUSTICE




SEKHMET PRAYER FOR PROTECTION & SWIFT JUSTICE



Sekhmet, One Before Whom Evil Trembles
I call to Thee and beg Thy protection:
I am being chased, surrounded and overwhelmed
by fearful things which oppress and threaten me.

Sekhmet, Warrior Goddess and Devouring One
Mother, wrap Thy healing wings around me;
protect me from the attacks I am experiencing.
Soothe my wounds, comfort me, give me strength
in my moment of desperation.

Great One In The Places Of Judgment And Execution
The Laws of Ma'at have been violated.
I ask Thee to take action against my pursuers:
May Thy retribution upon my enemies be swift.

Sekhmet Of The Knives,Burner Of Evil-doers
I declare, I am worthy of Thy intervention.
I do not willingly hurt others and I uphold the Laws of Ma'at
Please come to me and help me in this, my time of need.

AMEN