Catalyst for Change: The Law and What to Do When Disagreeing with It

This blog was taken word for word from sa recent discussion I had in an Ethics class regarding what the term "law" stands for. I was pleased with the way it came out, even if I may have strayed from the mark as far as defining what the law stands for.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I was pleased with it.

Good day all, 

            The realm of law has always interested me. One of the aspects of the subject that I find so intriguing is the somewhat fluid relationship counter-cultures can have with the legal system. As I also mentioned in my discussion post, the law is typically born out of societal values. However, these societal values are often governed by the majority. This idea forces some counter-cultures to essentially pick and chose the laws they follow, or at least agree with. In many ways this dissent can also bring about change. One example of this is the idea of civil disobedience brought to the forefront of our culture by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. King can be paraphrased as stating, “Riots are voice of the silenced.” King himself did not practice violent protests, as he knew that peaceful protests were a revolutionary way to get people’s attention (and backing) in a positive manner. This is captured by Kevelson when she states that it becomes the obligation of citizens to ensure their own rights when an oppressive government has overstepped its bounds (2002). As a result King was able to be a catalyst for change in Civil Rights and in the corresponding federal law.

            Summarily, the law governs the land, but it is clear that in trying times, citizen’s devotion to these laws may wax and wane.

Reference

Kevelson, R. (2002). Dissent and the anarchic in legal counter-culture: a Peircean view. Ratio Juris, (1), 16. Retrieved from https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsgao&AN=edsgcl.87011174&site=eds-live&scope=site

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 5

So a warrior, a traveler and a zombie walk into a courtyard...

Well we ran actually. Praesus charged forward first clobbering an archer with that brutal club of his. This man had the misfortune to be strolling by in close proximity when the prison doors swung open. A small squeal escaped him before he dropped to the ground. Praesus was then on his way to his next foe, targeting two other archers closest to him in the yard.

I sent the zombie guard shambling towards the dickhead throwing rocks at Old Rufus. I saw the look of confusion on the rock throwers face, “Harold? Harold??” His expression then gave way to terror, “Harold! HAROLD! NO!!” I saw the guard tear into the man's neck, his arm went immediately limp and the remaining stones in his hand clomped to the ground. I had no idea blood could be so dark as it spurted from the wound, and then flowed down the man’s shirt.  

I darted for Rufus himself, to see how I might get him free. He was only chained up with a clasp, thankfully. I undid the simple mechanism. “Rufus old boy! Good to see you!.” The dog bypassed me, and then lunged beyond me, knocking another guard to the ground. This guard dropped a horned instrument to the hard packed dirt. One of the guards Praesus was pursuing peeled off made a run for the horn. “Don't let them call reinforcements!”

Praesus said nothing in reply. Instead he stopped, lining up a shot with his club. He aimed perfectly at the guard nearest the horn, and then let the club fly. It went wide arcing just past the guard’s left hand side. I was frantic, knowing that we were barely scraping by with these odds, it would be impossible if more troops arrived. Who knew how many armed individuals were at the ready to attack us in this place. Looking over at the zombie guard, he was still rending flesh from the stone throwing man’s body. Despite pausing his chase, Praesus had actually caught up with the other guard. He grabbed the man, and let their momentum carry the two of them into the stone wall of the courtyard. The two men collided with a muffled ummph, the guard absorbing the brunt of the impact. I turned my attention elsewhere as Praesus proceeded to repeatedly shove the man’s face against the hard stone. All the while, Rufus was struggling with the guard he had knocked over. The dog was trying to clamp his muzzle over the guard’s entire neckline. Dust from his fall mixed with the blood on his body created an unusual clotting effect. Everyone was occupied it seemed.

I had no choice, it was going to have to be me. As the final guard closed in on the horn, I closed in on him as well. I did my best imitation wrestling takedown; scooping the guard’s left leg, and lifting it, and his ass outward, throwing him off balance, then forcing him down with my own weight. A cloud of dirt surrounded us as we scrambled on the ground. I had landed on top of him, just shy of his knees. I only had a moment to swell with pride at my single leg before the guard kicked me in the face. I reeled backwards, my head and neck snapping backwards as he sounded the horn. That was until Praesus crept from behind him and broke his neck violently and quickly.

Praesus and even Old Rufus looked to me, and even the dog seemed to be casting judgement from his aged eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry.” It was all I could manage as from each section of the courtyard, the buildings, and domiciles themselves poured more guards answering the horn’s call.

At least a dozen guards enveloped our position. I saw archers leveling bows at the three of us, swordspeople with shields at the ready. Spears and scythes poked and prodded Praesus, Rufus and myself, maneuvering us to the center of the courtyard. Some of those that had arrived began to survey their fallen friends, the alarm in their eyes turning to anger.

A voice shouted to the group, “Should we string them up?”

A booming voice cut the air, “No,” a man pushed past the crowd. I recognized him, he was the first archer I encountered when Rufus and I had arrived here. “They are dangerous, too dangerous to set up gallows and the like. We kill them here, on my word.”

Old Rufus gave an ill-timed bark for punctuation as he paced between Praesus and myself. “You’re not helping,” I whispered.

The man knelt before me, “You’ve caused  lot of carnage since your arrival here,” his eyes flew to Praesus, “both of you.” His gaze went back to me, “Strangely convenient for a man you claim is your enemy, no?”

“You locked us up together, you gave us no choice but to conspire!” I realized during the course of my shouting that he was not at all paying attention to my words. He was surveying the courtyard meticulously.

When he finished he turned back to me.“Harold Rambly. Garreth Lee. Jonathan Tomy.” The man paused, getting in closer to me, looking down at the body nearest to me, he all but whispered, “Miguel Cervantes.”

“You took us prisoner! Gave us no-” I was kicked again, this time in the mouth.

As the man continued with his diatribe, I could see the mob behind him eager to exact revenge. The man, clad in a smoky grey leather armor, drew his sword and placed it at at my throat, applying just the slightest pressure to my Adam’s apple. The sensation made me gulp in revulsion.  He spoke once more, cocking his head back in a manner that made his dark hair flip upwards momentarily, “You took the lives of these men. And I, Anton Allaine will be the one that takes your life in reckoning.”

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 4

I knew our alliance would be a temporary one, even as we had shook hands only mere minutes prior. Even still, I hoped I could trust him to help get us free of this place before that alliance dissolved. Praesus towered over me, looking even larger than he had the first time we had a fought. He would most certainly bludgeon me. The possibility existed I might be killed. As I contemplated this, I was not afraid. I would not be backing down.

That’s when Praesus charged. The man flew at me, teeth grimaced, a unfamiliar battle cry escaping them. I readied my fists, and prepared myself for the losing end of combat. Then something unexpected happened.

Footsteps echoed towards us from downstairs. Without looking I thought it to be the excrement-covered guard, finally recovered from his ordeal. But the truth was more incredible. Motionless, with an ash-gray tone about his skin, the portly guard peered up from the last step. His posture was slouched, his arms hung at his sides. However, all those things were overshadowed by the dull green glow that emanated from his eyes.

Praesus, in the midst of his charge, did not seem to notice when the guard shambled forward, effectively cutting Praesus off from reaching me.

When this happened I could see two things; one Praesus couldn’t fathom what he himself was seeing, and two; the back of the guard’s head was completely caved in. It was like an eggshell, dented heavily in the center, the trauma spidering outwards. Only the guard’s head was uneven flesh, littered with clumps of brain matter and sections of blood-soaked hair. And yet he was standing between me and Praesus.  

How was the guard standing exactly?

Praesus halted mid-stride to take in what was before him. His mouth fell open, and when this happened, he dropped the club. It clunked to the stone floor, echoing slightly in the chamber. Praesus was now unarmed and transfixed. It seemed he was caught by the eyes of the portly guard. They glowed like embers in a dying fire, the only difference was their shade of emerald green as opposed to deep orange.

“What sorcery is this?” he mumbled.

I began laughing uncontrollably, to the point where I could barely catch my breath. “Even given the seriousness of this situation, it's a shame no one else heard that. I mean could you have used a more cliché line?”

Praesus was most certainly distracted as he stared into the eyes of a man he had murdered moments ago. I knelt to pick up the club. As I did this the portly guard mimicked my actions exactly.

I looked at the guard, Praesus looked at me, and I back at him. We both held the expressions of shock. I waved the club back and forth, the guard’s right arm did the same.

“What the-” Praesus began.

“You were going to say ‘fuck’ right? Eh, probably not, more my kinda word than yours. I dunno, but this is definitely an interesting development.”

Then it dawned on me.

“You are going to help me.” Even as I began to speak, I could see the resistance in Praesus’ eyes. “Now listen, I have the only weapon between us, and I have…” I looked to the guard, “whatever this is.”

The confidence in his own size and strength left Praesus. It seemed he was not inclined to tangle with forces he did not understand. Fleetingly, I wondered the prudence of doing so myself. In spite of this, I was seized by a strange optimism,

“Crack open that door, make sure that’s Old Rufus they have in the courtyard.” Praesus didn’t need to know it, but even if it wasn’t Rufus yelping, whatever was going on out there we were about to put a stop to it, regardless. “Well?”

“They have him, chained to a pole in the courtyard. They appear to be throwing stones at him.”

“We’ve wasted so much time already,” I walked to Praesus and began to hand over the club. “Look, I am giving this back to you because I know those people out there are armed.”

Praesus reached for the club. I drew it from his reach.

“But, if you try anything- anything- I will make sure this guard gets his vengeance upon you.” Saying this statement had a sense of righteousness to it, I felt justified in threatening Praesus with it, though I had no idea why. To accentuate this the guard let out a moan, and extended his hands towards Praesus’ throat.

“Down boy.” I grinned. “Can we work together to escape from here and get Rufus back?”

Praesus nodded, I gave him the club. “What’s the strategy squire?”

“You go out there and clobber as many as you can with this blunt object. And me and,” I cocked my thumb at the guard whose eyes still held that eerie green glow. The guard also cocked the same thumb to nobody in particular, “this guy will...do stuff.”

If Praesus had any doubts (which he should’ve) he did not voice them.

I flung open the doors that led to the courtyard.

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 3

Live up to the handshake he did.
Praesus rose from his spot on the cell floor. As the guards charged him things seemed to slow until they played out at a quarter of their speed. Praesus dipped underneath the swing of the portly guard’s club. As the guard stumbled forward off balance Praesus effortlessly darted around him, faster than seemingly possible, and plucked the club from his grasp. Following that, Praesus swiftly cracked the blunt instrument against the back of the portly guard’s head. A hollow groan escaped the portly guard’s throat before he dropped to his knees and then collapsed, lifeless. Praesus looked at the club in his left hand, he whipped it back and forth through the air, evaluating its weight. Then he leveled it at his next target, the guard in the hall.

Through feces spattered eyes, the guard saw the larger man approaching. “No, I beg of you, just, just go. I’m no threat to you. I won’t raise alarm.”

Praesus advanced, raised the club at the kneeling guard’s face, but then stopped short of a full swing. “I s’pse you’ve been through enough. You certainly smell like it.”

Backtracking into the cell, Praesus attempted to rouse me. “Squire, we need to leave before others arrive.” He nudged me with his boot heel, shook me. When neither of those worked he reeled back and swatted me across the face.

“Sweet Jesus,” I snapped awake my eyes spinning as fast as my brain to figure out what was going on. “I could see you.”

Praesus curled his upper lip and ignored my comment, ”We need to go, unless you plan on shittin’ your way through more guardsmen.”

“But when I was out, I could see what you were doing!”

Praesus shot me the same look; half indifference, half confusion, and again repeated himself. “We need to leave squire.”

I snapped back to my senses, largely because I realized I sounded out of my mind, rather than the gravity of needing to escape imprisonment. “Alright, let’s find Rufus.”

Praesus nodded, leading the way up a narrow set of steps. Flanking the wood door, were two empty primitive torch holders. I noted that they appeared to be made of heavy metal, though even their rust was faded by time.

As we stepped through the threshold, I asked Praesus; “When they brought you in did you see any animal pens or the like?”

“Nah, you?”

“Well, I was unconscious, so no.”

“Aye, seems to be a favored pastime of yours.”

I didn’t answer. Rather (and not for the first time) I questioned Praesus’ dialect. They way he spoke hinted at education, but he applied whatever learned diction he had obtained lazily. It was a strange hybrid of a cockney and Irish accent. I wondered if either of those terms would be familiar to my former enemy and current ally. I wondered where he called home.  I decided now was not the time to ask. But the thought made me long for my own abode, if only for a second. I was alive and thriving in the chaos around me, operating at a different, and inexplicable level. The moment was consuming me in a way it never had previously.

Briskly, myself and Praesus made our way to the ground floor of the prison. Silently, he motioned for me to check the view outside. I nodded.

Carefully approaching the door, I pushed it open slightly, obtaining a narrow view of the courtyard. I saw a half dozen foot soldiers pacing back and forth. Each maintained a loosely choreographed route of patrol. They carried swords inside long sheaths, and their backs bore the burden of circular shields. I sealed the door and reported this to Praesus.

“What say you?” he asked.

“We need to find Old Rufus.”

“The dog, yes,” he muttered gruffly.

As if on cue I heard a dog yelping from beyond the door.

“Rufus!” I went to head out the door but Praesus cut off my path. “There are six heavily armed men out there that will likely kill you on sight. Need I remind you, that you are an escaped prisoner?”

Somehow, I found myself gritting my teeth defiantly in this giant’s face. “Need I remind you, if it wasn’t for that dog I wouldn’t be here? Thanks to your actions no less!”

“I know what I have done, and I know the reasons behind my deeds. I too know that you going out there will expose us both. I will not allow it.” Praesus raised the club he had taken from the guard. It was not a friendly gesture.

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 2

The growling echoed in my ears distantly. I thought of a dog, or the concept of a dog at least. Then I thought specifically of Old Rufus. The fear I held for him snapped open my eyes, only Rufus was nowhere near me.

To make matters worse I was in a fetid cell of some kind. I saw aged stone tiles, dirty from wear and stained with viscera. They were punctuated by rusted bars. Across a narrow hall, I could see another cell. By and large identical to mine, no windows, decorated in retro-medieval torture style, though it was empty.

To make matters even worse I looked next to me and saw Praesus’ face staring into my own.

“Funny thing, us meeting this way.”

Instantly, I recoiled my entire body, and hopped upright in the corner, in what I interpreted to be my best defensive stance.

“Relax squire, no point in killin’ you in here. We in the same boat.”

Without dropping my hands, I said, “Great to know.”

“For now, just for now,” Praesus winked at me.

“Do you mind telling me what that god-awful smell is?”

With more than a hint of aloofness Praesus blurted, “Had to eliminate my bowels.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I had to shit,” casual as ever, Praesus enlightened me further by motioning to a small wooden bucket he had strategically placed in the corner.

“Great.” I said, accompanied by an eye roll. “Now I have to smell your ‘elimination’ until they kill us, or we starve to death.”

“Maybe, but bettin’ by day seven of no food whatever’s in that bucket might not smell so bad.”

I refused to think about that statement, or dignify it with a response.

“Currently though, we need to be figurin’ a way out of here,” he held out his hand.  

Looking around, I didn't have much to lose, so I shook it. Although I half expected him to shank me when I would’ve expected it the least he did nothing of the sort.

“Aye, what’s the plan?”

My mouth fell open, “What?”

“Well you seem like a right smart fellow.”

“I thought you might’ve been in this sort of predicament before...given your background.”

“Just how’s a man s’pposed to receive that remark?”

Praesus’ face mirrored the shock I had expressed only a moment ago.

“You’re kidding right? Ahem, in the remarkably short time I’ve known you, I’ve known you as a coercive,  kidnapping arsonist.”

Praesus nodded as vigorously as he grinned, “Right you are squire, but I need to tell you of a couple of things: one; those deeds I have actually done, and two I’ve never been interned for those, nor nothin’ else. These fools,” he motioned to what I imagined was the outside, “got me under lock and key for no cause. Only the thinkin’ that I might do something.”

“Shh, listen!” I said sharply.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. The two of us watched as guards entered into view. One was portly, the other lean. They wore matching red outfits, emblazoned with gold accents. Cowls covered most of their faces, save for their mouths and chins. Both of them looked as though they may never have been washed.  

“Inspiration means action requires little forethought.” I said to Praesus before making a mad dash for the bucket.

I scooped up the container, and ceased inhaling. Aiming my throw between the bars didn’t prove too difficult. The excrement sailed through the air in a thick arc, coating the lean guard completely on one side. The remaining waste splattered with a disgusting noise against the floor. The coated guard’s response was perfectly reasonable; he fell to his knees and began hurling uncontrollably.

The portly guard however, was angry. He went for the keys at his belt. “You little mongrel! The portly guard twisted the key in the lock. He drew another item from his belt, this one a baton that terminated in a swelled end. “I’m going to make you lick that off Lawrence’s uni until it’s clean!” The portly guard swung the door open mightily.

I turned to Praesus, “Smart guy got the door open, your turn.” Immediately following my statement I was struck in the back of the head. I went down hoping Praesus would live up to our handshake.

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 1

As the purple light grew stronger, I could make out only a few footprints that remained in the dissipating snow. I had no way of knowing who they belonged to. As Old Rufus and I approached the gate, it reminded me how this was already our second journey.

The first started nearly the same, and not long ago. This creature had been there, nearly from the start. As it would happen, I was lucky to have him by my side.

I looked to him, but Rufus still had his head hunkered low, he was sniffing the ground intently. We were now within a few hundred yards of a weathered door, giant wooden planks sealed by a large metal brace and rivets that looked almost modernistic. Together they formed an ingress as big as the entrance to an airplane hangar.

The door was surrounded on both sides by the perimeter that the gate formed. The gate itself seemed to stretch into infinity in opposite directions. Directly surrounding the entrance, the snow had either been disposed of, or had melted away, as it was nearly non-existent. Tundra grass and dirt were exposed in countless patches and tufts.  Flanking the door small bushes, devoid of leaves, begged to be put out of their misery. To look at them was to know they had been burned. Except for one curious thing, a speckle of green couldn’t hide even behind the scorched bushes. It was a pine bough, fresh enough to still have it’s scent. Preasus?

As soon as I had noticed the pine bough Old Rufus seemed to as well. He darted forward. When he did this, I heard a shout from above. My eyes followed the noise, up and up for seemingly forever. Until I saw a dot of a man perched in a tall turret.

“Restrain the beast. And tell me, what business do you have here?” the voice was steady, and I noticed the man speaking had drawn an arrow from a quiver upon his back. It was primed and rested taught in his bowstring.

“Rufus, come back here.” Old Rufus unconcerned about the archer, lazily returned to my side. “Don’t shoot! Err, don’t fire. My name is...well my name isn’t important. I followed a man here, a umm, a villain!”

The man in the tower hollered, “Keep your sights on him. I’m going to meet him.” Then he disappeared out of sight.

It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to me. My eyes followed his gaze. There was a second turret, again with a platform at its apex, on it was another archer, this one a woman.

“Call reinforcements. Don’t move stranger.” the woman shouted down. Her lip curled in a smile. She seemed to be thrilled to have something to aim at.

“Do you want me to hold up my hands?” I shouted up to the woman.

She shrugged, “If I shoot you, I’m not going to shoot you in the hands.” I pondered this for a moment until I heard a horn sound from within the walls. It was a single long note. The machinery behind the walls groaned and squealed. Moments passed until I heard the mechanisms of the great door being swung open.

When it finally was moved aside four men and another woman greeted me. By greeted, I mean they all gazed at me with dour expressions. I waved, and Old Rufus wagged his tail with minimal effort.

The lot of them had swords, except for the first archer who pushed past the crowd and spoke, “You stated you followed a villain here?”

“That’s right.”

“What did this villain look like?” said a bulldozer of a man with a broadsword at the ready.

“Umm, blonde hair, long, in braids.”

The archer spoke again, “This man is your enemy?”

I don’t know why but I laughed, “You could say that.”

The group narrowed their eyes at me. The female archer, still atop her post yelled, “You want me to shoot him?”

My entire body flinched at the question.

“Not yet.”

“Yet?” I asked.

The archer spoke, “The man with the braids was caught in front of our walls a short time before daybreak. He was covering his footprints with a branch. Sort of the behavior that inhabitants behind the wall might find suspicious. Don’t you agree?”

I nodded.

“Much like the fact that another stranger shows up just after we’ve locked him up. Again, odd don’t you agree?”

“Wait a second,” I raised my hands, begging off.

“Shoot him.” the archer commanded.

Before I could argue any further a white light lit up my right temple, and my vision went black. The last thing I heard before I fell to the ground was, “Get the dog.”


TO BE CONTINUED!

Window Shopping : Kingdom Without a King- Prologue

The wind was cruel, it attacked me from all sides. Likewise, the snow crept higher along the sides of my borrowed boots, the same time as it crunched beneath them. The snow was no longer falling, but from the looks of things, it had came quickly and heavily, not much earlier. The temperature was crisp, cold, and well below freezing. Although, unthinkable, I ignored the elements.

Although, I had been doing the unthinkable for at least the past twenty four hours. I had befriended an otherworldly dog/wolf hybrid. I met some very interesting people who I learned nothing about despite being interrogated by them for hours. I was kidnapped. I stole a dead man’s boots. Oh, and that reminds me, I am at least partially involved in a murder perpetrated by the aforementioned dog/wolf thing. And in most unbelievable fashion, I had transversed dimensions, or worlds, or something.

To be fair, I didn’t really know what I had been doing. It was entirely possible that I may very well be passed out in my basement after drinking too much. But it all felt so real. I guess that’s what all the nutcases say.

Anyway, despite all of that I still felt compelled to leap through yet another window. This was to go after a guy that is nearly twice my size, and seems to be well versed in the art of getting what he wants from people, by any means necessary. Oh, and he has way better hair than me, it’s kinda long, wavy blonde, with these cool braids…

...But I digress. And that’s not why I followed him. If I’m being honest, and I think I am, its because I’m bored. And leaping through interdimensional windows (or whatever these things are) beats real life. I mean at least until wake up from this dream world it will at least provide a distraction.

Next to me, trudging through the same snow was Old Rufus. He was hard to see due to the absence of light. Yet the faint lupine shape seemed to be blacker than the darkness that surrounded. We both scanned a horizon that was barely discernable. The difference with Rufus was that occasionally he would glance at me, his eyes piercing the night. They seemed confident, like he knew where he was going, which was more than I could say for myself. I imagined his line of sight radiating out before us, as though his field of vision were casting high beams. It made me feel better about the journey, and was a way to distract from the cold. Inside another part of my head, the fanciful gave way to the analytical.

Is this pup following Praesus’s scent? We should be seeing footprints right? Wherever this guy Praesus was headed he should be only a minute or three ahead of us, and leaving behind a trail through the snow. Right? Was he supernatural? This thought made my stomach twist in a quick, but lurching knot.

I left these thoughts and returned to the real world. To our right was a faint light in the distance. It peeked in a hazy dark purple that broke against the blackness. But the shape was not reminiscent of a moon, or sun. It was a slash, one that cut a jagged swath across the flesh of the sky. As my eyes adjusted to the new, yet weak light, my brain also adjusted to take in what I was seeing.

Ahead of us was an outline, barely visible thanks to the strange new light in the sky. I had read enough fairytales as a child to know that the silhouette before me was that of a castle. Old Rufus turned to me and grinned in that panting smile that canines have. He then faced forward, lowering his head, hardening himself for the rest of the journey. His body language seemed to hint that once we arrived at said castle our work would just be beginning.  

Combating Terror

 First off, I am no expert. What I offer in the below is what I believe to be a bipartisan solution to the terror attacks that have unfortunately become all too common across the globe and here at home within the U.S.

We may see eye-to-eye on these points, or we may differ on all counts but in order to solve for this horrific epidemic we need a multipronged approach that addresses more than a single religion or race as the antagonist or a single populace as the victim.

                In the aftermath of the Orlando shootings that occurred in the early hours of June 12^th I am still wondering how we can live in a world where violence is becoming less predictable by the second. How it seems, as people we can let one of our own drift so far astray that they could not only justify, but then visit, the most heinous acts upon another human being. The concept is beyond me.

                Those of you that read this page regularly are aware that I try to approach my ramblings with a clumsy sort of humor in order to lighten the subject matter at times to provide levity. This subject however, being one of the most grim I have written on, will not fit that mold. I intend to stay focused and solemn out of respect for the victims and their families and friends, as I collect my thoughts on what is no doubt a serious and real subject.

                Item #1 – What are we dealing with?

                Recall that this isn’t solely a “gay” issue, this isn’t even a “Muslim” issue, and it ceased being a local, or even American problem years ago. We need to understand that trying to label and assign generalizations to those who have been attacked, or those that do the attacking is presumptive, and generally a waste of time. It’s futile as rationale human beings to try and assign meaning to the meaningless.

                Terrorism, foreign or domestic is (and has been) a global issue. Both its perpetrators and targets are faceless, and yet known to us- because they are us.

                Item #2 – What’s the diagnosis?

                No one can argue that any person; man or women, black, white, brown or orange that conspires to carry out atrocities against innocent strangers cannot be deemed mentally stable. We as people need to take responsibility and increase our own awareness for our fellow person. We need to ensure that no soul falls through the cracks of society and thus is never in a position to be retrieved by a group like ISIS, or otherwise allow dark thoughts to begin to take root.

                We need to take ownership of the mental stability of our society, make a better effort to engage people where they are at, and act like we care instead of only saying we do.

                Who knows, in time maybe we can add resources and outreach programs at a national level, but it starts in our communities.

                Item #3 – Action speaks louder than inaction

                Around the world our leaders need to come to a consensus with groups that would commit acts of terror, or claim responsibility, that doing so puts a target on the backs of its members.

                Those with the authority to do so then must seek out those targets, and simply put make examples of them, whether that be financially, materialistically, or more *final* measures.

                Send the message that we may not have struck the first blow, but we will strike the last.

                I know that in a lot of ways the above is general, its level of hopefulness possibly only dwarfed by its abstract assembly, but it beats the buzz word filled blame game approach (“gun control”, “gun free zones” etc.) and ham-fisted rhetoric (“radicalized Muslim”, “refugees”) of those politicos who seem to only use these sad events to elevate their level of publicity instead of actually presenting a course of action to combat them. In closing, if you aren’t part of the solution, you are part of the problem.

                Its in that vein where I’ll wrap up, if you don’t like my ideas, rather than lampoon them; I encourage you to formulate some of your own. Then try to act upon them (form a community group, write your elected officials). Who knows your inventiveness just might save lives.