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Suns & Shields

By Rachelle Hamlin

Read more of Rachelle's editorials:  Suns & Shields Index page


By: Rachel Hamlin

Fort Fairfield Journal, November 26, 2014

It came via Facebook from a really nice, normal married man who lives in Connecticut with his wife, pets and extended family. I relish his random messages on my news feed. He’s not self-conscious or striving in them. Neither is he on a persuade crusade. He simply posts messages that reveal the heart of a good man living a simple, loving life. So it touched my heart deeply when he shared this at three in the morning: “Another beheading. When will it stop?”

As my friend cried out in compassion from discovering another beheading, another story appeared on the same newsfeed by a mother of a Downs Syndrome baby. She told of a store clerk who whispered to her that there was a way now of selectively killing those babies before they were born. This mother had temporarily forgotten that her delightful little boy was a Down’s child. She went ballistic when this happened, then calmed down enough from her outrage to write about it and post it to others.

Our American culture, under the guise of freedom, indulges the base cravings of lewd and crazy people with snuff films. To the innocent among us, a snuff film is reality video in which the viewer watches one person murder another. Yet vile as that is, our society has developed degrees of tolerance for brother-snuffing otherwise called fratricide. Leave it to gradualism to hide murder under still another new word to hide the fact of murder, and turn it into a commodity with a price tag. It won’t cost much to abort your unwanted baby in America, and for a price you can buy a genuine snuff film. For the price of a movie ticket anyone can watch actor Matt Damon’s performance in a “let’s pretend it’s a snuff film” movie. Same sick thrill.

It used to be that all murder was a crime, forbidden socially, subject to the harshest punishment. Now for generations since the Marx Brothers, brother hurting brother has become a national pastime… something to laugh about, something to remember, something funny to share with family members. I used to cry when Harpo, Groucho, Gemmo and Chico would poke each other in the eyes, hit each other on the head with sledgehammers or push each other off rooftops. Others called it slapstick comedy because of the slapping and hitting people with sticks. They made money and became American idols.

Neither did I like watching Tweedy Bird being chased and bashed to death by Sylvester the Cat. To like the cartoon characters, I had to accept what they were doing to each other and I couldn’t. Soon it wasn’t enough for our kids to watch Roadrunner practice brother-snuffing, they grew up and produced all manner of ways to actually perpetuate those, scary, funny, amazing fights between species and make it possible for a new generation to have fun PERSONALLY doing the snuffing. I remember Pac Man, the first computer game to give me the power to be in control of Pac Man, the one who could snuff out any and all opponents that he (or she) came to. Brother-snuffing was now simply called fun. Fun “games” of brother-snuffing are now a billion dollar industry here.

I once gave a young hitchhiker a lift in Virginia. We had a distance to drive and he confided a lot of information to me as I drove. The main thing I learned is that he yearned to be able to use his skill as a marksman to kill people, but being morally constrained by family and society, he was on his way to offer his services to the military. He had tried to get money from co-workers by offering his services as a gun-for-hire but no one took him seriously. Wonder where he is today?

A young married mother was watching TV with her husband when she burst out sobbing. She’d seen a man shoot another man on a Detective Show. She knew they were actors acting out a story. But, she didn’t know why one of the actors had to die. She thought the bullets were real and the death was real. This really happened to someone I know.

All I can say is OMG, our great grandkids are being raised by that generation. It seems to them that brother snuffing is just part of how people do life; life as a culture of death. Why are we surprised when they use guns on each other? We have paid for those televisions, movies and abortion clinics. We have staffed them. We have made American Icons out of these industries. We subscribe to their magazines.

What about mid-Eastern brothers who routinely kill their brothers? Is the problem that the head is cut off making it murder without a special name to hide it by? What about Russian aggressors and all the rest of mankind that studies how to brother-snuff under all manner of pretenses and pretexts? I submit to you that they are simply brother-snuffing in a less sophisticated way than we are.

William Blake said “It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another but from God alone.” Problem is, that Jesus expects us to be as holy as Father God! That being said, I think we are better off calling murder by its proper name, so we can feel the outrage, rather than making it an American Industry for passing pleasures.



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