The Virginia massacre will drive the question of gun control back into the mainstream US debate. I have already noted some strange details emerging:
Roanoke Firearms owner John Markell said his shop sold the Glock to Cho in March. The serial number had been scratched off, but federal agents traced it to the store using a receipt found in Cho’s backpack.
Why scratch the serial number? And why keep the receipt?
Because he killed and injured so many victims in a short span of time, some people speculated that Cho used high-capacity magazines containing as many as 33 rounds in each clip.
Under the federal assault-weapons ban enacted in 1994, magazines were limited to 10 rounds. But that ban was allowed to expire in 2004.
“The key thing that we have seen in all of these school shootings is easy access to high firepower weapons,” said Daniel Vice, an attorney with the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence. “These killings can’t be done with baseball bats and knives.”
The ban was allowed to expire because…? Remember how the current US administration recently also fought against an international ban or regulation of illegal arms?
I was listening to a live performance and was shocked to hear a young guy belting out these old Dylan phrases as if they were freshly inked:
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
‘Til I’m sure that you’re dead
Harsh. I think I was expecting something more like Metallica One interpretations from younger generations, but given the Bush administration’s affinity for revisiting mistakes from the 1960s it is easy to see why kids might find poetry of that period most compelling.