Our huge country, like a great lion besieged by a pack of hyenas, shakes them off but seems to get weaker after each attack; and the pack grows more frenzied. These killings are acts of cowardice, slaughtering unarmed innocents trying to love their lives; acts of hate — hate of their miserable selves transferred to the smiling outside world; acts of failure, blaming people of different color, women who reject them, families that are happy. They are scarcely human anymore, but hyenas trying to drag any helpless prey down to their level. Hyenas secrete a fatty substance in their anal glands, and in this way can recognize their clan members, and gather together. If we can remove the head hyena in our country, there may be hope that the clan will weaken and disperse.

Numbingly, there’s nothing more to say, except repeat an old poem with small variations:

The Gun Lobby Makes Its Sales Pitch

‘What d’you say?’ the NRA

chief panjandrum began to bray

‘What d’you say when a drug-crazed crook

hammers your door and breaks the lock

and shoots your loved ones while they pray?

We need good guys with guns or they

will damn well shoot you first—each day

it’s them or us so Write your check!

What d’you say?’

. . . Dayton . . . Aurora . . . Mandalay