Remember in this previous blog post when I said:
On the other hand, his transits on January 21, 2013 are definitely indicative of a pleasant inauguration day. Lots of heartfelt communication, expansion in power (although not an easy one), and a sense of new self. This comes after a seriously brutal transit of guilt and self-doubt around the middle of December. He might even have heavy religious doubts. On inauguration day, he’ll still be reeling from the burst bubble.
And then this happened:
On December 14, 2012, Adam Lanza, 20 years old, fatally shot twenty children and six adult staff members at Sandy Hook Elementary School in the Sandy Hook village of Newtown, Connecticut. He had killed his mother, Nancy Lanza, at their nearby Newtown home before driving to the school. After shooting the students and staff members, he committed suicide.
If ever there was something faith-shaking…this is it.
While you have seen him tear up, you can believe he has taken this deeply to heart. He probably even blames himself — if not for what happened, then most certainly for anything that might happen later.
I don’t mind if he has a crisis of faith. It’s healthy and makes us rely more on reason than blind expectations. And while I want him to make this personal, I don’t want him to take this personally and crumple. I hope he finds the strength because he’s going against powerful foes as he backs an assault rifle ban. I want them to feel the concrete in his fist when it hits the political structures that have kept this country at the mercy of NRA interests.
Rock on, Mr. President. We, the People, are behind you. The reasonable People, anyway.
Just a warning to everyone that I’ve exceeded my 24-hour limit of jackasses, hacks and frauds. Why don’t they just put themselves in the ground rather than other people? (And is this happening every other fucking day now or what?)
Oh, and Margaret B. Jones can triply fuck herself, as well as the gullible dopes at Penguin who didn’t fact check her story, making it more difficult for someone with a real story to tell. Salopes et cons touts.
I finished the first draft of the article and The Frenchman is reading it for accuracy. It’s about France and French stuff, and I’m well inclined to send it to The New Yorker, since Kathleen Spivack and my agent keep saying my style is perfect for that. I guess we’ll test that theory. Also, it’s around 3500 words, so it’s much too long for Slate’s sound bites and I have no desire to try it on Salon since it’s highly critical of something they published (but in the nicest possible way, of course).
We’re about to take off for Paris and Rouen tomorrow. It’s our final goodbye to family and friends before we head back home. I’m feeling mopey about it but at the same time thrilled to see The Frenchman’s brother-in-law play his cello in a classical concert. The cello is one of my favorite instruments. I don’t have any recordings, which is odd. If any of you have recommendations, please let me know.
In other news, I’ve been doing some broad research that accidentally included the case of a girl I knew in school who was murdered around the same time as two of her friends were also murdered, Summer 1984. Once I saw the PDF of the news article, I remembered reading it the day before my birthday, August 22, 1984. The only things found were bones and clothing in separate locations and times. They positively identified the remains but have no clue as to what actually happened to the three teenagers. In the meantime, the case itself is one of the most insane things I’ve read in many, many years. With the help of a fellow high school alumni, I’ve been able to get swarms of newspaper articles from the local paper. The upshot is that some guy has been sitting on Death Row for over 20 years in San Quentin due to the perjured testimony of two teenage girls who turned out to be chronic liars. There was zero physical evidence. In 2003, because of the loopy testimony recantations over the years and assertions of satanic rituals, a judge finally said he would grant writ of habeas corpus, but he was the dissenting judge. I cannot for my life figure out how they upheld the conviction this way. It chills me to my toenails.
The prosecuting attorney committed suicide in 1989. If these were the kinds of cases he was dealing with, I can totally see what pushed him over the brink. What I want to know is why these girls aren’t in prison for perjury, but I suppose various immunities were granted for whatever reason.
Satanic rituals my ass.
Back to the word mill.