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A morbid twist of fate

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This is as morbid as it gets. Bellicose men known for their viciousness on the receiving end of hate vigilantes? You must be joking! This is not a moment of misplaced glee, but someone could not help but wonder whether the reports were true. A sad twist of irony perchance? That particular death – the newsmen from another planet prefer to call it murder – becomes national news because of the political hue of the fallen comrade. The other fella next door is only killed by “unknown people” when everybody else seems to know the face of that hand that rocked the cradle and took a life. Is that what we have become, a nation whose collective conscience has been overthrown by this diabolic callousness and where nonsense is celebrated as sense? A nation that regrets one death and celebrates another? Is that what we have allowed other mortal men to turn us into? Other beloved nations have cried, but ours seems to be on the indefatigable attempt to be the stentorian equivalent of the town criers of yore. But it is the screams of latter day fallen heroes that will ring in the ears of evildoers, driving them insane down to their dark places of repose. “Repose” because perhaps they will make peace with their Maker when that light visible only to people staring that inevitable crossover shines in front of them. And then with clear consciences, the remaining souls tormented by the Devil they knew get that morbid satisfaction. “Vengeance is mine said the Lord.”

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