Enter the Kill Zone

Normally I post my columns over the weekend.   Because of last weeks extraordinary event at Virginia Tech I pre-empted my April 14th column and posted 33 on the 17th.   If you only visit this site once a week and missed the Offend Me column you can access it by clicking on the Archive button.

While I have no clairvoyant powers, the Offend Me column did start with an eerie paragraph where I lamented my wretched high school years and responded by shooting classmates Columbine style.   Two days later, Cho Seung-Hui killed himself after thirty-two others.   The coincidence was a bit unnerving.

I don’t think it is terribly unusual for people to imagine such transgressions, what is unusual of course, is acting upon them.   Most of us take our insults and deal with them, some internalize and some act out, but certainly not by shooting people.   I used all that pent up frustration and drove it into my ambition and my determination.   I’m gonna be rich, I’m gonna be rich, I’m gonna be rich I’ll get these bastards back by being richer than any of them!

It may not have been the most mature method of handling my situation, but I felt better off for it and today the optimism, self-confidence, and determination that is required to succeed permeates my personality.

What is it that drives some over the edge while others cope and blossom?

America has become a narcissistic society and a culture where we are each entitled to certain minimums.   When those minimums are not provided, rage is justified, not only justified, but expected.   Someone has to pay, someone is responsible.   Our liberal politicians and their class-warfare strategies never suggest it is individuals themselves who are responsible for their own minimums.   Almost always, it is the rich; the rich who are taking from the poor.

The utter absurdity of this contention is hard to fathom.   Liberals consistently vilify wealth and point out the disparity in incomes, never acknowledging that even though disparity does exist, the quality of life for the lower classes is so much greater because of efforts by the upper classes.

Liberals fail to point out that those who make the simple responsible effort of going to a job everyday and maintaining frugality over their funds are not poor.

Even worse than the left’s propensity to blame wealth for society ills, their assault on God and religion has destroyed the moral character of our nation and left in its wake a humanity unable to recognize right and wrong.

Mr. Seung-Hui killed 32 Americans.   What do you expect after going through a University system that consistently charges the wealthy for plight of the downtrodden and suggests evil results from an unjust society subjugating the poor?   It is society’s fault Cho Seung-Hui flipped out, he said so in his manifesto.   He was actually a very good student; he learned his liberal lessons well!

How much of a push did it take for him to jump already walking the ledge?

The American left has done such a bang-up job (no pun intended) driving a deranged introvert to 32 murders, and who do they blame?   Gun makers, of course.

Those magic guns; I can just see Cho Seung-Hui being prompted on by his dastardly Model 19 pistol:

Inside the sparse Virginia Tech Dorm Room among scattered rubbish, soda cans and papers, our protagonist, Cho Seung-Hui stews.   A video camera ominously sits atop a rickety tripod in the corner.   Cho fumbles with bullet cartridges and pistol magazines set on a small coffee table as sweat beads up on his forehead.

Come on Cho, load ‘em up, load ‘em up.


Shots ring out from inside the room.   Screams chillingly fill the air.   Cho bursts through the door anxiously making his way to the next classroom.   He tries to enter, but the door is blocked by the classroom’s professor.   Cho can see students scurry out back windows through the door’s window.

Shoot the Jew, shoot the Jew.

A shot rings out and the professor falls to the floor.   Cho enters the room, but all students have escaped.   Cho paces back and forth nervously.


The pistol swings up and out of screen.

What are you doing?   We are in the kill zone.
No one can stop you.   You’re the only one with a gun.
No No Don’t do that

A final shot rings out.   Cho falls.   The pistol lies silently on the floor, motionless, filling the frame.


Great, now I’ll never get as many as my buddy fertilizer bomb.


Copyright 2007 Jim Pontillo