The Angry Exile: This will make the Righteous crack the shits.

The Hangman

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.
The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."
And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief
And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.
And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.
And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."
He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."
Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"
And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.
That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;
Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"
And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."
The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"
The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."
And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.
The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all
For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.
He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.
And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.
"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.
For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"
"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."
Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Maurice Ogden

Thursday 13 August 2009

This will make the Righteous crack the shits.

Just get a load of this.

Six years old! Six!

At just six years of age, Miko Andres from the Philippines is believed to be the world's youngest practical shooter.
Pictured here at the Armscor Shooting Club, Miko loads, aims and fires his semiautomatic weapon at moving targets.
Complete with a gun belt, shades and a tailored shirt, Miko travels across the country participating in national junior competitions.
Competing against children ten years his senior (in the 9-17 age group), Miko is now looking to travel to America to test his talents.
For Miko's father, Cresencio "Mike" Pascua Andres JR, the boy's passion and natural ability for practical shooting has been carefully monitored by his family and shooting community.
"It is within the family and friends that Miko was influenced to love and enjoy the practical shooting sport," says Mike. "Because of his interest, we took turns in teaching, training and coaching him on the basics of the sport."

It's not the theme of the DT article, which is very neutral as an article in the Other Sports/Shooting section should be, but I can hear the cries of alarm from here. Won't somebody please think of the chiiiill... er, the other chiiiiilldren!

Ha! Well I am thinking of the children - the other children - and I think that too fucking many of them are going to grow into adolescence thinking that guns are either toys or something to be feared, whereas the truth is that they are neither. Miko Andres on the other hand has been introduced to shooting in a safe way and is under the supervision of people who we must assume love him and have his best interests at heart.

Despite the obvious dangers and concerns raised over a boy of six handling such a weapon, Mike is eager to stress that safety is always at the forefront of his mind.
"Safety is of the utmost importance," he says, adding his son was having guidance and help from a range of shooting institutions to try and prevent accidents.
"As a parent, I too am worried about the dangers of the sport. Accidents and injuries might happen in the course of the sport and that is always a concern.
He added: "Here he is, the youngest practical shooter the world has ever known.
"As a growing, normal kid, Miko is also into other children's games. He enjoys the company of his schoolmates.
"Miko is very young but is determined to excel in the practical shooting sport," says Mike.
"He has been taught a lot of discipline and respect.
"Miko, I and his team coach, constantly talk about the dangers of the sport and we are always reminding him that he is in a 'big boys' game and that safety of of the utmost importance."

He seems highly likely to grow into someone who can be trusted to handle guns safely and responsibly, which despite me being an occasional shooter as well is more than I can say for myself at his age.

2 comments:

JuliaM said...: "Miko Andres on the other hand has been introduced to shooting in a safe way and is under the supervision of people who we must assume love him and have his best interests at heart."

What better way to learn?

It won't please the hoplophobes, but then, nothing does, so why try?; 14 August 2009 at 02:58
Angry Exile said...: Absolutely. Just like putting golf bats and tennis clubs into the hand of potential Tiger Woodses or Roger Federers at a young age. And of course nobody expects Tiger or Roger to beat someone to death with the tools of their respective sports. And as I said, it seems highly likely that he'll grow up with a safe and responsible attitude towards guns. I don't know if I'd be bold enough to start a hypothetical child of mine that young with a .45 but then Victorian law wouldn't let me anyway. And not with a .45 either.; 14 August 2009 at 11:35