by Carl Hiaasen
It was self-defense, Your Honor.
Honest.
April 22, 2007
Focus on the Victims, Not Their Disturbed Killer
Somewhere in the bowels of hell, Seung-Hui Cho must be smiling. He’s getting what he wanted: global infamy.
Now everybody with a TV set knows his name and his face. That sick little ditty bag that he sent to NBC did the trick.
Look at me, world! I’m the Virginia Tech killer!
In the news business, it’s unusual to receive a publicity packet from a dead person, much less a dead mass murderer. To help craft his legacy, Cho put together an ambitious multimedia presentation: photos, videos, and writings compiled in the six days before he murdered 32 students and faculty members and then shot himself.
NBC quickly turned over the material to investigators, but not before copying it. The contents are pretty much what you’d expect from a paranoid, homicidal, narcissistic nut job.
There’s the tediously hateful, vague, and meandering scribblings; the predictably rambling video loops in which the killer portrays himself as a long-suffering victim of unspecified injustices; and finally, the personal photo gallery complete with vainglorious self-portraits and the obligatory macho gun poses.
Certainly it’s shocking stuff, but it’s also a premeditated performance. Cho was still sane enough to know that because most of us could not fathom such a monstrous crime, we’d be frantic to learn every possible detail about him. He was also sane enough to know that the media would go wild over his posthumously delivered press kit, which was mailed during a break in the shooting spree. Cho is not the first mass killer to have craved recognition, but he’s the first to successfully exploit DVD technology.
Back in the summer of 1966, Charlie Whitman had only a typewriter with which to attempt to explain what he was about to do. “I don’t really understand myself these days,” he wrote. “I am supposed to be an average reasonable and intelligent man. However, lately (I can’t recall when it started) I have been a victim of many unusual and irrational thoughts.”
Hours later, Whitman murdered his mother and then his wife. The next morning, the Florida-born former Marine took a high-powered arsenal to the top of the University of Texas Tower and shot 45 innocent people, killing 16.
Those of us old enough to remember that terrible day also remember the stunned bafflement pervading the nation. “Why?” was the question everybody was asking. Why in the world did Whitman do it?
In the typed suicide note, he complained of severe headaches and even requested that an autopsy be performed on his body to see if something was wrong. Medical examiners did find a brain tumor, although experts disagreed about whether that could have caused him to snap so violently.
Unlike Cho’s suicide messages, Whitman’s final notes were neither seething with anger nor laced with fantasies of persecution. He hinted at a difficult relationship with his father, yet he wrote adoringly of both his mother and his wife. In the end, the reason for Whitman’s sniping rampage remained a mystery. This is what was known beyond any doubt: He was a seriously screwed-up guy.
Which is ultimately all that will ever be known—and all that really matters—about Seung-Hui Cho. He was demented, he was deluded, he was dangerous. End of story. I don’t care if he had a brain tumor or an impacted wisdom tooth. I don’t care if he had an adverse reaction to his medicines. I don’t particularly care about his childhood, his dorm life, or what songs he played on his iPod.
After all is said and done—and that day cannot come soon enough—Cho will go into the history books as another troubled loner with documented mental problems who walked into a gun shop and bought himself a headline.
As in the Whitman case, the incalculable misery inflicted by Cho has generated an almost desperate hunger for answers. NBC had no choice but to broadcast his disturbing photos and video rants; sketchy insight into the murderous mind is better than none at all. Cho surely was aware that once his self-promotional package hit the airwaves, his face would be everywhere, indelible and inescapable. As crazy as he was, he knew exactly what to feed the media beast.
So we sit through replay after replay of his toxic tirades on television. We pick up a newspaper or a magazine, and there’s the ubiquitous faux Rambo picture, a glowering Cho with his arms extended, a gun in each black-gloved hand. We get it, already. He was an angry and unwell young man who cracked up. He was also an evil publicity freak. Now that we know what we do about Cho, the choice falls to us. Mine is to change the channel whenever his face appears. Let him be infamous on someone else’s time.
Among the many who deserve more attention in death are those he executed for no reason: Ross Alameddine, Christopher Bishop, Brian Bluhm, Ryan Clark, Austin Cloyd, Jocelyne Couture-Nowak, Daniel Perez Cueva, Kevin Granata, Mathew Gwaltney, Caitlin Hammaren, Jeremy Herbstritt, Rachel Hill, Emily Hilscher, Jarrett Lane, Matt La Porte, Henry J. Lee, Liviu Librescu, G. V. Loganathan, Partahi Lumbantoruan, Lauren McCain, Daniel O’Neill, Juan Ortiz, Minal Panchal, Erin Peterson, Michael Pohle, Julia Pryde, Mary Karen Read, Reema Samaha, Waleed Mohammed Shaalan, Leslie Sherman, Maxine Turner, and Nicole White.
These are names worth remembering, lives worth examining.
That other guy? Just another sicko in a long bloody line.
April 13, 2008
Firearm Law Adds Danger to Workplace
Happiness is a warm gun in a steaming-hot car.
After years of wimping around, Florida lawmakers finally passed a law that will allow you to bring your favorite firearm to work, providing you leave it locked in your vehicle.
Last week, the Legislature approved the Preservation and Protection of the Right to Keep and Bear Arms in Motor Vehicles Act, otherwise known as the Disgruntled Workers’ Speedy Revenge and Retaliation Law.
In the past, deranged employees who wanted to mow down their boss and colleagues had to drive all the way home to fetch their guns. It was a waste of a perfectly good lunch hour, not to mention the gasoline.
Soon, however, any simmering paranoid with a concealed-weapons permit will legally be able to take his firearms to work. If a supervisor rebukes him for surfing porn sites, or a coworker makes fun of his mismatched socks, he can simply stroll out to the parking lot and retrieve his Glock or AK-47 (or both) to settle the grievance.
There will be no long ride home during which he might reconsider what he’s about to do, no time lost rummaging through closets in search of ammunition and clean camo fatigues. Everything he needs for instant revenge will be waiting right there in his car, whenever the urge might arise.
Sissy liberals and even conservative business leaders say the new law is a recipe for mayhem, but they have no faith in the competence or judgment of Florida’s gun owners. Concealed-weapons permits have been issued to about 490,000 residents, not one of whom could possibly be volatile, schizoid, or even slightly unreliable. The standards are too exclusive, requiring a gun-safety course, a pulse, and a rap sheet free of nasty felonies.
The business lobby and state Chamber of Commerce successfully fought the new gun bill for three years, citing many violent workplace shootings committed by unhinged employees around the country. At last, though, the Republican-led Legislature and Gov. Charlie Crist have bowed to the wisdom of the National Rifle Association. While there was no public demand for bringing firearms to office buildings, malls, and other workplaces, the gun lobby recognized the urgent need—not to mention the obvious convenience—of having loaded weapons in the parking lot.
The bill was sponsored in the Senate by Durell Peaden, a Republican from the Panhandle town of Crestview, located on Route 90 between DeFuniak Springs and Milton. This must be a perilous stretch of highway, with robbers and thugs lurking behind every billboard—why else would Sen. Peaden have taken up the cause for putting more guns on the road?
It’s true that, statewide, crime statistics show that few motorists are randomly assaulted on the way to or from their jobs. And it’s also true that you’re
far more likely to be accosted by someone who disapproves of the way you change lanes than by someone who wants to steal your BlackBerry.
But don’t be confused by facts, and don’t be afraid to be afraid. Millions of Floridians innocently drive to work unarmed every day. If there’s terror in their eyes, it’s only because our highways are crawling with maniacs who don’t know how to drive. Fortunately, the Legislature and the NRA are here to remind us of a larger, unseen menace. Without a firearm in the vehicle, commuters are easy prey for marauding dope fiends, muggers, and carjackers.
The new law isn’t perfect because of the aforementioned requirement that you can’t take your gun to work unless you have a concealed-weapons permit. Not to worry. The law prohibits your employer from inquiring about your gun permit—and the list of Floridians who have one is secret. In other words, feel free to lie to your boss, because there’s no way he or she can check it out. The NRA thinks of everything.
Business lobbyists are threatening to go to court and challenge the law, which they say will make the workplace atmosphere more dangerous. They might be right, but danger cuts both ways.
Say a discontented employee runs out to his truck and gets a pistol. Once he stalks back into the stockroom and begins shooting, what do you think is going to happen next? His coworkers will dash out to their own vehicles, grab their own guns, and start firing, too. Somebody’s bound to hit the crazy bastard eventually—and then problem solved!
So, the new gun law was written with built-in checks and balances. It fiercely protects the Second Amendment rights of potential snipers, and also of those unlucky souls who work side by side with them.
May the best shot win.
May 31, 2009
Camping? Don’t Forget to Bring Your Gun
Like many other Americans, every time I take my family to a national park, I find myself thinking: Wow! If I only had a gun …
Now, thanks to Congress and President Obama, all of us will soon be able to carry loaded firearms into national parks and wildlife refuges. Even concealed weapons will be allowed for those who have state permits.
It’s about time. The one element that’s been missing from the outdoor experience in Yellowstone and Yosemite was the adventurous possibility that the drunks at the next campsite might be fooling around with a loaded .357.
Now the thrill is back, and the man to praise is Sen. Tom Coburn, a Republican from Oklahoma and a proud warrior for the National Rifle Association. Even though Oklahoma isn’t famous for its national parks—you’re probably not planning your summer around a trip to the Chickasaw National Recreation Area—Coburn took up the battle on behalf of armed tourists everywhere.
It was those yellow-bellied liberals in the Reagan administration who imposed the current restrictions on guns in federal parklands. Ever since the ’80s, owners have been required to lock or store their weapons in car trunks or glove boxes. That meant everyone entering a national park was essentially stripped of his or her Second Amendment rights for the duration of their visit. (Despite this punitive constraint, attendance mysteriously soared at parks from coast to coast.)
The battle to put loaded guns back in the hands of American vacationers wasn’t easy. Efforts to revoke the Reagan rules fell short even when Congress was controlled by the Republicans and George W. Bush was president. But Coburn and the NRA saw a golden opportunity two weeks ago, as Congress was rushing to rein in credit-card companies that were jacking up interest rates on debt-ridden customers.
The senator slyly attached the controversial parks measure as an amendment to the credit-card reform bill, which he knew was certain to be passed and sent to Obama. The president was pushing to sign it by Memorial Day. Said Coburn, “Timing is everything in politics.” Democratic leaders couldn’t figure out how to separate the gun issue from the credit-card issue and again found themselves outfoxed and outmaneuvered.
Unfortunately, the new firearm rules won’t be in effect this summer, so campers and hikers in national parks still can’t arm themselves with anything stronger than pepper spray or barbecue tongs. That will make domestic disputes a bit more difficult to settle.
However, beginning in February, two great American traditions will return: Not only can park visitors pack heat, they can purchase all the guns and ammo they want on multiple credit cards, without fear of being gouged when they fall behind on the payments.
Critics of the new law, including wildlife officers, say that since hunting is still illegal in national parks, there’s no reason to be roaming around with a loaded weapon unless you’re a poacher. Admittedly, poachers might cheer the Coburn rules because they’ll no longer have to hassle with unlocking their car trunks to grab their rifles, an activity that tends to alert the elk. Instead, poachers can keep their guns handy in the backseat or, more conveniently, on their laps.
Law-abiding citizens have even more compelling reasons to bring firearms to a park. Statistically, you’re far more likely to die from a bee sting than be attacked by a bear or moose, but that doesn’t mean the woods are safe.
Don’t forget the raccoons. Wilderness regions like the Rocky Mountain National Park and Grand Teton produce some gimongous raccoons, and those mothers are absolutely fearless. Given the chance, they’ll swipe every darn Oreo in your backpack. Finally, thanks to Congress, such brazen intruders will soon be staring down the business end of a 20-gauge Remington. Go ahead, varmint, make my day.
Tourists planning a stop at Everglades National Park would likewise be smart to come prepared, because the place is crawling with huge pythons. It’s a veritable infestation, and the new gun law couldn’t have come at a better time.
The problem with shooting at a 20-foot-long snake is that the odds of hitting its tiny brainpan are about 200-to-1. And if you do miss the brain, you risk infuriating the snake. Luckily, no humans have been devoured by any Everglades pythons so far. In fact, there hasn’t been a single attack—but what does that really prove?
All it takes is one rogue reptile that develops a fondness for sunblock, Tevas, and pale human flesh.
Listen to the NRA. There’s no place for naive complacency in the great outdoors, so lock and load, America.
Next summer we can pack our MAC-10s with the marshmallows.
December 10, 2011
Why Some Lawmakers Are in Panic
An absolutely true news item: Having passed a law allowing gun owners to bring their weapons inside the state Capitol building, the Florida Senate has hastily installed panic buttons on the office phone of every senator and staff member.
This is an open letter from concerned members of the Florida House of Representatives to the sergeant of arms:
We couldn’t help but notice that our colleagues in the Senate were provided with enhanced security measures as a result of our controversial—but patriotic!—decision to allow licensed owners of concealed weapons to carry their loaded guns through the corridors of the Capitol.
As everybody knows, the legislation wasn’t our idea. It was written by lobbyists for the National Rifle Association, a fine organization that isn’t nearly as crazed and paranoid as some people make it out to be. Also, the NRA contributes generously to most of our political campaigns, which is why we blindly do whatever it tells us to do.
Up until a few months ago, law-enforcement officers asked all pistol-packing constituents to leave their weapons in a lockbox before entering the Capitol. That system worked pretty darn well, in our humble opinion, but then we learned of the NRA’s desire to further broaden the Second Amendment rights of law-abiding Americans.
So we went ahead and passed this new law that prevents local governments from regulating firearms, except in a few places where the state specifically says guns don’t belong—hospitals, schools, and courthouses.
We’d be fibbing if we said every single member of the House actually read this bill and comprehended all its ramifications. Basically, we took the NRA’s word that it was no biggie. Ever since October 1, anybody with a c
oncealed-weapons permit can bring their favorite pistol to beaches, parks, even public libraries. Most legislators weren’t too worried because, seriously, who the heck still goes to a library? Not us!
Beaches didn’t seem like a problem area, either. Everybody’s wearing bathing suits, so where would you even conceal a weapon? If some guy’s got a .357 sticking out of his Speedo, little kids should have enough common sense not to mess with his sand castle. Right?
Then we come to find out that the new law also allows loaded handguns inside government buildings such as school board headquarters, city halls, county halls, and even the venerable state Capitol here in Tallahassee, where we the undersigned happened to work.
Bearing in mind that citizens occasionally get angry at their politicians, and also bearing in mind that even a normally sober firearms owner can have a bad day, the NRA kindly allowed us to bar gun toters from the legislative chambers and committee rooms, where we conduct the important business of selling out to special interests.
However, the law doesn’t prevent armed voters from freely walking the hallways of the Capitol or visiting the offices of we the undersigned. Consequently, we were intrigued by media reports about the so-called panic buttons that have been given to members of the Senate, even the Democrats who voted against the darn law. Not that we have an inferiority complex, but we who serve in the House are curious to know why our phones weren’t also equipped with emergency devices.
It’s true that there are only 40 state senators while there are 120 representatives. And it’s also true that Florida is in a severe budget crisis and that government needs to shave expenses wherever possible. But seriously, how much money can these stupid little gizmos possibly cost? Don’t we have any pull at Radio Shack?
After consulting the House leadership, we’ve decided to take the high road and assume that the absence of panic buttons isn’t a snub but, rather, the result of clerical oversight or perhaps assembly-line problems at the panic-button factory in Taiwan. This temporary disparity in the level of safety precautions doesn’t mean that the life of a House member is somehow less valued than that of a senator. In truth, all of us in the legislative branch stand equal in the eyes of those who are seeking to buy our favor.
