I recently touched on the tragic incident in Colorado,co where some deranged young adult opened fire in a movie theatre. First, if all the good guys carried weapons, they would have not only known how to use their guns safely and prudently, but when to use their guns. Therefore, a free-for-all firestorm would not have ensued. Second, I questioned why, even without all the good guys carrying, why didn’t anyone step in to stop said bad guy? Why were the identified 70 rounds fired? Why did no one stop this crazy quantity?
Are we so paralyzed by hurting someone’s feelings or infringing on someone’s invented rights to carry on however they desire that we forget about decency and lending ourselves to the common good? Are we so thoroughly desensitized to bloodshed that we watch the actions of the bad guy unfold before our eyes, slack jawed, as if this is now the movie? Why didn’t anyone try and stop the bad guy?
The other week, I went to a Subway Sandwich to get, well, a sandwich. This by no means, constitutes an upscale eatery, but it is also not our private dining rooms at home. There sat an individual, taking a cell phone call, speaking raucously and at top volume as if he sat in his own home. I do not understand how people can think using their cell phones in public is ok. Have we stooped so low as to think we are that important, that using the phone makes us appear that important, that we take all calls, in all places, no matter what? Do we think, since we own our phones as personal property, we can use them anywhere and at any time? Please. Well, in this case, I got pretty fed up with being afraid: afraid the guy might shove his phone down my throat, afraid the guy might clobber me, afraid the guy might start screaming at me. We are WAY too conditioned to not step in, is my point. In my moment of “officer presence”, I put on my really cordial smile and got right up into his megaphone blasting phone conversation. I held one index finger up to my lips whispering, “shhhhh,” and with the other hand, I gently patted the air down as if to say, “lower your voice.” He got it. All he needed was for someone to step in and quit being a chicken shit. He lowered his voice. That sandwich tasted really good.