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In London, two thugs named Daniel-Lance Samuels and Jack Turner, for no reason, just for kicks, attacked a young off-duty police officer, Daniel Coffill, kicking his head in and damaging his brain, leaving him in a persistent vegetative state in which he must be cared for by his parents 24 hours a day. The criminals were sentenced to a measely eight and nine years in jail, and now a judge has , two thugs named Daniel-Lance Samuels and Jack Turner, for no reason, just for kicks, attacked a young off-duty police officer, Daniel Coffill, kicking his head in and damaging his brain, leaving him in a persistent vegetative state in which he must be cared for by his parents 24 hours a day. The criminals were sentenced to a measely eight and nine years in jail, and now a judge has reduced the sentences by two years apiece because the sentences were “excessive.” So the perpetrators each get approximately a six year sentence, with good behavior down to three years, for turning a 23-year-old man into a vegetable, for destroying his life, for preventing him from ever marrying and having children, for ruining the lives of his parents, and all for nothing, for a whim, for a cruel impulse to hurt and destroy. Where are the troubadours, where are the Bob Dylans, who will sing about this injustice? Who will write a version of “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” for Daniel Coffill and his parents? Who will rouse society’s indignation over the casual savagery that Britain’s nonjudgmental culture and justice system have unleashed on innocents? Why do the protest singers only protest when it’s a non-white who is harmed, and a rich or powerful white who has done the harm? How many deaths of whites will it take before we know that too many people have died? Who will enflame the people’s burning moral rage against liberalism? THE LONESOME DEATH OF HATTIE CARROLL William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll

With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger

At a Baltimore hotel society gatherin’

And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him

As they rode him in custody down to the station

And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.

But you who philosophize disgrace

And criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain’t the time for your tears. William Zanzinger, who has twenty-four years

Owns a tobacco farm with six hundred acres

With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him

And high office relations in the politics of Maryland,

Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders

And swear words and sneering, in his tongue it was a’ snarling,

In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.

But you who philosophize disgrace

And criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain’t the time for your tears. Hattie Carroll was a maid in the kitchen.

She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children

Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage

And never sat once at the head of the table

And didn’t even talk to the people at the table

But just cleaned up all the food from the table

And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level

Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane

That sailed through the air and came down through the room

Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle

And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger.

But you who philosophize disgrace

And criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain’t the time for your tears. In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel

To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level

And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded

And that even the nobles get properly handled

Once that the cops have chased after and caught ‘em

And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom

Stared at the person who killed for no reason

Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’

And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished

And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance

William Zanzinger, with a six-month sentence.

Ah, but you who philosophize disgrace

And criticize all fears,

Bury the rag deep in your face

For now’s the time for your tears. (Words and Music by Bob Dylan)

1964, 1966 Warner Bros. Inc;

Renewed 1992 Special Rider Music - end of initial entry - Jonathan L. writes: The same exact phrase, “‘Clockwork Orange’ Nation,” occurred to me several years ago when for the second time I read about teenage boys breaking into a pensioner’s home in London and proceeding to torture him to death. No theft was involved in either incident. Amazing how only 50 years of paternalist government (whether of the Labor or Conservative stripe) has so completely demoralized and barbarized one of the most solid and admirable native working class populations in the entire West.



Posted by Lawrence Auster at March 15, 2007 06:49 PM | Send





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