In 1995 I was in Mansfield, Ohio on a business trip. Being stuck in a hotel for a week, I got bored and found a CD store down the street. I went in, looking to buy a copy of the newly released greatest hits of Bruce Springsteen, which I knew had come out that week. I walked around, saw no sign of it, and asked the guy behind the counter if they had it.
“Sure.” And he led me to the rear of the store, where a large cardboard stand-up display of the Boss resided.
I asked him why it seemed to be hidden in the back of the place.
“Well, he cheated on his wife with his singer, got some folks around here upset.”
I bought the CD and left, understanding for the first time the phrase “You ain’t from around here, are ya?”
Ohio ranks about mid-way among states as to churchgoers at 43% of the population. So when I read the following story, I wondered. Are the monsters that did this going to attend Wednesday night services, reeking of gasoline?
Eight horses burned to death in barn fire in apparent anti-gay hate crime attack in Ohio
Eight horses – one just a week old and another ready to give birth – died in a raging barn fire in Ohio that lawmen think was set because of hatred for gays.
Brent Whitehouse of McConnelsville said an orange glow outside his home on Easter night drew him to the horror.
Somewhere in Ohio sits a man, or men, who decided to celebrate Easter Sunday by murdering innocent animals because they insanely believed that homosexuality somehow has something to do with them. But those of us who don’t think that way, we probably aren’t gripped by the sort of religious mania that these cretins most likely bath in. Most people- most decent, sane people- understand that a person’s private life is just that- private.(And if this turns out to have been a crime committed by people not of faith, I apologize. But I doubt it.)
I don’t believe in capital punishment in any way, shape or form. The state has no business murdering itself, no matter the reason. So if these guys get arrested and convicted, life in jail. Be interesting to see how they find the sleeping arrangements.
But I say this. I have no plans to ever enter Ohio again (once is certainly enough), but if I do, and I ever have occasion to find myself among the lowest scum of the state and meet these people, I have a plan. I’ll find a wooden packing crate, fit them with this, and toss in a match.
See, I love horses. I love gays. I loathe homophobes.
Who’s with me?