For All The People To See!

For All The People To See!

Commentary by: Bill the Butcher

Is there anything obscener than the murder of a baby? There is so much murder, obscenity, and immorality in the world today that it becomes hard to rank them all from one to ten, and it makes one realize the need for a number eleven. The worth of a baby is beyond calculation. The reckless murder of a baby is beyond understanding. Some things we shouldn’t even try to understand. For if we understand such things, it means that we are as insane as the world. Unlike the Doors song the children are not insane . . . WE are! We are insane for even having a situation like this to exist, and certainly not a children’s daycare.

Last week four babies in a New York Daycare, that’s spelled D.a.y.c.a.r.e. were sickened by exposure to Fentanyl. They didn’t take Fentanyl. They didn’t accidentally ingest Fentanyl. They were “exposed” to it. Breathed the fumes while napping after lunch because the owners were using their napping area for storage of bricks of the drug for later distribution to various pushers in New York. They couldn’t even lock it away.

Fentanyl is so potent that one such brick could kill the United States. There was a manufacturing setup in the daycare to package, press pills, and ship this stuff to the waiting population crazy enough to take it. One baby died. How much is one baby worth? A baby with parents who scraped to put him in what they thought was a safe place. And not a safe place where some college student runs to when they need to avoid reality. Or when someone calls them by the wrong pronoun. A place to nap after lunch. And for one a nap from which he will never wake. A dirt nap. A nap meant for old folks. If the elderly die thusly everyone says, “Peacefully in their sleep,” but there is no peace to be found in the broken promise of a life not lived. And now a funeral for which the family had no plans for. Diaper money for a casket. A very small casket. They lay babies on their side because the traditional position on the back with the left shoulder slightly elevated looks unnatural. All sleeping babies curl up. More natural that way.

Now do you understand the millstone, and the depth of the sea? Where such a person gets to enjoy the same water pressure as the Titanic? Now do you finally understand “obscenity?” Woe unto you, America, for you have committed a great sin in the eyes of God. War on drugs? We’ve lost the war on drugs, and our fallen are our children. Children of all ages. From the New York baby to the Native American teen in Arizona. We have politicized their safety and argued semantics while the bell tolls. And for whom does the bell toll? As Hemingway so aptly put it . . . the bell tolls for thee! You and me. The enablers of the drug culture that invented Fentanyl.

So, debate the wall. Analyze rights of the accused. Legalize whatever you want. That baby is not coming back. Those broken hearts in that New York family will never heal. And those pushers will never stop counting money until we stop them!

We need to put the Capital back in murder. We need to make that baby’s life count for something. Pull down all the statues if you will but put a statue of this baby up. And make the manufacture and distribution of Fentanyl a capital offense from which there is no return. One quick appeal if you must, but execution within thirty days. By lethal injection. And don’t worry about drug companies that won’t sell the needed ingredients to carry the execution out. Just use Fentanyl. And make it a public execution. For all the people to see!

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