Pool_2

Not everybody can cope with frustration. This carpenter had spent four years while correspondences were slighted, brushed aside, or blinked away. Four years for what? Not even a trapping of legal mediation, review, factual presentation or appeal - process - just new exits to leave. And now the leash was broken, a heartbroken Da was spiritually dead. No, the carpenter wasn't here to fix woodwork. He was here to repair the fouled teeth of a clockwork that refused to turn. Our haughty officer did not see himself as he was seen, a defect, an impediment to movement, to be removed. In practiced arrogance, he didn't look up when he just issued flipping wrist gestures over his head, that spoke, go away. Gesture or words, what should a man in his position have said to the tawny muscled laborer standing before him girdled in a belt sagging with heavy objects? I don't know. But, this wasn't it. A hammer driven through his condescending skull was his only notice of error. There were others in that facility. In various parts of in this reworked almost medieval stone building, SS types, local militia zealot followers of Ian Paisley, not too unlike Klu Klux Klaners in the States. They were supplied in a steady stream from the ranks of the regional UCDC, UDA, UPA, UPV, UVF, RUC, Jesus, more juggling of letters than plain folk could absorb. At least the KKK sticks to a single name. The IRA is just the IRA. But these guys, armed to the teeth, with names sprouting like the heads of Hydra, were ever ready to parade spite and hate down any neighborhood street to undermine any attempt at conciliation lest the requirement of peace lead to one man one vote and a real census, which is all that was being asked. Men of storm trooper mentality, here under direction of the Ulster Police, were each in turn greeted with the cordiality of tempered steel. Arrogance is stiff but yields to an axe. One screaming jailer, minus a foot, was trying to plea that he had children. That