Disgusted by Dan
I was appalled at Dan Smith's columns where he accused people on the food stamp program of being lazy and dishonest. I was angered when he blamed gun violence on working women. I am now sad and disgusted after reading his column on the Zimmerman trial. Despite his promise to stop writing about social and political issues, Mr. Smith does it again. I suggest the name of his column be changed from Land Lines to Land Mines because he has stepped on one again.
In the alternate universe where Dan Smith's logic resides, Mr. Zimmerman didn't deserve to be on trial. A man who stalks another person, disregards police instructions to not follow or engage, acts like a police officer without the authority and uses deadly force on another human being shouldn't stand trial for his actions. What were Trayvon Martin's actions that this wannabe cop found so suspicious? Was it the Skittles? The can of ice tea? The cell phone? Or maybe it was the color of his skin that made him a target for this vigilante thug hiding his illegal actions in the Community Watch.
Dan Smith, in, " The Good Old Boy," fashion, plays the white race card very effectively. He mentions Al Sharpton, Jessie Jackson and President Obama, then writes about crimes committed by blacks against white people knowing it will provoke the proper emotional response.
Mr. Smith claims, "Zimmerman's trial reveals an ugly truth." He is right, from Emitt Till, Medgar Evers to Trayvon Martin, it reveals the truth about Southern Society. A white person can murder an innocent black man and be acquitted by white juries. Move on and forget it. No Mr. Smith, not this time.
Let me save Dan Smith the trouble of speculating in his next column. I am white.
James M. Doumas, Port Orange
A Concrete Case
In the fall of 1976, this writer was playing on a semi-pro football team in Brooklyn, NYC. We were in a "rough touch" league in Bay Ridge, played on a concrete field. I was the quarterback and one snap went over my head ... rolling along the concrete ... a "live ball" that could be recovered by the opposing team. So, I ran after it and as I cradled it on the ground, a horde of defenders arrived and jumped on me. My bare head hit the ground and I was knocked unconscious ... for but a few seconds they told me afterwards. Yet, when I came to, I did not know where I was or what day it was. So, they rushed me to a hospital and it was ascertained I had a concussion.
Fast-forward nearly 37 years later to Sanford. A man alleges, because there are no eyewitnesses, that he was on the ground, being pummeled by a 17-year-old skinny kid, who was bashing his head into the concrete ... repeatedly! He thus felt, so he said, that he was losing consciousness and feared for his life. You know the rest: The skinny 17 year old kid lay dead, and George Zimmerman was soon allowed by the police to go home. Wait! Surely the medic on the scene, after hearing George's tale of being "at death's door" due to the concrete bashing of his head, sent him to the hospital for tests. Brain and skull damages are no laughing matter. Anyone, having that happen to them, would want to go and get his or her head examined, yes? Not our neighborhood watch hero. No, he went ... home!
Without such an alibi, methinks that no jury of honest citizens would find for an acquittal. How could they? The facts were as they were presented: Zimmerman followed the youth when he was advised not to do so. Zimmerman had a loaded gun on his hip ... the kid had snacks. They met somewhere on the rainy grass, had a confrontation, Zimmerman got his nose punched, they scuffled and he fired one deadly shot.
In my hometown of Brooklyn, NYC, there were countless fistfights each and every day throughout the borough ... usually with two guys using bare knuckles with no guns. Fistfights are as old as mankind for goodness sakes! However, when one of the participants brings a lethal weapon into the mix, it is called assault where I come from ... and, in Zimmerman's case, manslaughter!
Philip A Farruggio, Port Orange