The American Spectator

Reader Mail

Count Hillary

3.2.06 @ 12:01AM

(Page 2 of 4)

4 Their appearance is that of horses; like steeds they run.

5 As with the rumble of chariots they leap on the mountaintops; As with the crackling of a fiery flame devouring stubble; Like a mighty people arrayed for battle.

6 Before them peoples are in torment, every face blanches.

7 Like warriors they run, like soldiers they scale the wall; They advance, each in his own lane, without swerving from their paths.

8 No one crowds another, each advances in his own track; Though they fall into the ditches, they are not checked.

9 They assault the city, they run upon the wall, they climb into the houses; In at the windows they come like thieves.

10 Before them the earth trembles, the heavens shake; The sun and the moon are darkened, and the stars withhold their brightness.

11 The LORD raises his voice at the head of his army; For immense indeed is his camp, yes, mighty, and it does his bidding. For great is the day of the LORD, and exceedingly terrible; who can bear it?

Either these are the Last Days, or the Church has gone stark, staring mad. In any event, I'm finished with the Anglican Church.
-- Kate Shaw
Toronto, Ontario

DELIVERY STRATEGIES
Re: Paul Chesser's Working the Wrong Side of the Road:

Back in a more innocent time, 1980, as a 13-year-old I delivered the Richmond Times-Dispatch. I still can't believe I did it or that it was acceptable back then for children to do so. Consider: the only people out and about at 5 a.m. in a city are a few joggers, a few police, paperboys (we still called them that back in that innocent time), winos, weirdoes, and criminals.

It was not without incident. Several times I had my Sunday editions stolen for sale at impromptu downtown newsstands. Once while collecting money I ran into neighborhood ruffians who harassed me more for sport than money. Another time I was bitten by a dog. However, the most memorable day was when I arrived at the drop-off spot to find, instead of the newspapers to be delivered, a smoldering ash heap along with the smell of gasoline. Apparently deranged nuts of some sort had decided, for whatever reason, to light a bonfire. And this was in a "good" neighborhood!

Also, let it not go without mentioning that while the postal carrier glamour boys get to claim that neither snow, nor rain, nor blah, blah, blah keep them from their appointed rounds, the paper carriers really mean it. Nothing stops their delivery, not even weekends or federal holidays. Which, of course, is yet another example of the private sector outperforming the public sector -- even if they have to wait for their employees, excuse me, independent contractors, to turn twelve before awarding them the work.
-- R. Trotter
Arlington, Virginia

None of the rural postal carriers in my area have steering wheels on the right, but they sit on the right and drive across the car. Of course since they stop at almost all boxes they drive on the shoulder most of the time and it is daylight.
-- Elaine Kyle

Mr. Chesser makes many important points regarding both safe driving and newspaper business hypocracy [sic]; but I'm not writing about that.

I was surprised to see that he is an "editor" (as well as obviously a columnist), since by the end of the article where I saw his "bio" line I was still not quite through cringing at his use of "could care less."

Letter to the Editor

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