Meeting a real life monster

Ray Mosby

ROLLING FORK—Along with my co-worker and friend Natalie Perkins, I had the honor last Friday to sit on a symposium at Millsaps College with the other respective recipients of the Bill Minor awards for investigative reporting and general news writing. Considering the exalted company, that experience gave me all new insight into George Gobel’s famous line: “Have you ever felt like the whole world is a tuxedo and you are a pair of brown shoes?”
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We are a changed people

Ray Mosby

What was on that Monday now 16 years ago, a handful of fanatical thugs flew hijacked American airplanes into American buildings and what both we and rest of the world had always thought of as America almost immediately changed.
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Think man’s higher species?

Ray Mosby

As I write this, I am not in the loftiest of moods, so to expect a lot is probably setting yourself up for disappointment.
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What in the world is the matter with us?

Ray Mosby

I seem to spend a lot of time these days screaming at screens. I realize that is not a good indication of mental health, but be they computer screens or TV screens, what I see on both is so self-defeating, so infuriating, so frustrating, that I can’t help (not unlike good ole Howard Beal in “Network,”) blurting it out: “What’s the matter with you people?”
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Before the end of innocence

Ray Mosby

It was many and many a year ago in a wonderland by a tree. A six-year-old white boy was making good use of the tire swing his grandfather had put up for him in a stately old tree in the front yard when a black girl, aged eight or nine, wandered down the sidewalk on her way to and from nowhere in particular.
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Something wicked has arrived

Ray Mosby

“Fascism is like a hydra—you can cut off its head in the Germany of the ‘30s and ‘40s, but it will still turn up on your back doorstep in a slightly altered guise.”—Alan Moore
It is a phrase first coined by Shakespeare in “Macbeth,” then it later became the title of a dark fantasy novel by the great Ray Bradbury: “Something Wicked This Way Comes.”
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Last act of a maverick?

Ray Mosby

Perhaps old soldiers never die until they do.

If I had good sense I would have gone to bed last Thursday night. I was tired. I had to go to work the next morning. But the thing is, I had a hunch, what my dear ole mammy would have called my “shine,” and I have learned to trust them over the years, so I just couldn’t. 

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Now in tombstone territory

Ray Mosby

ROLLING FORK— Upon my desk sits a most distinctive coffee cup, brought to me as a gift by a  dear friend now over a decade ago, after a driving tour out west. On it is depicted the story of The Tombstone Epitaph, the Old West’s most famous newspaper.
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Fathers, brothers and sons

Ray Mosby

MEMPHIS (Tenn.)— One of the things I am most proud of, take the most satisfaction from, occurred 15 years ago this week, and like a lot of things that really matter, was noticed by practically no one.
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On judging books by covers

Ray Mosby

Until the bizarre little guy who apparently makes daily life a living hell for everyone except his family (the members of which he doesn’t have killed, that is) in North Korea moved up several notches on the nuts with nukes nightmare hierarchy, there was pretty much unanimous agreement that Iran was at the top of that potential radicals with radiation rating.
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