Cornell Pitts got the death penalty for what he did to that girl and her momma. Can’t say I disagree with the verdict. According to my interpretation of the Good Book, payment for one’s loss shall be in kind. The girl’s papa has right to recourse, but the thing is, I’m at a loss as to how Cornell Pitts can pay for two when his entire value, his chit-in-hand between him and God, is but one. Ain’t none of us get more than that, though our debts tend to far exceed our value. What must it be like for the Almighty to carry such a deficit on our behalf? How much debt from how many souls has He forgiven and thereby assumed? Don’t for a second think it all just up and vanishes, that the burdens of our debts never mount, that payment won’t become due at some point. I suspect He is about fed up. To kill is to kill. It’s about as simple as that. But I suspect the Almighty would just as soon cut His losses and move on, if He hasn’t already.
Here we have a man like Cornell Pitts, whose own disregard of consequences makes it easy for him to do what he done. It wasn’t about whether or not he might end up dead at the bestowment of justice, because that didn’t never cross his mind, of that I am sure. He didn’t think about whether or not what he was doing was wrong. No sir, he didn’t think about none of that. Only thing on his mind was his own self and he didn’t value nothing but his own gratification. The thing is, it’s how we all feel at one point or another. We want to be amused, we want to feel good, and on occasion to reach that end, we want to assert our dominance over another individual. It’s the degree and matter and guilt associated with such dominance that varies among us. It is easy to waive off a surplus of guilt, to charge it against future debt already assumed lock and stock by the Almighty.
In the execution compound they got a large room with hanger racks and wall mounted hooks full up with all variety of costume. They got diamond clowns and polka dot clowns and striped clowns of all height and girth. They got tropical birds and exotic animals as well as common farm stock, like cows and horses and giant roosters. Off the main room they got a second room with sit-down vanities and light-up mirrors so they can match wig and hat and make-up to whatever costume selected. Cornell Pitts and those in line for the day's festivities get to wander around this large room and pick what they will wear. Some prefer to pair up and share two halves of a giraffe costume or a hippo costume. They tell each other it's to add variety to the show, but what they want is to not walk the line alone.
It’s all in good fun. Cornell Pitts and his kind don’t mind the laughter and the ridicule and the carnival atmosphere. This is the one time in their whole life when they matter, even if it is at their own expense. They get to dress up as clowns and animals and general circus folk and march down a path in front of a crowd of people cheering and pointing and whistling and laughing. Yes, all in good fun. Folks in the crowd don’t think about whether or not what they’re doing is wrong. Rather they say, “Y’all broke the laws of society so society can do whatever it wants, and here we want hanging day to be one of easy swallowing, so we turn y’all into spoonfuls of sugar and find great amusement in your appearance, in your silly costumes and painted faces.” Cornell Pitts and his kind get into the spirit of things, get into character, and pretty soon no-one remembers why they’re there, not those in the crowd nor those in costume, until the trap doors fall and the truncation of last breath puts an end to the show.
Here we have a man like Cornell Pitts, whose own disregard of consequences makes it easy for him to do what he done. It wasn’t about whether or not he might end up dead at the bestowment of justice, because that didn’t never cross his mind, of that I am sure. He didn’t think about whether or not what he was doing was wrong. No sir, he didn’t think about none of that. Only thing on his mind was his own self and he didn’t value nothing but his own gratification. The thing is, it’s how we all feel at one point or another. We want to be amused, we want to feel good, and on occasion to reach that end, we want to assert our dominance over another individual. It’s the degree and matter and guilt associated with such dominance that varies among us. It is easy to waive off a surplus of guilt, to charge it against future debt already assumed lock and stock by the Almighty.
In the execution compound they got a large room with hanger racks and wall mounted hooks full up with all variety of costume. They got diamond clowns and polka dot clowns and striped clowns of all height and girth. They got tropical birds and exotic animals as well as common farm stock, like cows and horses and giant roosters. Off the main room they got a second room with sit-down vanities and light-up mirrors so they can match wig and hat and make-up to whatever costume selected. Cornell Pitts and those in line for the day's festivities get to wander around this large room and pick what they will wear. Some prefer to pair up and share two halves of a giraffe costume or a hippo costume. They tell each other it's to add variety to the show, but what they want is to not walk the line alone.
It’s all in good fun. Cornell Pitts and his kind don’t mind the laughter and the ridicule and the carnival atmosphere. This is the one time in their whole life when they matter, even if it is at their own expense. They get to dress up as clowns and animals and general circus folk and march down a path in front of a crowd of people cheering and pointing and whistling and laughing. Yes, all in good fun. Folks in the crowd don’t think about whether or not what they’re doing is wrong. Rather they say, “Y’all broke the laws of society so society can do whatever it wants, and here we want hanging day to be one of easy swallowing, so we turn y’all into spoonfuls of sugar and find great amusement in your appearance, in your silly costumes and painted faces.” Cornell Pitts and his kind get into the spirit of things, get into character, and pretty soon no-one remembers why they’re there, not those in the crowd nor those in costume, until the trap doors fall and the truncation of last breath puts an end to the show.
