Notes from The Murder Mill: No. 3
Friday, June 9th. The number of people standing for life outside the Greenville Women's Clinic has doubled since last month. There were two or three woke activists there before us, and they fired up a scratchy speaker as soon as we arrived. Crowded close together, we sang the usual psalms and hymns. But it was unusual, because for the first time, we actually drowned out the noise. At one point, all I could hear was the beat, and it happened to lend itself very well to our song. Shortly, the opposers realized that their current tactic had been overcome, so they pulled out some gear that was so rude it was ridiculous: long, plastic horns, which were very loud and sounded like they were dying. They walked around our group with these noisy devices for the half hour we were out there. Sometimes, one would stop and aim the noise directly at the back of a singer's head for a moment or two. It didn't matter if they were an adult or a child. One of the activists, a man I'll ...