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"Johnson is the master of the blow-the-MF-away genre, the man who chronicled our lethal addiction to self-destructive violence and the total devaluation of the human organism in a tsunami of narcissism and childish worship of guns."--John D. Rachel

For Russ, still a friend after all these years

The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it. --Albert Einstein

Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called sons of God.--Matthew 5:9

Chapter One

Death does not become a child. Small caskets are not cute nor quaint like handmade collectible dolls, adorned with frilly lace dresses, neatly arranged in a display cabinet behind a protective glass barrier, preserved memories of wide eyed innocence, meticulously painted by a craftsman's careful hand, artificially simulating life with a p√Ęte mix of skin tone colors, cotton stitches and plastic fibered hair. No. A corpse that never had a chance to fully mature in life does not, in spite of its size, generate a feeling of nostalgia nor delicate quaintness, even though the coffin that contains it might be lined with the finest silk and surrounded by the most lavish floral arrangement that money can buy.

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