Ransoms Must Be Paid
Laci And Saddam Held Hostage In Denmark
January 28, 2003
It’s funny how things change through the years but they always stay the same. Certainly humanity has evolved since Shakespeare’s Hamlet opened in London at the Globe Theater in 1600…or has it?
As Saddam Hussein blusters and froths from inside one of his 57 palaces and Laci Peterson lingers in “God knows where”, the dynamics of Elsinore Castle remain unchanged for over 400 years.
Elsinore Castle, in reality Kronborg Castle, the reputed setting for Shakespeare’s Hamlet, sits in Helsingor Denmark on the Danish Riviera. Elsinore is no ordinary castle. It is the womb of intrigue and duplicity. Ian Johnston notes that, “We can easily acknowledge that Elsinore is a very political place, in a very Machiavellian sense. In this court, we are in a political realm based on duplicity, power, and fear, and the outcome of the political actions is serious: the security of the kingdom.” And somewhere in the murky dungeons of this castle the fates of both Laci Peterson and Saddam Hussein are held hostage.
As the euphemistic protagonists await outcomes over which they have no control, the antagonists in the upstairs banquet hall are feasting to gluttony.
With as many faces as prisms on a crystal, the royalty of the media are gourmandizing at the table of their French hosts. As the feast progresses from appetizers to main course, the French bemoan the barbaric nature of President Bush and vouchsafe to discourage America from initiating an unnecessary war while CNN et al cry bowlfuls of crocodile-tear soup over the disappearance of the poignant Ms. Peterson. Oh how awful!
And how awful it must be. With billions of dollars in consummated oil deals with Iraq at stake, the always-present noblesse oblige of the French demands a concern for world peace. A noblesse oblige that doesn’t care a hoot for the security and welfare of the American people.
After all, the French and Russians, in consort with their old WW II antagonist, Germany, all have billions of dollars of commercial transactions at stake in Iraq. And, like the old days preceding WW II, the French will appease any tyrant with the certain knowledge that their American sluts will bail them out of catastrophes born from their own greed-driven cowardice.
As Paris burns, our Russian buddies remain constant in their proclivity for playing all sides to their advantage until another Barbarossa wakes them from their jingoistic apathy. And all the while, our bellicose little Huns keep pressing the attack hoping to defy reality and avoid another debacle like Hitler’s brilliant Wacht am Rhein offensive in the Ardennes. Oh how these countries bulge as they stuff their bellies on the miseries of the United States.
As the gourmands marvel at the skillful carving of the les miserable carcass, Laci and Saddam can be faintly heard squabbling for an alpha position below the salt. “Howe horrwible,” bemoans Ms. Barbara Wahwah. “Eh what is soo désolant,” inquires a cheeky French President Jacques Chirac. “Oh Jacques, those kwaies frum the dungeon are interwuppting my feast.”
According to the FBI, over a million people in America “go missing” each year. On the morning of November 12th, 1993 43-year-old Jane McDonald-Crone left her home in Magnolia Texas and headed to work. She was never seen again and, not surprisingly, never mentioned in the national press. There was nothing about poor Jane that might give CNN an edge on the Super Bowl in the television ratings game.
As unfortunate as the unknown fate of Laci Peterson might be (and it is truly unfortunate), the media concern for her welfare is shamelessly two-faced. The Laci Peterson tragedy is little more than a story to those who are covering it ad nauseum. Peterson’s tragedy has all of the qualities of a soap opera. It is a saga with entertainment richness. Smart money is betting that the screenplay of its made-for-television movie rendition is just short of final editing while it awaits a conclusion.
Laci Peterson is rapidly transforming from flesh and bones to a reality television orgy. It is journalistic debauchery. Those who might maintain that their coverage of the story is a proactive participation to help find her might consider the morality of economically based triage. Those who can pay may live and those who can’t may die. Those who can get Nielsen ratings get coverage and the other million missing persons fade into obscurity.
Once the Peterson story loses its “legs”, Laci will fade into the fog-shrouded moors of insignificance. Once our so-called allies either extort a richer reward for themselves from the United States or realize that the train is leaving the station without them, they will jump the fence and join the war on terrorism. Neither of these human tragedies are the pretty pictures the antagonists are producing. Tragedy in self-serving hands becomes duplicitous farce.
Much has changed since Hamlet debuted in 1600, but human nature hasn’t. The only difference is that the farce is now acted-out on the stage of worldwide television.
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