新视野英语完整教材1-7.doc

Preview Modern communication often pictures guns as the enemy and ignores their changed use. Guns for many years provided food or safety in North America. Now, modern communication repeatedly shows and reports the wrong use of guns in frequent news and entertainment stories. It creates social change when all kinds of minds the sick, the weak, the young, the not-so-mature are influenced by images of lack of responsible gun use. Education in general has failed to control this mind changing communication. As a result, some see guns as a quick, easy, sure solution to negative feelings or problems. Others, wanting to stop this gun problem quickly, think simply removing guns will solve it. What do you think of the problem? Keep the question in mind as you read this unit.Face to Face with Guns Like most city folks, Im cautious. I scan the street and pathways for anything or anyone unusual before pulling into the garage. That night was no exception. But, as I walked out of the garage, KFC chicken in hand, a portly, unshaven young man in a stocking cap and dark nylon jacket emerged from the shrub by the parking pad and put his pistol between my eyes. Give it up, mother , he threatened. Give it up. Hey, I said, just take it. As I spoke, I set the KFC box on the planter beside the pathway, contriving as I did so to toss my house keys into a bush. Wheres your money? Wheres your money? he barked. Everything he said during our encounter was repeated; instinctively, I did the same. Its in my wallet. Its in my wallet, I said. He moved behind me, put his gun on my neck and began to search my trousers pockets. Wheres your wallet? he asked. Its in my back pocket. Wheres the rest of your money? I dont have any more money. Wheres your watch? Here, I replied, extending my left arm sideways. Just then, his partner appeared. Slight and shorter, he held an enlarged blue steel pistol. His dark eyes shone like polished glass; his arms and legs moved unexpectedly, as if attached to unseen wires. His voice snapped, Stop looking at us. Stop looking at us. He wasnt stupid. Ive seen enough criminal trials to know victims of armed attacks are seldom able to identify their offenders because their attention focuses on the guns, rather than on their users. I consciously noted details of their faces. Im not looking at you, I lied as the big one ripped the watch from my wrist. Get down. Get down, the thin one ordered. He grabbed my glasses and tossed them onto the lawn. By then, I was flat on my face on the pathway, its dirt against my forehead. The big ones gun dug into the back of my head, the thin ones pistol into my left temple. I thought, I am going to die. This is going to kill Leslie. Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner. Whats this? the big one asked. I rolled my head to the right. Its KFC chicken, I said. Well take it, the big one snapped. And, suddenly wallet, watch and chicken in hand their footsteps faded down the darkened street. I turned to see their shadows get into a car and speed away. I had been spared, but by what? Mercy? A short attention span? Hunger? How peculiar, I thought, to have your life saved by fried chicken. I saw eternity; they saw food. I got to my feet, found the keys, entered and called 911. The operator took a description of the robbers and sent a police car. I poured a stiff drink and, soon, two uniformed officers of the LAPD arrived. They took a report and admitted the important thing was nobody was hurt. But, one officer said on leaving, taking your chicken, thats rough. Later, an officer telephoned for additional details. He said the pairs methods suggested they might be the same men who had committed a number of robberies in the area over the past few months. He asked me to come to the station and look through mug shots. So, last Monday I looked through album-sized books of pictures mostly of young men an amazing number of them actually children. Turning those pages and studying their photographs is like flowing on a sad current that, like Blakes Thames, seems to mark in every face, marks of weakness, marks of woe. Together, these young men are a kind of river one that is out of control, eating at the foundations of things we hold dear: our freedom to move about; the fruits of