Ah, so it’s Bush’s fault?
Ok, hopefully this end’s the speculation about the Islamist connection. The perp was an English major, after all.
Stop that. You know it is some kind of reference to Islam. And even if it isn’t, it oughtta be.
If he was an English major, why would he spell Ishmael as Ismail?
other things he wrote - the “disturbed” stuff his professor described - release that, and we’ll know what this guy is all about.
if its buried, then we’ll know what is being covered up.
Or.....he could just be crazy.....
Seems more probable.
Moby Dick...
Opening line - “Call me Ishmael
CHAPTER 17
The Ramadan
As Queequeg’s Ramadan, or Fasting and Humiliation, was to continue all day, I did not choose to disturb him till towards night-fall; for I cherish the greatest respect towards everybody’s religious obligations, never mind how comical, and could not find it in my heart to undervalue even a congregation of ants worshipping a toad-stool; or those other creatures in certain parts of our earth, who with a degree of footmanism quite unprecedented in other planets, bow down before the torso of a deceased landed proprietor merely on account of the inordinate possessions yet owned and rented in his name.
I say, we good Presbyterian Christians should be charitable in these things, and not fancy ourselves so vastly superior to other mortals, pagans and what not, because of their half-crazy conceits on these subjects. There was Queequeg, now, certainly entertaining the most absurd notions about Yojo and his Ramadan;—but what of that? Queequeg thought he knew what he was about, I suppose; he seemed to be content; and there let him rest. All our arguing with him would not avail; let him be, I say: and Heaven have mercy on us all—Presbyterians and Pagans alike—for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending.
Towards evening, when I felt assured that all his performances and rituals must be over, I went to his room and knocked at the door; but no answer. I tried to open it, but it was fastened inside. “Queequeg,” said I softly through the key-hole:—all silent. “I say, Queequeg! why don’t you speak? It’s I—Ishmael.” But all remained still as before. I began to grow alarmed. I had allowed him such abundant time; I thought he might have had an apoplectic fit. I looked through the key-hole; but the door opening into an odd corner of the room, the key-hole prospect was but a crooked and sinister one. I could only see part of the foot-board of the bed and a line of the wall, but nothing more. I was surprised to behold resting against the wall the wooden shaft of Queequeg’s harpoon, which the landlady the evening previous had taken from him, before our mounting to the chamber. That’s strange, thought I; but at any rate, since the harpoon stands yonder, and he seldom or never goes abroad without it, therefore he must be inside here, and no possible mistake.
“Queequeg!—Queequeg!”—all still. Something must have happened. Apoplexy! I tried to burst open the door; but it stubbornly resisted. Running down stairs, I quickly stated my suspicions to the first person I met—the chamber-maid. “La! la!” she cried, “I thought something must the matter. I went to make the bed after breakfast, and the door was locked; and not a mouse to be heard; and it’s been just so silent ever since. But I thought, may be, you had both gone off and locked your baggage in for safe keeping. La! la, ma’am!—Mistress! murder! Mrs. Hussey! apoplexy!”—and with these cries she ran towards the kitchen, I following.
Mrs. Hussey soon appeared, with a mustard-pot in one hand and a vinegar-cruet in the other, having just broken away from the occupation of attending to the castors, and scolding her little black boy meantime.
“Wood-house!” cried I, “which way to it? Run for God’s sake, and fetch something to pry open the door—the axe!—the axe! he’s had a stroke; depend upon it!”—and so saying I was unmethodically rushing up stairs again empty-handed, when Mrs. Hussey interposed the mustard-pot and vinegar-cruet, and the entire castor of her countenance.
“What’s the matter with you, young man?”
“Get the axe! For God’s sake, run for the doctor, some one, while I pry it open!”
Note to self: Before I go on a murderous rampage, remember to scrawl many inane words on different parts of my body to keep Freepers speculating about my motives.
Or he could have just been nuts...
Judaism has generally viewed Ishmael as wicked though repentant.[1] Islamic tradition, however, has a very positive view of Ishmael, ascribing a larger role to Ishmael in comparison to the Bible and viewing him as a prophet and the son of sacrifice (according to certain early theologians whose ideas prevailed later).[1][2] The Bahá'àwritings consider him a lesser prophet.
Both Jewish and Islamic traditions consider Ishmael as the ancestor of Arab people.[1]
We’ll have to “ax” him in the future........
Are people really so skeptical of the possibility that a sympathy with Islam (especially since he apparently rails on in his note about degeneracy and materialism) figured into at least part of Cho’s motivation, that they are now seriously trying to suggest that James Fenimore Cooper or Herman Melville was the motivation for the words he had written on his arm prior to going and committing mass murder? Absurdly far-fetched, IMO.
3254: AMERICAN LITERATURE BEFORE 1900
This course presents American literature from before 1900 in its representative modes and defining contexts, including colonization, the founding of the republic, the Civil War, the settlement of the west, American Romanticism, and American Realism. Specific authors and texts will vary, but will include poetry and fictional and non-fictional prose. Pre: 1106 or H1204 or COMM 1016. (3H,3C)
I think you are correct!
I just heard on the news that the shooter’s fingerprints do not match those of any students.
if he was an English major, just look up what classes he took recently and see what he had to read. You’ll find the allusion there (probably drilled into his head by some “impressive” and/or bloviating lit/crit/$hit lecture). And check out what he wrote papers on.
Who knows? Cho was insane. Who can tell what kinds of weird obsessioins ran through his sick mind?
With the Columbine kids it was Goth stuff. With this kid, it could have been the new fad of Islam, or he might have been obsessed with literary symbols of American literature.
We will never really know.