n1ywb
November 3rd, 2008, 18:31
Kyle dodged and wheeled, and heard a cry: his brother, just behind him, had been struck. Next, someone clobbered Kyle, who drew a knife, but didn’t have a chance to use it. “I felt a pistol put to my head,” he said. Grazed by a bullet, he fell. When he rose, he drew his own pistol, hidden in his pocket. He spied his brother lying in the street. Someone else fired a shot, hitting Kyle in the arm. A man carrying a musket rushed at him. Another threw a brick, knocking him off his feet. George Kyle picked himself up and ran. He never did cast his vote. Nor did his brother, who died of his wounds.
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/10/13/081013fa_fact_lepore
Sort of puts things in perspective.
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/10/13/081013fa_fact_lepore
Sort of puts things in perspective.