35.
   In a rage, Raymond raised up on his haunches high above us. He stomped the ground and pounded it with his tail. We sat down before him in humbled awe. We were school children and our master was caught up in his lesson.

   “You must do something about this state sponsored terrorism!” He lowered his enormous snout down to our quivering little faces framed with strained smiles. “Is this the America you love and cherish?” He marched up and down before us on his hind legs, his front legs waving in the air, his tail thrashing. “What does this say about your country that its citizens are oblivious to this abomination? How can you lead the war against terror if you are terrorists yourselves? You run a school that teaches torture! You invade and conquer a country and torture its people in secret and not so secret prisons around the world! How can you let this rancid scar continue to stain the face of Liberty? You must not let this stand!”, he blasted as he pounded his hand with his fist. The ruined columns and crumbling palaces echoed with his outrage. The somber expression on the silent statues mirrored his condemnation. He turned his head to the sky and roared.