Some stories are so horribly awful that they seem to stay put, resting only with those insiders in the legal profession that know the truth of a thing that really happened that was so abosolutely grusome, hideous, gastly, macabre, horrendous, . . . that the story stays frozen in time and is not permitted to enter the informational fray. Maybe it's best, because once I realized that this hapened and that it happened on God's watch, I left faith my faith in a burnt-out singlewide in Cocke County, Tennessee. On second thought, maybe it's not. Maybe the truth should spring from cover. Meanwhile, some poor old woman in Mexico City can take solace in the blood that seems to emerge from the eyes of the Madonna during lent. What a crock of nonsense into which the masses dip their hearts.