Accounts of Anti-Armenian Human Rights Violations in Azerbaijan #007
                 Prelude to Current Events in Nagorno-Karabakh

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 |                                                                          |
 | They grab Papa, carry him into one room, and Mamma and me into another.  |
 | They put Mamma on the bed and start undressing her, beating her legs.    |
 | They start tearing my clothes, right there, in front of Mamma. I don't   |
 | remember where they went, what they did, or how much time passed. I had  |
 | the feeling that they beat me on the head, on my body, and tore my       |
 | clothes, all at the same time, I don't even know what I said. The        |
 | atrocities started. I was savagely raped in that room. They argued among |
 | themselves who would go first.                                           |
 |                                                                          |
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DEPOSITION OF KARINE (KARINA) GRIGOREVNA M. [1]

Born 1964
Secretary-Typist
Azsantekmontazh Trust
Sumgait Construction and Installation Administration
Secretary of the SMU Komsomol Organization

Resident at Building 17/33B, Apartment 15
Microdistrict No. 3
Sumgait [Azerbaijan]

On the 27th my sister Marina and I went to the movies the seven o'clock show,
at the theater that is across from the City Party Committee, about 50 yards
away. The SK theater. They were showing an Argentinian film, "The Abyss."
Before the film we noticed about 60 to 70 people standing near the podium at
the City Party Committee, but they were silent, there's no conversation
whatsoever, and we couldn't figure out what was going on. That is, we knew it
was about Karabagh, but what it was exactly, what they were talking about, if
someone gave a speech or not, we didn't know. We bought our tickets. There
were 30 or 40 people in the theater. This was a very small number for that
large movie theater. The film started. About 30 minutes later they stopped the
film. A crowd burst in. About 60 people. They came up onto the stage. Well
mostly they were young people, from 16 to 23 years old. They demanded that an
Armenian woman come up onto the stage. They used foul language and said that
they were going to show what Azerbaijanis were capable of, what they could do
to Armenian girls. I thought that's what they meant because they had demanded
a girl specifically. Marina and I were sitting together. I told her to move
over, there were some Russian girls sitting nearby. So that if someone
recognized me or if something happened, they would take me, and not Marina.
It got quiet, 2 or 3 girls jumped up to run out, but the door was closed--it's
only opened at the end of the   show--and they returned to their seats.
Everyone in the theater was looking at one another, Russians, Azerbaijanis,
people of various nationalities. But no one reacted at all, no one in the
auditorium made a sound. They were silent, looking at one another, and
gradually started to leave. Some guy, a really fat one, says, "OK, we've
scared them enough, let's leave." They leave slowly, pompously. It seemed to
me that those people were not themselves. Either they had smoked a bunch of
"anasha", or had taken something else, because they all looked beastly, like
they were ready to tear anyone apart. Then it was all over, as though nothing
had happened at all. The film started up again, it was one of those cheerful
films which should have only brought pleasure, made you happy to be alive. We
could barely sit to the end. So it had started at seven it was over by nine,
and it was dark . . .

Marina and I were walking home, Lenin Street, that's the center of town. Lenin
Street was packed, just packed with young people. They were shouting,
something about Karabagh and something about Armenians. We weren't especially
listening, because the way we were feeling we didn't know if we were going to
make it home or not, and just what had happened anyway? Public transportation
wasn't running. Incidentally, when we came out of the theater we saw police,
policemen standing there. The director of the movie theater was looking at the
doors, because when they were leaving they had broken the glass, the doors
there are basically all glass. Everything was broken. He stood there grief-
stricken, but looking as though nothing really big had happened, like some
naughty boys had just broken them quite by accident, with a slingshot. Well,
since he looked more or less calm I decided that, nothing all that super
serious had happened. We went out very slowly; we wanted to catch a bus, we
live literally one stop away. We didn't want to go on foot, not because it was
dark, but because something might happen. We flagged down a cab, but the
driver didn't want to take us. We told him we live near the bus station, and
he said he'd take us to the bus station and not a yard farther. I said, well,
OK . . .

So we got into the cab and managed to get there. Something incredible was
happening at the bus station. There was a traffic jam. Public transportation
was at a standstill and everyone was shouting "Ka-ra-bagh," they're not going
to give up Karabagh. I go home and tell my family what's going on, and there's
immediate panic in the house. Mamma says, what should we do? Like the end had
come, they were going to come, kill us, that's it . . . Somehow we managed to
cheer ourselves up: Nothing that bad could happen. Where are we living anyway,
just what kind of social order do we have? Somehow we manage to calm Mamma
down. And we went to bed. But no one could sleep. Everyone made as though
nothing had happened.

That was on Saturday. In short, the day went by. We didn't go anywhere and
didn't call our relatives. No one did anything. Because . . . life goes on.
That day I realized something was approaching, but what exactly, I couldn't
guess.

On the 28th everything was like it was supposed to be, we lived like we always
had. There were five of us at home: Mamma, Papa and us, three sisters: Lyuda,
Marina, and I. My sister Lyuda was in Yerevan at the time. We sat at home and
no one went out. Later we learned that a demonstration had started that
morning. It all started . . . They were smashing up stores. We were sitting at
home and didn't know anything about it. Then a girlfriend of mine, Lyuda
Zimogliad, came by at around three o'clock I think. We worked together, we did
our apprenticeships together, she's a Russian girl. She said that something
awful was happening in town. I asked, "Don't they want Armenians? Well what
are they after, if they're already in that state?" She says, no, nothing like
that, it's just a demonstration, but it's awful to watch it. Somehow, it feels
like a war has broken out. Public transportation has been stopped . . . The
cabs, the buses, well it's just a nightmare.

Then Papa decides to go to the drugstore, my mother was having allergy
problems at the time . . . He left the house and our neighbor, Aunt Vera,
asked him, "Where are you going? Stop! There are such terrible things going
on in the courtyard; aren't you afraid to go out?" Papa didn't know what she
was talking about. She simply pushed him back into the entryway. He came home
and told Mamma. Mamma said, "Well, if Aunt Vera was talking like that it means
that something is really going on." But we didn't go see her, she's a Russian,
she lives across from us. I had to see my friend out. Around five o'clock I
tell Lyuda, "Ok, look, it's time for you to go, it's late already, I'll see
you out." Mamma says, "You don't need to go, it's too late already, you can
see what the situation in town is." So we decided to stay home. Dinner was
ready. Mamma says, "Let her eat with us, then she can go." We sat down at the
table. But no one was hungry, no one was in the mood, we just put everything
out on the table to calm ourselves down, and make it appear that we're eating.
We turned on the television, and the show "In Fairy-Tale Land" was coming on.
We cleared the table.

We hear some noise out in the courtyard. I go out on the balcony, but I can't
see what's going on, because the noise is coming from the direction of the bus
station, and there is a 9-story building in the way. There is mob of people
. . . I can't figure out what's happening. They're shouting something, looking
somewhere, I can't make out what is going on. I go down to a neighbor, she's
an Azerbaijani; we've been friends of her family for about 25 years. I go down
to look from their place. I see people shouting, looking at the 5-and 9-story
buildings near the bus station. Just then soldiers set upon them, about 20
people, with clubs. The mob runs off in different directions. I even see
several people from our building. They are looking and laughing . . . I decide
that means it's not all that bad if they are laughing: it means they're not
killing anyone. But now the crowd suddenly dashes toward the soldiers. One of
the soldiers cannot manage to get away, they start stomping on him with their
feet, everyone's kicking him . . . I become ill and go home, and explain in
general terms that horrible things are going on out there . . .  can't speak
. . . Well, they've probably killed that soldier, the way that crowd is . . .
If each of them kicked him just once . . . They took his club away from him
and started to beat him with it. But it was far away and I couldn't see if he
got up and left or not.

I become terrified and go home and say, "Lyuda, don't go anywhere, stay at our
place, because if you go out they could kill you or . . . " Then the crowd
runs over closer toward our building and stands at the 12-story building and
starts shouting something. We go out onto the balcony. All of our neighbors
are also out on theirs, too. Everyone is standing, staring. The mob is
shouting and about 5 minutes later comes running toward our building. As it
turns out, at the 12-story building the Azerbaijani neighbors went down and
kept them from coming in. There's only one entryway there, they could stop
them.

They all run up to our building. Mamma immediately starts closing the windows,
afraid that they might throw stones. They have stones and they break the
windows, all of them. There are very many people. We have a large courtyard,
and it's packed with people. They spill up to the first floor so they don't
crush each other. They crawl up on trees, posts, and garages. It's just a huge
cloud of people. They break and burn the motorcycle of the Armenian Sergey
Sargisian, from our building. We close the windows and immediately hear
tramping in our entryway. They come up to our fifth floor with a tremendous
din and roar. It's incomprehensible. Mamma told me later that they were
shouting Father's name, "Grisha, open the door, we've come to kill you!," or
something like that. I don't remember that, I was spaced out, kind of. Mamma
says, "Into the bedroom, quickly!" In the bedroom we have two tall beds, part
of our dowry; Mamma says, "Hide there, they probably won't come in there,
they'll ask something, say something, and leave." She says, "We'll tell them
that we live alone here." I can't imagine that my parents will stand out in
the hall alone talking with some sort of beasts . . . I go to them and say
that I'll stand together with them, I'll talk with them if they come, maybe I
can find a common language with them, all the more so if they know me: I speak
Azerbaijani more or less, and I can find out what they want. I told Marina and
Lyuda to hide under the bed, and my sister Lyuda, I can't remember if I told
her anything or not.

Then . . . they open the door: it's like they blew on it and it broke and fell
right into the hall. The crows bursts in and starts to shout: Get out of here,
leave, vacate the apartment and go back to your Armenia; things like that. I
tell them, "What has happened, speak calmly. One of you, tell me, calmly, what
has happened." In Azerbaijani, they say, "Get out of the apartment, leave." I
say, "OK. Go downstairs. We'll gather everything we need and leave the
apartment." I realize that it is senseless to discuss any sort of rights with
them, these are animals. They must be stopped. The ones standing in the
doorway, the young guys, say, "There are old people and one girl with them.
Too bad!" They take two or three steps back. It seems as though I have
pacified them with our exchange. Then someone in the courtyard shouts,
commanding them: "Don't you understand what you are saying? Kill them?"

And that was it! That was all it took. They grab Papa, carry him into one
room, and Mamma and me into another. They put Mamma on the bed and start
undressing her, beating her legs. They start tearing my clothes, right there,
in front of Mamma. I don't remember where they went, what they did, or how
much time passed. I had the feeling that they beat me on the head, on my body,
and tore my clothes, all at the same time, I don't even know what I said. The
atrocities started. I was savagely raped in that room. They argued among
themselves who would go first.

Later, I remember, I came to. I don't know if I'm dead or alive. Someone comes
in, someone tall, I think, clean-shaven, in an Eskimo dogskin coat, balding.
He looks around at what's happening. At that instant everything stops. It
seems to me that he is either their commander or . . . that somehow everything
depends on him. He looks and says, "Well, we're done here." They are beating
Mamma on the head. They break up the chairs and beat her with the chair legs
. . . She loses consciousness, and they decide that she's dead. Papa . . . was
out cold. They want to throw Lyuda off the balcony, but they can't get the
window open. Apparently the window frames are stuck after the rain and the
windows can't be opened. They leave her next to the window. She was thinking
about being thrown out the window and passed out. She's not a real strong
person anyway . . . He looks at me and sees that I'm saying something, that
I'm still twitching. Well, I start saying the opposite of what I should be,
which is humbling myself and pleading. I start shouting, cursing . . . they
don't get any entreaty out of me. I  already know that I'm dead, why would I
humble myself before anyone? And he says that if that's what I think, since my
tongue is so long . . . maybe he thinks that I still look quite appealing
. . . In short, he commands that I be taken outside.

I no longer saw or remembered what was happening to Marina and Lyuda, I don't
know if they are alive or not. They take me outside. They are dragging me by
my arms, by my legs. They are hitting me against the wall, the railings,
something metal . . . While they are carrying me someone is biting me, someone
else is pinching me . . .I don't even know. I think, my God, when will death
come? If only it were sooner . . . Then . . . they carry me out, throw me near
the entryway . . . and start kicking me. I lose consciousness . . . What
happened after that, how many people there were, I don't remember.

I come to after a while, I don't remember how long. A neighbor is bringing me
clothing. I'm entirely covered with blood, she puts a dress on me. I remember
that I said the same words over and over again: "Mamma, what happened, Mamma,
what have they done to us, where are we, whose house are we at?" I can't make
sense out of anything. There is a guy standing over me, I sort of know him, he
served in Afghanistan, his name is Igor, he brought me indoors. When they all
went to the third entryway and killed a person there, Igor gathered his
courage, took me into his arms, and brought me to the neighbors', even though
he's small-minded, he put himself at risk. Igor Agayev is Azerbaijani; he
served in Afghanistan. There are three brothers. The older brother also served
there, I think; now he's stationed here, on the border, in Armenia. Igor
brought me to the neighbors', and then helped me come to my senses, saying,
"Karina, I know you, calm down, I'm not one of them." How do I know who's who
and what's what? I come to, and they clean me up. I was covered in blood. Then
Papa . . . I saw Papa, I saw Mamma. And Marina, too . . . Igor was there when
they dragged Marina and Lyuda out from under the bed . . . Marina . . . Lyuda
said that she was Russian, they said, we'll let you go, we aren't touching the
Russians, go. And while they are dragging Marina out she decides she's going
to tell them she's Azerbaijani. Igor immediately grabs Marina's and Lyuda's
hands, because he knows Marina, and knows that she is Armenian and is our
sister, and takes her to the second floor to a neighbor's and starts pounding
on the door so she will open up. She opens the door and Igor pushes them in
there. So they survived.

My sister Lyuda lost consciousness after the bandits started stealing things.
While they were going downstairs, taking things downstairs, then coming back
up again, Lyuda seized the opportunity and crawled under the bed and stayed
there. Then, when she was herself again, she found a torn night shirt and put
it on, and some sort of robe and went to a neighbor's on the fourth floor, the
one whose apartment I had watched the crowd from, the friend of ours, and
knocked on the door. The neighbor opened and said, "I'm not going to let you
in the apartment because I'm afraid of them. But I'll give you some stockings
and we'll leave the building." Lyuda says, "I'll stay at your place because of
what's going on, they keep going up and down the stairs." It was just for a
moment, just a moment in life, but the neighbor wouldn't consent. Lyuda came
back to our place and lay under the bed . . .

I came to. Mother was there. I can't remember my supervisor's telephone
number, but something had to be done. Somehow I remembered and called, and he
came to get us. He didn't have any idea what was going on. He thought we were
simply afraid, he didn't know that they were killing us and that we had passed
between life and death. He came and got us and took us to the police precinct.
There they looked us over. I was having trouble walking, my lungs hurt badly,
it was hard to breathe . . .

My supervisor's name is Urshan Feyruzovich Mamedov. He's the head of our
administration. They took us there. When we were leaving, I saw a great number
of buses full of soldiers at the entrance to town. The buses were ordinary
passenger buses. There were very many soldiers. We left around eleven, right
after eleven. If these people could stop what was happening they could save a
great many lives . . . Because the crowd was moving on, toward the school, and
what was going on there . . . I think everyone know not only in Sumgait, not
only in Yerevan. Because there they murdered them all one after the next,
without stopping. After us.

I think 14 people died in Microdistrict No. 3, and 10 to 12 of them were from
Buildings 4, 5, and 6. In our building one person died, and one old woman died
from Building 16, that's the building in front of ours. There young
Azerbaijani men stopped the mob and wouldn't let it into their building.
Incidentally, when we were at the neighbors', Marina called our relatives
to warn them, so they would all know what was happening. I called a aunt in
Microdistrict No. 5. They have three neighbors who are Armenians. I said, "Run
quickly, I can't explain what's going on; hide, do what you can, just stay
alive. Hide at Azerbaijanis', ones who won't give you away." At that moment
three people came in, policemen. I think they were Azerbaijanis. I was in such
awful condition, my face was completely distorted my lips were puffed up,
there was blood, my eye was swollen, no one thought I would ever see anything
out of that eye again . . . my forehead was badly cut, and one-half of my face
was pushed out forward. No one would have thought that I would survive, get my
normal appearance back, and be able to grasp anything at all. I started to
scream at those people, why did you come, who sent you here, no one wants you
here, haven't you killed people people yet, what are you doing here? One of
the soldiers said, "Don't scream at us. We're Muslims, but we're not from the
Sumgait police. They called in from Daghestan." So at that point the
Daghestan police were there.

When we got to the police precinct there were an awful lot of police there,
there were soldiers, police with dogs, ambulances, firemen . . . I don't know,
maybe they were waiting for people to bring them the goners and the seriously
injured to treat them there in the police precinct. I don't know what they
were there for. There were also doctors from Baku there. They examined Lyuda
and me and said, "These women need to go to the Maternity Home, but we don't
know what to do with the rest."

So they took us, and I lost contact with my parents, my boss, everyone. My
boss said, "Don't worry, I'll find you, no matter where you are, no matter
what happens." We went to the hospital. There we were examined by a department
head from the Sumgait Maternity Home, Pashayeva, I think her name was. She
examined us. The ambulance was from Baku; I figured out that the Sumgait
ambulances hadn't done anything, they didn't respond to any calls. People
called and neither the police nor the ambulances showed any sign of life.

That doctor looked me over and I could tell from her behavior that something
very good had happened, for she became quite glad. I even thought to myself,
"God, can it be that nothing all that bad is wrong?" She looks me over and
says, "Now why are you suffering so? You don't know what your people have been
doing, your people did even worse things." And I think, great, I have to deal
with her . . . And I felt so bad, I thought, why don't I just die so as not to
have to hear more stuff like this from people like her? Here I am in this
condition and being told about something that our people did. I just didn't
have the energy to say, "How could our people possibly be smart enough to
think of something that yours haven't already done?" I stayed there. Then they
brought in another woman, Ira B., she was married, and she was raped in her
own apartment, too. There were three of us, Ira, Lyuda, and 1. The next
morning they took Lyuda and Ira away. They didn't do anything to help us. This
was in the old Maternity Home, in the combined block. They didn't do anything
more than examine me, that was it. I didn't want any shots or tranquilizer,
nothing. What shots could have calmed me down? I didn't even want to look at
them.

I lay in the ward. Either it just worked out that way or they did it on pur-
pose, but I was alone. I was alone even though the wards were packed. That
same evening a woman came by and asked me what was wrong with me, that my face
was disfigured. She asked what had happened to me, and I said, "Better to ask
your brother what happened, there's no point in asking me, your brother can
better explain what happened." She fell into a faint. All the doctors threw
themselves at her, and the doctor categorically forbade anyone to come into my
ward.

Then people from work came to see me, my boss, his daughter; they brought me
clothing, because I was literally naked. The only thing I had on was a dress,
but the woman who gave it to me was very short, and the dress was way up
above my knees, and the woman orderly said, "I can't believe you put on such a
short dress, who are you showing off your legs to here?" I went back to my
ward thinking, just one more thing from something. People from work came and
brought me something in a sack, apples, I think, three or four pounds, but I
couldn't take them. I had become so weak that it was just embarrassing. I said
that I couldn't take the apples, and really didn't have any appetite. No one
had to bring me anything. Some woman took the sack . . . And, oh yes! . . .
Then I heard that the head doctor tell a nurse that my medical history should
be hidden or torn up completely so that no one would know that I was an
Armenian, maybe they wouldn't figure it out from looking at me. So they must
have been thinking that there would be some kind of attack, that something
else would happen. That it would be worse. Or, perhaps, someone was outside on
the street, I don't know. In any case, I didn't sleep a wink that night.

The next morning they picked me up, a whole police detail, put me in a bus,
and off we went. I didn't even know where they were taking me. They took me to
the club where the troops were, the very one I was in that ill-fated evening.
I got off the bus. Near the City Party Committee there were a great many
troops, tanks, armored personnel carriers; the whole scene was terrible. I saw
a few people I knew there, and that calmed me a little. I had already thought
that I was the only one left. So there were five or six of us left in Sumgait
after that night. I still didn't know what happened to my parents, they didn't
come to see me in the hospital, and my boss told me that everything was fine.
I didn't know whether to believe him or not. Maybe he was just trying to calm
me down, maybe something happened on the way. Then I went to the club and saw
a lot of people I knew. They all knew one another, they were all kissing each
other and asking, "What happened, what went on?" Two days later they came to
see me from work. They were there all the time. Each day they came, showed
interest, and were constantly bringing me money. They did everything they
could. Of course I'm most thankful to my boss, the only one of my colleagues
who didn't lose his presence of mind and who didn't change his opinions,
neither before, nor after, nor in the heat of the moment, no matter what
happened. He constantly took an interest. A sincere interest, from the heart
. . . Then, about two days later, the secretary of the Party Committee came,
not from our Party organization, but from the First Trust, which ours is part
of, Comrade Kerimov, a very important figure in our town. He made arrangements
with the emergency medical personnel to take me away, because if I sat down by
myself I couldn't get up or lie down again. There was something wrong with my
lungs, it was hard to breathe. They examined me there several times, there I
lay were several doctors, they all thought that . . . that it must just be
from all the blows, I don't know. They didn't diagnose anything in particular.
When I was in the Maternity Home I even asked . . . I made it a point of
insisting that they take me to the trauma section because I felt so awful.
There was no way something inside wasn't broken, my ribs . . . Well they took
me there and took x-rays and said that everything was fine. There were
emergency medical workers on duty in the club. The mother of one of Marina's
friends was there. She was the head doctor at the Sumgait Children's Clinic.
They had every kind of antifever agent in the world, which was exactly what I
needed at that moment, I thought. I said that I was having great difficulty
breathing, I couldn't seem to get enough air, something was wrong with me.
They put tight bandages around my chest and waist. Later I overheard some
people saying that I had been cut all over. I think they just saw me being all
bandaged up and decided that my breasts and face had been cut . . . But I
wasn't cut.

They took us to the Khimik boarding house. We lived there a long time. Soon
appeared representatives . . . They were agitating. At first people would not
talk to them, and drove them off. One of the Armenian women shouted, "We
demand that Seidov come!" The response was, "It's Seidov who sent us." Seidov
is the Chairman of the Azerbaijani Council of Ministers. The woman said,
"We'll only see Seidov's daughter, have her come here, we'll do the same
things to her that they did to our daughters, and then we'll deal with you
agitators." And so on. More of them said, "Have Seidov himself come." This
went on day in, day out. The agitators kept coming and coming, this drove us
out of our wits. Then people gradually started departing for Yerevan because
they realized it was senseless to stay. Everything got on our nerves: The
smell, the small children. There were children at the SK club, children who
had literally just come out of the Maternity Home. What were they doing in a
club that didn't even have running water all the time? At first we had to pay
to eat there. They even overcharged us, as it turned out. On the second day
someone told us that they would bring us food for free. The children were ill.
Everything stank there. Well imagine about 3,000 people in a small movie
theater with seating for no more than 500. You couldn't sit or lie down, it
was impossible to even move. The stench was awful. Even the smallest infants
took ill overnight there. I heard that they were arriving seriously ill in
Yerevan, the infants. They have to be washed, they have to be bathed, not to
mention that we, the adults, were ill and needed care. People were fainting
right and left. I just don't know, everyone was crying, everyone . . . Only
the young people, the men, somehow managed to keep it together. But the women
were in a constant state of panic. It seemed to everyone that they would come
any minute and kill and stab. It seemed clear that we had been gathered
together purposely, like during the war, so that they could burn the movie
theater and there wouldn't be a single Armenian left. Then people went up to
the attic. I didn't see them, I only heard them, because I was lying down and
couldn't get up. I lay right on the stage, we had some room there. Apparently
they caught two people with either oil or gas. I think they wanted to burn the
theater. Maybe someone saw them, I didn't. I was in no condition to open my
eyes.

Everyone was suspicious of everyone else. They would ask, "Aren't you an
Azerbaijani? I think I saw you somewhere, I think you're an Azerbaijani." They
led out all the men and started letting them back in by checking their
passports, relatives might be covering for each other. Half of the people did
not have any documents. There were people who had run out of their homes in
nothing but a pair of pants and slippers, or wearing just a shirt, not like
they should have, with their IDs.

So on the 28th, on Sunday, I think, the police did nothing to help us. On
Monday everything resumed where it had left off on Block 41A. They didn't
spare a soul there: not children, not pregnant women, nobody. They killed,
they burned, they hacked with axes, just everything possible. They murdered
the Melkumian family whom I knew, my mother worked with them. Their daughter-
in-law went to school with my older sister. They were brutally murdered. Only
the two daughters-in-law survived. By a miracle one was able to save herself,
she ran away, the neighbors wouldn't take her in, so she ran about the
building until she found refuge. She was pregnant and had two small children.
This all continued on Monday in Block 41A, on the 29th, when the troops were
already in the city.

They murdered people, they overturned automobiles, and they burned entire
families. They say they didn't even know for sure if the people were Armenians
or not. I heard that the Lezgins suffered, too. I'm not sure myself, I didn't
see any Lezgins who had been injured. They burned cars so it's very difficult
now to say exactly who died and who didn't. It was very difficult to identify
the corpses, or rather, what remained of the corpses after they were doused in
gasoline and burned . . . it's all very hard to imagine, of course I heard
that many people disappeared without a trace, from the BTZ plant two people,
including a woman who worked the night shift, Aunt Razmella, who also lived in
Microdistrict 3.

They were stopping buses between Baku and Sumgait. In the evening people who
had been visiting Baku were returning to Sumgait, and people from Baku were
going home from Sumgait, and there were students, too. They were simply
savagely murdered. They were stopping the buses, the drivers immediately did
what they were told because there was just no other way to deal with that
hoard of brutally minded people. They stopped the buses, dragged the Armenians
out and killed them on the spot. I didn't see it myself, but I heard that they
put them all in a pile so as to burn them. Later it was hard to discern from
the corpses, well you can't call them corpses, you had to figure out from the
ashes who it was. l heard that two fellows saved two women, one a student, Ira
G., if I'm not mistaken. She was in the hospital a long time after that, and
she still can't figure out who saved her. She was also brutally raped and
beaten and thrown onto a pile of corpses. The fellow pulled her out of that
whole pile of corpses, put his coat on her, took her into his arms, and
carried her to the city. I still can't imagine how he managed to do that.

I heard that from Engels Grigorian. He knows her, apparently. Well a lot of
people went to that hospital anyway. She was in the hospital and singing a
song in Armenian, and they wrote the words down, and, I think he still has
that piece of paper, because he says that a lot of people now have that song,
the one she sang in the hospital where she lay in such bad shape. They
couldn't find the guy who saved her. He left her in someone's apartment and
called the ambulance, she was in such awful shape that, probably, like me,
she couldn't remember anyone's face.

I think that I knew one of the people who broke into our house, maybe I had
talked with him once. But I received so many blows everything was just knocked
out of my head. I can't remember to this day who he was. Then, it seems, I saw
the Secretary of the Directorate's Party organization, where Marina works. She
goes to school and works, she goes to night school at AZI, and works by day at
the Khimzashchita Construction and Installation Administration. I'm the
Secretary of the Komsomol organization at our administration and often met
with the secretaries of Party and Komsomol organizations. We had joint
meetings. I know them all, I've even talked with them, and he, I know, is from
Armenia. An Azerbaijani, but from Armenia. It became obvious that many of
those people were Azerbaijanis born in Armenia.

They took me to various police stations, to the police precinct, and to the
Procuracy, because the USSR Procuracy got involved in the case, and I iden-
tified the photographs of people who I could more or less recognize. They
showed me the people who were in our apartment, they're working on our
case, but I can't even recognize them, although it was proved that they were
the ones, they're processing it somehow. They tell me that they know that
someone held me by the arm and someone else held me by the leg when they were
dragging me. There was someone else in our apartment who did not even touch
me, he just stole a blanket and an earring or something like that. All these
people, all of them, as much as I've heard about them and seen them, they were
all from Kafan.

The Secretary of the Party organization is named Najaf, Najaf Rzayev. He was
there when everything started. It must have been him because I didn't
recognize anyone else in the crowd whom I knew besides him. All the more since
I told him, "Listen, you do something, because you know me." He turned away
and went toward the bedroom, where Marina was. Well you couldn't see Marina
anyway. There was such a noisy confusion of people that you couldn't make out
anyone. All of it flew right out of my head, and then gradually I became
myself again, at the City Party Committee . . . There were military people
there. I told them what went on, and they wrote it all down. I told them his
name. On March 8 the Secretary of our First Trust Party organization, the one
we're part of, came to see us, his name is Najaf Rzayev. I tell Mamma, "If
he's here despite the fact that I gave his name, it means that either his
alibi has been confirmed or, probably, that they think I'm crazy, not
responsible for my words." He said, "What did they do to you, how awful,
myself, I hid an Armenian family." Then after some time goes by he comes back
again and says something entirely different: "I wasn't at home, my family and
I went to Baku." I said, "Marina, what is he saying? He said something totally
different before." After that I didn't go to see our Procurator, our case is
being handled by a procurator from Voronezh, Fedorov by name. Fedorov told me
that Rzayev's case had just gotten to him, and there were so names involved.
What are they doing with Rzayev?
Did he prove his alibi or not? They just think that since I was hit in the
head I can't say anything for sure, whether it was him or not. It will be an
insult if he was in our apartment and doesn't have to pay for it, but at the
same time

I'm afraid to say I'm a hundred percent sure that it was he. Because no mat-
ter who I name, they tell me, no, you're wrong, he didn't do that, that one
wasn't there. All the faces have gotten mixed up in my mind. Who did what
exactly I can't say.

When they took me outside there was a whole crowd there, but I didn't see it,
because I had my eyes closed all the time. It seemed to me that I always got
it because of my eyes, people were always hassling me, for some reason it
always seemed to me that my eyes are responsible. When they were beating my
face I thought they were trying to put my eyes out. So I had my eyes closed,
they took me outside and started to beat me. A young guy, 22, held my arms, he
works at the BTZ plant. And right nearby, across the road from us, Block 41,
is where all this was going on. Right across the road from us. The BTZ
dormitory is over there, that's where he lives. Now he's in custody, they even
have proved, as far as I know, that it was he who killed Shurik Gambarian, the
clarinet player from the third entryway of our building. One person in our
building was killed, it was that man.

A guy comes by who shared a room with the guy who was holding me. He saw that
he was holding me by the arms and that he was beating me, but he didn't come
over, he just looked and then went into the dormitory. A while after it was
all over, people started making announcements in town saying that
investigators had been summoned. That guy went and told them everything. Now
they've caught him, everything's been proved. Now, evidently, they've been
beating him, I don't know what they're doing with them over there, but he
himself said that he was working the night shift at the plant. Some young guy
came to the plant and said, "Everyone who wants to kill Armenians come to the
bus station on Saturday at ten." That was it. He said, the ones who wanted to,
went. This was at the BTZ plant, during the night shift, probably, late Friday
night. It was at night, they were at the sauna together. And he said, what do
you mean, do you understand what you are saying? The others were silent,
probably, in their hearts they were thinking, I'm going to go. But they didn't
say anything to one another. He said that he thought it important to to go,
because he had heard a lot about what had happened in Kafan, that they had
killed their Azerbaijani sisters, their mothers, burned villages, and all of
that. That guy was also born in Kafan. That is certain. And Marina says that
the Secretary of the Party organization is from Armenia, too.                                                             from

I've participated in the investigation a couple of times. I'm satisfied with
them thus far. They summoned us and asked about what happened, and every word
I said was recorded. I met some guy there . . . By the way, he was an
Armenian. I said that he was in our apartment, but what he did, I don't know.
His last name was Grigorian, Eduard Grigorian. He s from Sumgait, from
Microdistrict 1. He was sentenced I think, to five years, not his first time.
His mother is Russian. I met with him at the KGB in Baku, at the Azerbaijani
KGB. They took us there and showed me photographs. There were so many
photographs, I think they even photographed those people who were caught at
curfew, and I've got them all confused. I say, the face was about like this,
the guy in the white coat with the red clasps. But he could take that coat off
and burn it somewhere, and it would be like looking for a needle in a
haystack. Well. This guy, Grigorian, I said, he was in our apartment, but he
is so light-complected that he looks like a Lezgin. I don't know what he did,
I can't remember. Maybe he beat me or raped me. But he was in our apartment.
At the KGB he started asking me, pleading with me, there's no need for this,
all this stuff, look me in the eyes, you're like a sister to me. I took a look
at him and thought, "My God, Heaven forbid that I should have a brother like
you." But they were satisfied with my responses, because I said everything
without great certainty. I was there with Mamma. Then Lyuda came in, but when
she came in she got sick immediately. She wanted to kill him, she crawled over
the table at him. She recognized him. When she came to, Lyuda was lying on the
balcony, the mob threw her there and all of them ran into the bedroom. We had
all kinds of boxes with dishes in them, the dowries for all three sisters.
They stole everything in the apartment, leaving only small things. At that
moment Lyuda came to and started remembering everything. Well, seeing the
faces, hearing the voices . . . Two people were saying they could burn the
apartment. Another says, why burn the apartment when I've got three kids and
no place to live. So this guy was in temporary housing, he didn't have
anywhere to live, he was from Sumgait. They were sure that they would get the
apartment. Besides, the neighbors were Azerbaijani. Why should they burn the
apartment, they might burn Azerbaijanis. That's what they said. How did they
know there were Azerbaijanis there, if they just picked a place, thinking that
Armenians lived there? We have a list of the residents for our part of the
building, our name is in there, but how could they know that Azerbaijanis
lived on the other side of the wall from us? So they didn't set fire to our
apartment.

I don't know, I was in such bad shape that if all of it had come to a halt
when I was outside, if someone had asked me what was happening, I would
have said that a civil war was going on. Well, maybe not civil . . . but
probably civil, because when they were beating me I opened my eyes and saw
that all the neighbors were standing on their balconies and watching, like at
a free horror film. So a civil war was going on, and only the Armenians were
being fought. If it were a world war or something like that, they would have
been fighting everyone. But they only fought us. Then I met some women from
our building, some Azerbaijanis. They are crying, they tell me, "Karina, we
saw all of it, how could it happen?" They're asking me! Well I just don't know
what to call it if a normal girl can stand there and watch what happened to
me. I think that if it were the other way around either I wouldn't have been
able to take it, or I would have tried to avert it, like that one Azerbaijani
woman did in front of our building. A woman lives there, an awful, dissipated
woman, if you can call her a woman, the dissipated life she leads. Two
Armenian families live there, in her part of the building. She came out on the
balcony and saw what was happening to me and started to scream and curse. She
came down to the entryway and said, "You'll come in this entryway over my dead
body." So not one of them took it in his head to go in that entryway. Some
folks were saying that those people were so out of control that they didn't
even know what they were doing. I don't think that's true. They knew very well
what they were doing if they didn't even lift a hand against that woman. They
couldn't have cared less about her, but the fact that she was an Azerbaijani
stopped them.

They were just beasts, they had smoked so much. When they came to our place
they were all chewing something. I noticed: Everyone who came into the
apartment was chewing something. I think, my God, maybe I just think that?
Maybe I'm losing my mind? But no, they're all chewing something. Maybe it is
some kind of drug, it must be, because . . . At first glance they all seemed
to be such normal people, young, clean-shaven, looking exactly as if they had
come to some sort of celebration. But they were shouting something. They
didn't talk, they shouted, as though there were deaf people there. They
screamed and screamed: "Yeah, killing, killing, we're killing the Armenians!"
Only they didn't shout "kill," they shouted "gurun ermianlary." Gurun
literally means "kill," or "destroy."

That's how it was! I'll continue. We hid in a captain's apartment, he's an
Azerbaijani, his wife is a Tatar. We were sitting in their apartment, their
kids were out in the yard. Their kids knew a whole lot. This was in our part
of the building, on the third floor. When Mamma came to and couldn't find
Lyuda she took Papa's hand, this was while the looters were stealing things,
but they didn't pay attention because they were stealing things. Apparently
they had already ceased killing and switched to stealing. Mamma found the
courage to . . .

A boy said to my mother "Where's the gold?" Mamma said he must have been 12
to 14 years old. He even looked Russian, he was so fair-skinned. But the
Azerbaijanis from Armenia are fair-skinned. I noticed they were all on the
fair side. He shouted, they were all smashing things, and he asks Mamma where
the gold is. We kept our gold in the wardrobe with our important papers. In a
little black bag, we kept everything in there. Mamma doesn't really like to
wear gold. She probably never even wore those things from the time they were
bought for her. They took everything that was lying on the cheval glass. Mamma
thinks that the gold saved us. Because they threw themselves at the gold, and
Mamma grabbed Papa, who was trying to breathe. They had closed his mouth,
bound his hands, and put a pillow and a chair on his face . . . They had
shoved something into his mouth so he would suffocate. Mamma grabbed him and
tore all that stuff off . . . He had something in his mouth, he was having
trouble breathing, his nose was filled with blood. Mamma grabbed him and
started running from the fifth down to the first floor because no one wanted
to open their doors to them. Mamma said that by accident, completely by
accident that person opened his door, he was sleeping, and said, half-awake,
"What's happened?" He sees that they are bloody. Mamma said, "At least go and
find out what's happening to my daughters, even if they've burned them or
murdered them, at least bring the corpses." He went looking for us. At that
moment Lyuda was under the bed. She says that after they left it seemed that
someone was calling her name. When he quietly called her she couldn't get out
from under the bed. She wanted to get out and was calling softly. She thought
she was shouting, but in fact she was either silent or was only talking to
herself, it just seemed to her that she was shouting. When she got out from
under the bed everyone was gone. And again . . . She thought that she had lost
her mind. I'll never leave here, never! To hell with it! It just seems that
way to me, I'll come to eventually. But then, when everything had settled
down, stopped, that mall brought Lyuda down, and Igor carried me in from
outside. Or first I was brought in, then Lyuda, I don't remember what order it
happened in.

And Mamma said, "Listen, they're all running around down there, shouting
something or other, and running toward the other building." It had more or
less calmed down where we were. Who's dead, who's alive, we don't know. I
tried to call my girlfriend. I had basically come to. Mamma says, "Listen;
let's go upstairs, at least get a mattress or something. We don't know how
long we'll be here. Maybe they didn't burn everything." I don't get it, all
women have that feeling, they want to get something from their homes, maybe
not everything was taken? I tell Mamma, "Mamma, what do you need any of that
for? To hell with it! We're alive, forget the rest of it, all of it!" She
says, "No, let's go get at least something. Maybe we'll leave here, spend the
night at someone else's." Mamma went upstairs, and their little boy, their son
Alik, was standing on the lookout. lIe was standing there to see if they were
coming. They only managed to run up there and grab something one time. He
shouts, "Come back, they're coming!" They didn't have enough time to get a
lot, mattresses from one apartment, a blanket from another . . . Mamma got my
knitting . . . Someone managed to grab our old things, the ones we never wore,
out of the hall . . . Someone took Father's old coveralls. The neighbor, his
wife, Mamma and Papa . . . Marina went with them. I was in no condition to
leave. Neither was Lyuda. We just sat. They ran out and we closed the door and
just then we hear that the mob is on its way toward our place upstairs,
they're dragging something again. They were going toward the other building,
maybe over by the school, or . . . There was an unfinished building over
there, people said they were going toward the basement or the unfinished
building, they could gradually carry everything over there. Then things more
or less calmed down. I tried to call my boss.

Later there was more noise. We were on the third floor, in a one-bedroom
apartment, and a woman lives in the one-bedroom place on the second floor,
Asya Dallakian. She's an old woman, retired. She wasn't at home, at that
time she was usually in the country, she has a married daughter there, and
her grandson is in the army. She is only very rarely in town; she gets her
retirement money and the apartment is essentially vacant. They started
pounding on her door and broke it down. She had two or three beds in there,
something like that, she's a 60-to 70-year-old woman who really does not even
live there. Probably she had some pots, a couple of metal bed frames and
mattresses, and a television. When her grandson came she bought a television.
They started wrecking everything. I started getting sick again. I think, "My
God, what is going on around here? When will this end?" We turned off the
lights and sat. As it turns out the people who weren't afraid, the ones who
knew what was going on, knew not to turn off the lights. We didn't know, but
they didn't come to where we were all the same. They all knew very well that
he was a captain. He went out and closed the door, and we sat in his
apartment. His last name was Kasumov. He's an exserviceman, retired, works up
at the fire station at some plant or other. He went out and stood at his door.
They tell him, "Comrade Captain, don't worry, we won't harm you, you're one of
us." He went upstairs, and they say, "Aren't you taking anything from this
apartment?" He says, "I don't need anything." And the women who were standing
in the yard . . . we have a basement, full of water . . . the women who were
standing in the yard saw. Those guys, they left everything they stole on the
first floor and ran upstairs again. The women threw everything they had time
to into the basement, to save our property. Some things were left: dirty
pillows, two or three other things and a rug. A guy came downstairs, really
mad, and he says, "Where's the rug? I just put it right here!" They tell him,
"Some guy came and took it and went off toward the school." He ran off in that
direction.

Oh! I forgot the most important point. When Igor picked me up in his arms,
there were women standing there who saw everything that was going on. They
just didn't tell me about it for a long time. The wife of that military man,
she didn't want to kill my spirit, I was already dead enough. Later she told
me, that after they murdered Uncle Shurik in the third entryway one of them,
the ringleader, apparently a young man, said, "Where's the girl who was here?"
And he became furious. The woman tells him, "She came to . . . " She didn't
know what to say: Think something up? Someone carried her off? Then they would
comb the whole house and find me and our whole family. So the woman says, "She
came to and went to the basement." Now, our basement is full of water. So the
whole mob dashes off to the basement to look for me or my corpse. They took
flashlights; they were up to their waists in water, water which had been
standing there for years, and soot, and fuel oil. They climbed down in there
to get me. Then one of them said, "There's so much water down there, she
probably walked and walked and then passed out and died. She met her death in
the basement. That's it, we can leave, no problem!" I didn't know that, and
when I was told, I felt worse. Two times worse. A lot worse! So they didn't
just want to pound me flat, something more awful was awaiting me . . .

After that we of course didn't want to live in Sumgait any longer. We really
didn't want to go back to our apartment. When we moved, I went up there and
started to quiver and shake all over, because I started remembering it all.
Although the neighbors all sobbed, it was all . . . so cheap . . . The people
who sat in their apartments and didn't help us at a time like that. I think
that they could have helped! I don't think that they were obligated to, but
they could have helped us! Because that one woman was able to stop that whole
brutal crowd by herself. That means they could have, too. It would have been
enough foe one man or women to say, What do you think you're doing?" That's
all! That would have done it. There were 60 apartments in our building. Not
one person said it! When I was lying on the ground and all those people were
standing on their balconies I didn't hear anyone's voice, no one said what are
you doing, leave her alone . . . Mamma even told one of the neighbor women
that if it had been an Azerbaijani woman in my place they would have dropped a
bomb if it would have killed even one Armenian. They would have stood up for
one of their own. True, they say that our neighbor from the fourth entryway,
an old/ sick woman tried to stop the pogrom. The Azerbaijanis have a custom:
if a woman takes her scarf and throws it on the ground, the men are supposed
to stop immediately. The old woman from the fourth entryway did that, but they
stomped her scarf into the ground, pushed her off to the side, and said, "If
you want to go on living, you'll disappear into your apartment." So she left.
That trick didn't work on them.

Even the neighbors who helped us move told me, OK, fine, calm down, forget
that it happened. I said I'd only forget it if I told them right then that it
had happened to their daughter--and if that didn't have any effect on them,
then I would forget everything, too. Imagine that it happened to your sister.
And no one did anything. Anything.

   April 25, 1988
   Yerevan

			- - - reference - - -

[1] _The Sumgait Tragedy; Pogroms against Armenians in Soviet Azerbaijan,
    Volume I, Eyewitness Accounts_, edited by Samuel Shahmuradian, forward by
    Yelena Bonner, 1990, published by Aristide D. Caratzas, NY, pages 93-109


I agree that there is truth in scripture.  There are principles to be
learned from it.  Claiming that that truth is absolute, though, seems
to imply a literal reading of the Bible.  If it were absolute truth
(constant across time, culture, etc.) then no interpretation would be
necessary.

It may be that the lessons gleaned from various passages are different
from person to person.  To me, that doesn't mean that one person is
right and the other is wrong.  I believe that God transcends our simple
minds, and that scripture may very well have been crafted with exactly
this intent.  God knows me, and knows that my needs are different
from yours or anyone else's.  By claiming that scripture is absolute,
then at least one person in every disputed interpretation must be wrong.
I just don't believe that God is that rigid.

This is where the arrogance comes in to play.  Since these principles
are crystal clear to evangelicals, maybe the rest of us should just take
their word for it?  Maybe it isn't at all crystal clear to *me* that
their fundamental principles are either fundamental *or* principles.

I think we've established that figuring out Biblical truth is a matter
of human interpretation and therefore error-prone.  Yet you can still
claim that some of them may be crystal clear?  Maybe to a certain
segment of Christianity, but to all.

Not at all.  I think it supports my position much more effectively
than yours.  :-)

So, I think that your position is:
The Bible is absolute truth, but as we are prone to error in our
interpretation, we cannot reliably determine if we have figured out
what that truth is.
Did I get that right?

What's the point of spending all this time claiming and defending
absolute truth, when we can never know what those truths are, and we
can never (or at least shouldn't) act upon them?  What practical
difference can this make?


First,Happy Birthday,Val. Second, ESPN's affinity with Patrick has probably
more to do with the travel/production costs for a once a week NHN(National Hockey
Night) affair.(ESPN-ABC owner,Capital Cities, is a company known for being
quite thrifty with minimal overhead costs. It's quite possible that Jim
Schoenfeld may be working for doughnuts :-).

Gary Thorne and Bill Clement are both NJ-based and the rest of ESPN crew
resides in the suburban CT with a very close proximity to tri-state area.
Plus,it makes sense in terms of solid hockey following in the NorthEast
corridor(PA-NY-NJ-DC/Maryland). Whereas,in the Adams you have only
3-American based teams, out of which 2(Buffalo and Hartford) are not
in Top-20  US TV-markets.


Here are four pseudo-random character generators, based on
irreducible trinomials.  Each contains 16 separate trinomials,
one of which is selected on initialization (there are 64
distinct trinomials between the 4 PRCGs).  The PRCGs are
initialized with a 32-bit seed, and a 4-bit trinomial-
selector.

I would like to get comments on these by anyone who is
interested enough to look them over.  Please email,
because our news is on the fritz (Note that this was
posted via email).

Peter K. Boucher    <boucher@csl.sri.com>

================ CLIP CLIP =================================

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Jonathan E. Quist, on the Thu, 15 Apr 1993 14:26:42 GMT wibbled:

: [lots of things, none of which are quoted here]

: >>>  You think your *average* dirt biker can jump
: >>>a 3 foot log?
: >
: >How about an 18" log that is suspended about 18" off of the ground?
: >For that matter, how about a 4" log that is suspended 2.5' off of the
: >ground?

: Oh, ye of little imagination.

:You don't jump over those -that's where you lay the bike down and slide under!
: --
: Jonathan E. Quist

The nice thing about horses though, is that if they break down in the middle of
nowhere, you can eat them.  Fuel's a bit cheaper, too.
--

Nick (the 90 HP Biker)   DoD 1069   Concise Oxford   Giddy-Up!

M'Lud.


henrik]  Country. Turks and Azeris consistantly WANT to drag ARMENIA into the
henrik]  KARABAKH conflict with Azerbaijan.

BM] Gimme a break.  CAPITAL letters, or NOT, the above is pure nonsense.  It
BM] seems to me that short sighted Armenians are escalating the hostilities
		     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
     Again, Armenians in KARABAKH are SIMPLY defending themselves. What do
     want them to do. Lay down their ARMS and let Azeris walk all over them.

BM] while hoping that Turkey will stay out.  Stop and think for a moment,
BM] will you?  Armenia doesn't need anyone to drag her into the conflict, it
BM] is a part of it.

Armenians KNEW from the begining that TURKS were FULLY engaged
training AZERIS militarily to fight against  KARABAKHI-Armenians.

henrik] The KARABAKHI-ARMENIANS who have lived in their HOMELAND for 3000
henrik] years (CUT OFF FROM ARMENIA and GIVEN TO AZERIS BY STALIN) are the
henrik] ones DIRECTLY involved in the CONFLICT. They are defending
henrik] themselves against AZERI AGGRESSION.

BM]  Huh?  You didn't expect Azeri's to be friendly to forces fighting with them
BM]  within their borders?

	Well, history is SAD. Remember, those are relocated Azeris into
        the Armenian LAND of KARABAKH by the STALIN regime.

henrik] At last, I hope that the U.S. insists that Turkey stay out of the
henrik] KARABAKH crisis so that the repeat of the CYPRUS invasion WILL NEVER
henrik] OCCUR again.

BM] You're not playing with a full deck, are you?  Where would Turkey invade?

   It is not up to me to speculate but I am sure Turkey would have stepped
   into Armenia if SHE could.

BM] Are you throwing the Cyprus buzzword around with s.c.g. in the header
BM] in hopes that the Greek netters will jump the gun?

	Absolutely NOT ! I am merely trying to emphasize that in many
        cases, HISTORY repeats itself.

BM] Yes indeed Turkey has the military prowess to intervene, what she wishes
BM] she had, however, is the diplomatic power to stop the hostilities and bring
BM] the parties to the negotiating table.  That's hard to do when Armenians
BM] are attacking Azeri towns.

	So, let me understand in plain WORDS what you are saying; Turkey
        wants a PEACEFUL END to this CONFLICT. NOT !!

	I will believe it when I see it.

	Now, as far as attacking, what do you do when you see a GUN pointing
        to your HEAD ? Do you sit there and WATCH or DEFEND yoursef(fat chance)?
	Do you remember what Azeris did to the Armenians in BAKU ? All the
	BARBERIAN ACTS especially against MOTHERS and their CHILDREN. I mean
	BURNING people ALIVE !

BM] Armenian leaders are lacking the statesmanship to recognize the
BM] futility of armed conflict and convince their nation that a compromise that
BM] leads to stability is much better than a military faits accomplis that's
BM] going to cause incessant skirmishes.

	Armenians in KARABAKH want PEACE and their own republic. They are
        NOT asking much. They simply want to get back what was TAKEN AWAY
	from them and GIVEN to AZERIS by STALIN.

BM] Think of 10 or 20 years down the line -- both of the newly independent
BM] countries need to develop economically and neither one is going to wipe
BM] the other out.   These people will be neighbors, would it not be better
BM] to keep the bad blood between them minimal?

	Don't get me WRONG. I also want PEACEFUL solution to the
	conflict. But until Azeris realize that, the Armenians in
	KARABAKH will defend themselves against aggresion.

BM] If you belong to the Armenian diaspora, keep in mind that what strikes
BM] your fancy on the map is costing the local Armenians dearly in terms of
BM] their blood and future.

	Again, you are taking different TURNS. Armenia HAS no intension
        to GRAB any LAND from Azerbaijan. The Armenians in KARABAKH
        are simply defending themselves UNTIL a solution is SET.

BM] It's easy to be comfortable abroad and propagandize
BM] craziness to have your feelings about Turks tickled.  The Armenians
BM] in Armenia and N-K will be there, with the same people you seem to hate
BM] as their neighbors, for maybe 3000 years more.  The sooner there's peace in
BM] the region the better it is for them and everyone else.  I'd push for
BM] compromise if I were you instead of hitting the caps-lock and spreading
BM] inflammatory half-truths.


This won't work if there is a checksum on the keys you don't know about.
Neither will registering a clipper chip and then substituting a
"counterfeit" one if the serial number contains a checksum.

Chances are the government has thought of this, and "just anyone" won't be
permitted access to enough of the internals to make a "fake" clipper chip.
Chances are that the government has classified some details of the internals
at a very high level, and manufacturers are required to observe security
safeguards and clearances corresponding to that level.

While not perfect, it would prevent Joe Hacker from rolling his own spoofing
chip, since not many counterfeiters can survive a background investigation.
Some of the more notorious self-styled dissidents here, for example, have
already got their heads so high above the tall grass that they'd have little
chance of getting a clearance.

Of course it's not impossible that someone do this, but probably extremely
difficult. Chances are there will also be very heavy criminal penalties for
phony clipper chips, on some national security/classified info grounds or
other, thus making the game not worth the candle.


Having run completely out of time, I've got to get my prophesies and
predictions for the A.L. out.  Qualifications -- one of the worse
finishes in last year's prediction contest.

AL East -- 1993

1.  Baltimore Orioles
Why the Orioles?  Well, I pondered long and hard, and it all came down to
this:
  -- The Blue Jays are going the wrong direction.
  -- Can't bring myself to pick the Yankees
  -- Milwaukee was a fluke
  -- Indians aren't ready to contend
  -- Red Sox were bad last year, and didn't get any better
  -- Detroit's pitching will be the new definition of "replacement level"
"But you don't really think the Orioles will win, do you."  No.  As a matter
of fact, I can't see any team in the American League winning either division
on paper (with the possible exception of the Yankees, who I hate).  But some-
body has to win, so I pick the Orioles.  "You don't really think that Brady
Anderson is going to repeat, do you?"  No.  I'm basing the Orioles prediction
on the expectation of big years from Cal Ripken and Glenn Davis.  "Glenn
Davis?  That's insane".  Yes.  So, without further ado:
STRONG POINTS:  Hoiles, Ripken some years, Olson, getting rid of Billy Ripken.
WEAK POINTS:  Segui may start.  Valenzuela (the original 30-something) may be
  the fifth starter.  Oates puts his best hitters at the bottom of the lineup.
  (Does anybody else think that might be a calculated maneuver to minimize
  the effect of a slumping Ripken?  If you can't move Ripken out of the #3
  spot, why not move the rest of the line up?)
WOULD BE A GOOD SIGN:  Glenn Davis wins comeback player of the year.
WOULD BE A BAD SIGN:  In a tight pennant race, team trades for Pecota.
ObPrediction:  "The Streak" continues.  Harold Reynolds leads the team in
  caught stealing.

2. New York Yankees.
STRONG POINTS:  Abbot, Key, Perez.  Could have best pitching in American
  League.  Boggs should improve on Hayes.
WEAK POINTS:  Mattingly still considered best hitter.  The Steinbrenner
  factor.  (The Yankees lost to the Mets.  Can wholesale changes be far
  behind?)  Never count on rookie pitchers (i.e. Wickman & Millitello) to
  win a division.
WOULD BE A GOOD SIGN:  Boggs hits over .300
WOULD BE A BAD SIGN:  Howe gets arrested again.
ObPrediction:  Mattingly won't top a 700 OPS.

3.  Toronto Blue Jays
STRONG POINTS:  Management willing to make big deals.  Management has eerie
  power to convince other teams its prospects are not suspects.  Olerud.
  Guzman.  Alomar.
WEAK POINTS:  The Jackson for Bell trade has shaken my faith in Gillick.
  Losing Stewart may hurt rotation (that's *really* a bad sign).  No one in
  the outfield can get on base.  Pitching is thin behind Guzman and Ward.
WOULD BE A GOOD SIGN:  Jack Morris considered Cy Young contender in August
WOULD BE A BAD SIGN:  Club makes no major deals in August.
ObPrediction:  Morris will post better ERA and WHIP totals than last year.  And
  have a losing record.

4.  Milwaukee Brewers
STRONG POINTS:  Pitching staff was exceptional -- last year.
WEAK POINTS:  Molitor gone.  Surhoff at third?  Why?  Eldred can't keep it up.
WOULD BE A GOOD SIGN:  Listach and Eldred play like last year.
WOULD BE BAD SIGN:  Bones plays like last year.
ObPrediction:  Surhoff won't finish the year at third.

5.  Cleveland Indians
STRONG POINTS:  Baerga, Belle, Nagy
WEAK POINTS:  Pitching staff thin -- losing Olin really hurts.  Starts Felix
  Fermin.
WOULD BE A GOOD SIGN:  Bielecki's ERA is consistent with his Atlanta starts.
WOULD BE A BAD SIGN:  Ted Power -- bullpen ace.
ObPrediction:  Alomar will be back on the DL by the all-star break.

6.  Boston Red Sox
STRONG POINTS:  Clemens, Viola, Clemens, Detroit, Clemens
WEAK POINTS:  Most incompetent GM in baseball.  Key free agent signing -- Andre
  Dawson.  Burks is gone -- Hatcher in center.
WOULD BE A GOOD SIGN:  Rainouts in between Clemens starts.
WOULD BE A BAD SIGN:  Clemens on the DL
ObPrediction:  Russell will make Sox fans forget Reardon.  Interpret that how
  you will :->

7.  Detroit Tigers
STRONG POINTS:  Tettleton, Phillips, Whitaker
WEAK POINTS:  If Fielder keeps declining, he'll be a shortstop this year.
  Worst rotation in baseball entirely replaced -- but not necessarily better.
  This year could be *very* ugly.
WOULD BE A GOOD SIGN:  Cecil Fielder deserving the MVP.
WOULD BE A BAD SIGN:  Cecil Fielder not whining about deserving an MVP.
ObPrediction:  Cecil *won't* lead the league in RBIs.

One more division to go....
--
Dale J. Stephenson |*| (steph@cs.uiuc.edu) |*| Baseball fanatic


Just a quick note about Manon's immediate future: Rumor has it(USA Today's spor
ts page) that she will be playing with Tampa Bay's affiliate in the ECHL(I Thin
k. It's been a couple of days. :)) She will supposedly be competing for the num
ber 2 goaltender spot.  I think, after her performance, which was damn good for
 someone who hasn't played squat all year, that we'll be seeing a lot more of h
er in Atlanta in the years to come.

Ward


Well, I was told that my last message came through without anything
in it, so I'll try again.

I have a Leading Edge 386SX 16 with a flaky motherboard and a friend
game me one to replace it, but he didn't have any docs for the
mother board.  It's a CHEERTRON board with Award bios and has a
sticker on it that says VI 1   T1 3  T2 3  on it.  I can tell what
most of the switches on the blue blocks mean.  except FDC and
SH, but I have no idea about all the jumpers.  I've replaced hard
drives and modems and installed math co-processes, but this is a
bit out of my league and without the docs, I'm really lost.

If anyone could give me some help on this, I'd really appreciate
it.  I don't get on news regularly, so if you can help, please
e-mail me at passman@world.std.com

Thanks.


The third-party media adapters are usually cheaper (at least in Toronto) than
Apple's. I bought the adapters from Asante instead of Apple.

That's not true. Only the DECstation 5000/200 comes with a Thinwire
(BNC, coaxial) Ethernet connector. The 5000/25, 5000/133 and 5000/240
all have a single 15-pin AUI Ethernet connector only. I distinctly
remembered this because when got the 5000/200 first and I thought all
of them are going to be Thinwire. I eventually had to go back and ordered
DESTAs (DEC's oversized version of an AUI-to-BNC adapter that MUST be used
with a transciever cable) for the rest of the stations.

My advise to the very original poster (Beverly?) is:

(1) If all you want is to create a LAN with two workstations and won't add
    machines to it EVER, go for Thinwire regardless of the media type. Going
    for UTP (unshielded twisted pair) wiring requires a concentrator which
    means extra money and I believe these units come with at least 6 ports.
    As for Thicknet, it's a nightmare and cabling is expensive. Avoid it
    unless you have no choice (e.g. the two machines are two floors parts).

(2) On the Mac side, you will need:
    - one Thinwire media adapter (from Apple or third-party).
    - MacX (make sure you get version 1.2; 1.1.7 won't run on System 7.1).
    - MacTCP (which comes with MacX; if you get MacX v1.2, you should be
      getting MacTCP v1.1.1 with it. Don't use earlier versions on a Centris).
    - you may or may not need a 25ohm terminator depending on the
      Thinwire media adapter. So just ask the sales if the adapter is
      self-terminated or not.
    - configure MacTCP to use "Ethernet".

(3) On the DECstation side, you will need:
    - for a Model 200, you will only need a T-connector.
    - for Models 25, 125, 133, 240, you will need an AUI-to-BNC adapter.
      Get one that can be plugged in directly to the AUI port of the
      DECstation. This way you save the cost of a transciever cable
      (a 15-pin AUI male to a 15-pin AUI female cable).
    - get a 25ohm terminator.

Your two-machine network will look like this:

       ##T----------------------------------------------[]
      +-----+                                           |
      |     |                                           |
      +-----+                                         +-----+
                                                      |     |
                                                      +-----+
    DECstation                                        Centris
     5000/200                                           650
                              OR

       ##T----------------------------------------------[]
        {=}                                             |
      +-----+                                           |
      |     |                                         +-----+
      +-----+                                         |     |
                                                      +-----+
    DECstation                                        Centris
5000/25,125,133,240                                     650

   ##    -> 25ohm terminator
   T     -> T connector
   ---   -> Thinwire (RG58 coaxial cable)
   {=}   -> AUI-to-BNC (i.e. Thick-to-Thin) adapter
   []    -> Thickwire media adapter (assuming self-terminated)
   |
   |

Andy


Okay... I argued this thoroughly about 3-4 weeks ago.  Men and women are
different ... physically, physiologically, and psychologically.  Much
recent evidence for this statement is present in the book "Brainsex" by
Anne Moir and David Jessel.  I recommend you find a copy and read it.
Their book is an overview of recent scientific research on this topic
and is well referenced.

Now, if women and men are different in some ways, the law can only
adequately take into account their needs in these areas where they are
different by also taking into account the ways in which men and women
are different.  Maternity leave is an example of this -- it takes into
account that women get pregnant.  It does not give women the same rules
it would give to men, because to treat women like it treats men in this
instance would be unjust.  This is just simply an obvious example of
where men and women are intrinsically different!!!!!

Now, people make the _naive_ argument that sexism = oppression.
However, maternity leave is sexist because MEN DO NOT GET PREGNANT.
Men do not have the same access to leave that women do (not to the same
extent or degree), and therefore IT IS SEXIST.  No matter however much a
man _wants_ to get pregnant and have maternity leave, HE NEVER CAN.  And
therefore the law IS SEXIST.  No man can have access to maternity leave,
NO MATTER HOW HARD HE TRIES TO GET PREGNANT.  I hope this is clear.

Maternity leave is an example where a sexist law is just, because the
sexism here just reflects the "sexism" of nature in making men and women
different.  There are many other differences between men and women which
are far more subtle than pregnancy, and to find out more of these I
recommend you have a look at the book "Brainsex".

Your point that perhaps some day men can also be pregnant is fallacious.
If men can one day become pregnant it will be by having biologically
become women!  To have a womb and the other factors required for
pregnancy is usually wrapped up in the definition of what a woman is --
so your argument, when it is examined, is seen to be fallacious.  You
are saying that men can have the sexist maternity leave privilege that
women can have if they also become women -- which actually just supports
my statement that maternity leave is sexist.

There is no official priesthood in Islam -- much of this function is
taken by Islamic scholars.  There are female Islamic scholars and
female Islamic scholars have always existed in Islam.  An example from
early Islamic history is the Prophet's widow, Aisha, who was recognized
in her time and is recognized in our time as an Islamic scholar.

You have no evidence for your blanket statement about all religions, and
I dispute it.  I could go on and on about women in Islam, etc., but I
recently reposted something here under the heading "Islam and Women" --
if it is still at your news-site I suggest you read it.  It is reposted
from soc.religion.islam, so if it has disappeared from alt.atheism it
still might be in soc.religion.islam (I forgot what its original title
was though).  I will email it to you if you like.

Your statement that "other religions are no different" is, I think, a
statement based simply on lack of knowledge about religions other than
Christianity and perhaps Judaism.

Aisha, who I mentioned earlier, was not only an Islamic scholar but also
was, at one stage, a military leader.

The Prophet's first wife, who died just before the "Hijra" (the
Prophet's journey from Mecca to Medina) was a successful businesswoman.

Lucio, you cannot make a strong case for your viewpoint when your
viewpoint is based on ignorance about world religions.


I live at sea-level, and am called-upon to travel to high-altitude cities
quite frequently, on business.  The cities in question are at 7000 to 9000
feet of altitude.  One of them especially is very polluted...

Often I feel faint the first two or three days.  I feel lightheaded, and
my heart seems to pound a lot more than at sea-level.  Also, it is very
dry in these cities, so I will tend to drink a lot of water, and keep
away from dehydrating drinks, such as those containing caffeine or alcohol.

Thing is, I still have symptoms.  How can I ensure that my short trips there
(no, I don't usually have a week to acclimatize) are as comfortable as possible?
Is there something else that I could do?

A long time ago (possibly two years ago) there was a discussion here about
altitude adjustment.  Has anyone saved the messages?

Many thanks,


I've borrowed the 1992-93 version of this book from a friend...holy
moley!  What a wealth of contacts.  Five-hundred pages of information
about electronic artists and organizations around the globe (many have
email addresses).  An up to the minute database of this information is
also available on Minitel (the book's based in France...are there any
Internet=>Minitel gates?).  The book is printed in French and English.

To have you or your organization listed in IDEA, just send your
information to:

Annick Bureaud
IDEA
57, rue Falguiere
75015 Paris
France

It's free to be listed in it, I'm not sure how widely distributed the
book is or how much it costs.  I'm not affiliated with them in any way,
I was just impressed by their collection of organizations and artists.
I highly encourage all involved in electronic media (video, music,
graphics, animation, etc.) to send in your entry and encourage them to
make their database available on Internet.

...e


Speaking as one who knows relativity and quantum mechanics, I say:
Bullshit.

Speaking as one who has taken LSD, I say:
Bullshit.

How could striving toward an ideal be in any way useful, if the ideal
had no objective existence?
--
Mark Pundurs


The title says it all.  Contact me via EMAIL if you would can help me out...

Mike Harpe
University of Louisville

P.S.  I KNOW IT IS DISCONTINUED.  I want someone who would like to sell
      an old copy.


Hello,
	I'm having problems printing SPANISH characters with WFW2.  I was using the Celtic True type which has the accented characters, and used insert symbol to put in in the document.  However, when I put it in the doc, I get a big square character, and then it prints out just the same (to my dismay, thinking that was just the way it worked).
Can anyone tell me if and how they have printed Spanish characters?  I know WP 5.1 has this built-in, but I do not recall ever seeing this option on WFW2.  HELP!
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------
  | Robert S. Dubinski |  Aliases include:  Robb, Regal, Sir, Mr., and I |
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------
  | Marquette University ||||||||||| Math / Computer Science Double-Major|
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------
  | Internet Address: 2A42Dubinski.vms.csd.mu.edu  |	Milwaukee, WI    |


The Centaur is controlled technology..
State Dept will not allow it to be used outside of US. Sorry.


Greetings. I received a reply stating that unless someone else
	confirms that the following company is operating, I should
	remove it from my lst:

	This is from the COMM_PCB.FAQ (commercial PCB makers).

	Also, I don't have time to get the FAQ onto the sci.answers
	because of what I like to refer to is "red tape" - after the
	finals, I'll see what I can do... in the mean-time, anyone know
	of an FTP site that wouldn't mind a 250K file? :-)

	And last, I have some new entries for the SIMUSOFT list (mostly
	commercial/institutional stuff) but was wondering: should I keep
	the restrictions on the price of the software to be considered ->
	under $600 or should I include all those in 4 digit prices also?

	Take care.


Is this a joke?  The legal way to serve a search warrant is to knock on
the door.  Tossing in a grenade to serve a search warrant violates the
US Constitution and is hence, illegal.  The BD complied with legal
search warrants in the past.  I do not understand why the BATF used an
illegal means to serve their search warrant last February.


Every bit as fast as a dirtbike, in the right terrain.  And we eat
flies, thank you.

then why does it go down?

So do most helmetless motorcyclists.

helmetless != goggleless


So long as we think that good things are what we *have* to do rather than
what we come to *want* to do, we miss the point. The more we love God; the
more we come to love what and whom He loves.

When I find that what I am doing is not good, it is not a sign to try
even harder (Romans 7:14-8:2); it is a sign to seek God. When I am aware
of Jesus' presence, I usually want what He wants. It is His strenth, His love
that empowers my weakness.


Every city and suburban police officer I've seen around the Twin Cities in the
last two years has carried a semi-auto of some type (different brands though
I haven't seen any Glock's).

With regard to this discussion:  We are getting dangerously far from the usual
rantings of t.p.g, and close to the realm of r.g, but I'd like to put my two
cents worth in.  While there's nothing wrong with a revolver (especially a
large frame S&W in .357 magnum - my favorite) there are valid advantages to
semi-autos.  I suggest reading Massad Ayoob's (I know, some people can't stand
him and think he's full of bull, but I think that in general his material is
very valid and useful) book _The Semi Auto Pistol in Police Work_ (or something
like that).  He defines a number of ways that semi-auto's are different, and that
"different is good".  The main advantage is not in increased firepower, but in
more accurate followup shots when you go to single action mode.  There is also a
certain "propriatory nature" of each gun that takes some familiarity to
learn.  This may have diminished with time as more criminals become familiar
with different models of semi-autos, but it was cited as stopping or at least
slowing down criminals who had grabbed a police officers gun.

Yes, but this is best done with a two hand hold.  With a single hand you either
pull the gun far off target to cock, or must fire double action.  The DA semi
auto has the same advantages plus is always SA after the first shot.

I'm not sure if this is meant to be different from your first point.  In a DA
semi-auto you can pull the trigger again to try dropping the hammer on the same
round - an advantage you don't have in a revolver where the next trigger pull will
always go to the next round (discussing this point now).  This is fine with a dud
but what about a hangfire situation?  Granted it's very rare, but your round will
now go off confined in the cylinder with no place to go.  Slingshotting the slide
on a misfire takes very little time.

Actually with modern revolver designs incorporating hammer blocks this is not
necessary or usually recommended.  A revolver would have to fall hard enough and
at the right angle to actually break the hammer and driver the firing pin into the
round to set it off.

The best speedloader users, especially those using the spring loaded speed
loaders are very fast.  A problem is that ejecting the spent cases is a two
handed job where dropping the expended magazine is one handed.  This means that
while you can be inserting a fresh magazine as soon as the old one clears the
gun, with a speed loader you have to go through more motions that will always
take more time.  You also don't have the advantage of tactical reloads (replacing
a partial magazine to bring you back to full capacity - the partial magazine can
still be used if needed later).

Yes, the time to recognize the problem is just as important as the time to clear
it.  Really though, in either a revolver or semi-auto the odds of an actual misfire
with factory ammo are awfully small.  You are more likely to get a jam in a semi-auto
but even these are exceptionally rare with modern quality guns (Sigs, Glocks, et.al.).

All common semi-auto's can be carried with a round in their chamber without any
safety problems.  While I put that out as a statement that I believe, I should
say that this applies to all of the ones I've looked at.  For the DA semi's it's
no different from the revolver situation:  The guns all have hammer or firing
pin blocks.  They also have a safety.  Because there's no real advantage
carrying one of these cocked and locked you have the same safety and speed
of employment as a revolver, plus the advantage of SA followup shots.  I'm
not familiar with SA semi-autos except for the 1911-A1.  I admit that I was
initially skeptical about carrying this cocked and locked, but after examining
the design, trying to defeat the safeties (gun unloaded of course), and
shooting it a lot, I see no inherent safety problems with it, especially in
a thumbreak holster with the strap under the hammer.  This design also gets
you more speed for an accurate first shot than a revolver.

Yeah, the infamous Glock.  I still can't figure out how it's worse than a revolver
for safety.  If you don't pull the trigger it doesn't go off.  I imagine that if all
your revolver shooting was done double action then you could pull the Glock trigger
far enough to fire before you realized it.  In addition, if you had developed that
nasty habit of keeping your finger on the trigger when holstering your gun and
relying on your thumb on the hammer to remind you to take it off before you blew
off your foot then you'd have problems when the hammer wasn't there.

I think this is even okay for a riot (as long as it's a small one B^)).

I have the poor man's Beretta (Taurus 99) and consider it inferior as a carry
weapon to the Springfield .45 (oops, 9mm vs. 45 arguments are relegated to
r.g).  You are right, though.  If you don't hit what you aim at then the
shooter/gun combination has failed.  I don't ascribe failures in the the
fire real fast with a wonder-nine scenario you mention to the gun.  This is
a shooter failure, whether through lack of discipline or lack of training.

9mm's are becoming more popular with crooks too, though the .38 does still
lead the list.  And like I said, around here semi-auto's seem the rule for the
street cop.  Don't know about the State Patrol however, they may still carry
the "Highway Patrolman".

Vincent, please don't take any of this as a flame.  Just my $0.02 (whoops, looks more
like $2.00) worth.  And much of it is IMHO, but do check Ayoob's book.


Is there another book.  I have this one and don't find it helpfull in
learning Spice.  It would make a good reference book but I found it lacking
for learning Spice.  Are there any others?

Craig


 Well, if you put things into historical perspective, the Turks
 moved into an area, which was inhabited by Greeks.  This is how the history
 between the two nations started some centuries ago.  Since then, it has been
 a continuous battle between the two nations.  From my perspective I can't see
 why I should say that Greeks have been responsible for what has happened
 between the two nations.  Of course, it would not be reasonable to argue that
 the hostility should drag till we kick the Turks out of this area.  This isn't
 going to happen, so the best would be to improve the relations between the two
 countries.  A golden oportunity exists with Cyprus.  If things can't work
 there, there isn't any possible way that could work between our nations.

 I always avoid to discuss such things.  I consider it a waist of my time.
 Besides, as I said, I do not want to open a new flame.

 I thought it was a smart move to receive more money from Greek tourists.
 I bet that this week there should be about 200,000 tourists from Greece
 in Turkey.  Each one will leave at least $1,000 so go and figure what this
 means to your economy.  If you had kept the visa requirement, how many
 Greeks would bother to visit Turkey?

 Come on. Do not extrapolate from your limited personal experience.  You err
 if you think you'd get a reasonable conclusion.


Yes, I am pro-gun, and yes, I do disagree with this statement.
Nuclear weapons in and of themselves are dangerous.  Radioactive
decay of plutonium and uranium, as well as the tritium in the
weapon, tends to be somewhat dangerous to living things.
(Can you say "neutron flux"?)  Plus these things have no self-
defense purposes.  It's kinda hard to justify their use as
a militia weapon when at best they are meant for battlefield use
(low-yield weapons) or at worst for industrial target obliteration
(translation:  cities and population centers).  Not to mention that
for it to be used as a militia weapon and expect the user to live
requires some sort of launch vehicle . . .