I JUST WANNA SAY . . .

. . . that the maniac we'll forever know as Cho was a miserable, suicidal, self-loathing lost soul. Who felt that half the world was out to get him, and the other half ignored him. And like many lost souls, he wished he could do something that would cause the world to know him: to understand his pain, to know his name, to remember him.

And in the irony of ironies, he's succeeded in that regard beyond his wildest expectations. I'm not saying the networks shouldn't have run the videos and showed the pictures, etc. But the fact remains, they're doing for this lunatic exactly what he'd hoped for in the depths of his sickest fantasies. Like Charles Whitman, like Idi Amin, like Adolph Hitler, a lonely, deranged individual has earned eternal notoriety by committing the most depraved acts imaginable.

We'd like to snicker at his call to "all my children," but deep down we know there are others like him in the world. Perhaps they've now heard the clarion call. Perhaps they now know there is a way to be noticed, to be heard.

I won't say I'm scared or even very worried, but I've never feared copycat crimes as much as I do now.