THEY SAY HE'S 16. say in dead of they really do say this, the dead of night ?he sneaks to attic, planned or unplanned nobody yet knows, he lifts his daddy's squirrel its case, then sneaks back down with it, carefully opens door to room in which they're sleeping, and blasts them out of this life, one shot to temple each, in quick succession. The neighbors are interviewed, . . shocked a wonderful boy he loved his parents. Then camera brings him into its painfully clear-edged imagery. He's seated behind a desk at headquarters, confused by himself, by everything and everyone. He doesn't look over 12, a limp rag doll of a child, being questioned for parricide. Skyler and I are at Sarah's and Eric's. Change channel! What we'd wanted was mild diversion floating in over our afternoon beers. There's TV snow and lightningbolts; then, a couple of numbers up or down dial, news is into its loonier wrap-up phase: There was three of them, three feet high. was green. trucker spotted them trotting down a play ground-slideish gangplank from a silver ship. It looked like, you know ... . . shark's fin fitted with lateral wings, one other observer, a priest, chimes in. priest? They peered around, returned to ship, and took off. That's all. I think they were trying to bring us a message. Tonight, while Skyler's asnooze, I'm up with a book. It says, in voice of classical lamentation, A man looks on his own son as his enemy. The heart is aggressive, blood is everywhere, no office functions properly. The rich wake poor, poor wake rich, land whirls around like a pot ter's wheel. Verily. The television yeasayeth this with every snoopy cam corder shot of a Presidential rally or a weekend convention of skateboard and dirtbike enthusiasts. Some group of PTA sex education fanatics, cos tumed ? la birds and bees. Some show of support for a local pastor in jail on charges of fondling a 10-year-old girl. The remains of an airliner: yes, a three member suicide squadron smuggled a plastic gun on board in six unrecognizable segments. Everywhere men are killed wrongfully. This text, however, is Egyptian Old Kingdom ?2500 b.c. Some nights ?this isn't first time I've consulted it after overmuch media brouhaha?its cannily contempo applicability leaves me shaking my