The tyrannical President stood on the podium taking questions from the boot-licking press, answering in his usual glib, superior way.
Then a new-comer stood up and said, in a deep, powerfully resonant voice that had no need of mic or speaker,
“By the standard of man’s life on earth I morally damn your lying, scheming, nakedly evil self! I damn you to the roots of your traitorous, anti-American soul! I damn you for aiding and abetting America’s enemies! I damn you for catering to that foulest of foul things—Islam! And I damn you for your baseness in choosing to be less than a man!
You are repugnant in the eyes of morality; you are repugnent to every honest, hardworking man and woman; you are repugnant, abhorrent, loathsomne, repellent and detestable!”
The powerful moral certainty of that voice struck men like a tidal wave of indomitable steel, while the man’s dark eyes bored through the quavering President. In one bold stroke the man had made himself master. Then, as the President feebly attempted to respond, a young reporter,sitting in the front row, reached over and pulled the plug that led from the loudspeaker. The President’s lips moved, but no one heard more than a squeak. Then the tall, hard man with the dark hair and dark eyes, said, his resonant voice booming off the walls of the hall and through the membranes of every eardrum, “This press conference is over. If you value your lives you will report all that you have seen and heard here these past few minutes. I’m not sure that the TV stations will broadcast it. They might not have the honesty or the guts. The President is scum. Let him rot in his own moral baseness!”
When he turned and walked out, a growing wave of reporters followed.