I suppose people walk the Earth who assume that just because an egg has no evidence of a crack, it can't be rotten inside. No, I'm not referencing the Obama bunch -- that floating egg rolled into the White House, replete with an uninterrupted series of cracks and rot on day one.
Andreas Lubitz, Germany's 27-year-old co-pilot for Lufthansa's subsidiary, Germanwings until introducing himself, his passengers, crew and fuselage to a crash meeting with the French Alps last week, apparently hid the fact that he was one sick puppy. How many medications, prescribed or not, was he wolfing down (or, again, not) which might have driven him over a perilous edge?
Or have new brains rolled into town?
This, I mention because I've spent some time over the years, casually checking ages on various news reports, where the guilty or the foolish often carry an age of 27 or 28. Just as some researchers suggest that young brains are being reprogrammed due to frequent interaction with electronic devices and extensive involvement in video games, I wonder whether a new attitude of devil-may-care has taken over some minds. To elaborate, one's sense of reality may be altered, perhaps causing even a young pilot to sacrifice his exceptional responsibility in the skies for simmering anger, video gaming from his past or a dark intruder conjured from the subconscious. Maybe existence, death and life themselves, become one and the same for a brief time, and smashing a plane and its occupants into a mountain range just doesn't matter. Rage? Psychosis? An individual's future of doing what he likes at stake? Just an immature little twit, now alleged to have been a fan of gay and twisted sex and suicide Web sites? Make 'em pay?
Looks like, make 'em pay.
New brains in a little place, undetectable on any map, called Crazytown?
Lubitz's action could be as simple, as is now suggested, as a young man making an ill-advised decision to gain international fame forever as a monster, rather than trying to survive as a master pilot whose dark side and maladies (including depression and visual problems) would eventually be discovered by airline management, probably to his detriment. Notes from the doctor, telling you no, no, no? Screw it, that's what shredders are for, to accentuate life's palette with drab hues of yes, yes, yes. Feeling better? Go be famous. Make 'em pay as you go away, far away.
Don't rule out mechanical airplane failure , suggest critics. Well, failure can cover a lot of ground.
How casual some people have become, insistent upon ending their dreams in the violence of an instant, yet having the presence of mind to depart with unwilling companions, no questions asked.
Funny how instant gratification often goes better than instant disappointment. Pop some pills or tweak your mind until it falls off the track, and suddenly your brain flips onto automatic pilot. Maybe.
Flight lessons. Youth. Computers and hand-held devices and electronic living. Other people and failed or impossible relationships. Psychologists and psychiatrists and this-ists and that-ists.
Which came first, the chicken or the cracked egg?
Yes, brains seem to be changing, and who would dare suggest these evolving alterations will provide a virtue for the era yet to arrive?
Okay, yeah, so make sure other countries do like the USA and have two people in the cockpit at all times, and then if one goes nuts the other can go frantic trying to avoid the hatchet aimed for his or her head. Then again, what if the pilot and co-pilot are both bonkers and they decide to take the plunge together? So then you add a third person to keep an eye on the first two, who then kill the third person so they can get on with their mutual suicidal plan, or the third person turns out to be secretly nuts and murders the other two with said hatchet. Dunno, maybe you just take the cabin door off its hinges and throw it out the emergency exit while in flight so the whole plane full of passengers can attempt to enter and monitor the two pilots, though one doubts emergency oxygen masks will reach that far. But could the situation be any worse without the protective door, since terrorists now seem the least of everybody's worries in the sky?
Won't you come home
Bill Bailey, Bo Bergdahl,
won't you come home? If you're
on the youthful side, you won't know these were lyrics from a popular old --
real old -- song. I thought it
appropriate to make the name change because the U.S. Army deserter is indeed
home now, having languished and/or lived it up with the Taliban for four years,
following his desertion in the Middle East which ultimately caused the deaths
of four servicemen who attempted to locate and save him. I'm grateful there are still enough judicial
gonads left in the stateside Army under Obama's horrifying guidance to speak
the truth and call Bergdahl out for what he is, a deserter. We suspect he will get life or a few years in
prison, but we also suspect he'll be back out on the streets sooner than we
imagine, whether by trick or treat.
Remember, the Obama bunch's darling, Susan Rice initially referred to
Bergdahl as serving his country with "honor and distinction," and if
that were true in any way, I guess those standards would make me eligible for
the Congressional Medal of Honor, with my statue in the town square just
because I served for four years. Thing
is, if Bergdahl ever gets released back into American society -- or deservedly
remanded for life to the federal prison system -- he'll have to watch his back
because there are always folks out there who believe it their sacred duty to
settle up, depending upon the circumstances, and I think those groups or
individuals represent both the civilian and undercover government aspects of
life. Far-fetched? Be sure of one thing: I'll bet there exists, right now, one hell of
a community of soldiers wishing they could give Bergdahl a good old-fashioned
party -- that is, a blanket party.
With ice on the rocks.
The pope will crash the United States in September, and then buddy up with Obama to urge more immigration and, obviously, increased taxpayer payoffs to the world's unwashed. My preference? Let the pope in, feed him one of those pizzas he craves, have a few laughs, put him up at a Motel 6 for a day, wave goodbye and then send him off to Mexico where they'll love him for everything he said that's destined to cost U.S. taxpayers. (The best thing the pope can do here and everywhere is to emphasize the ongoing murders by the hundreds of thousands of defenseless Christians by Islamists dedicated to the brutality of Islam the world over.)
As next year's elections draw near, make it a point NOT to donate to either the Democrat or Republican parties. Instead, contribute to the candidates of your choice, dealing directly with their specific donor Web sites. Increasingly, Americans are through with political party power, money and influence. Look where it's taken us.
Back home in Indiana: Today seems to be mine for quoting old song titles, but this one's suitable because Indiana's "Religious Freedom Restoration Act" signed by Governor Mike Pence has all the usual suspects in an uproar. Based upon laws in several other states -- and reportedly drawn from legislation originally introduced by Lord Obama himself -- a plethora of morons who believe in teaching tolerance until they're the ones who need the learnin' themselves are just peeing their pants over this one. The Especially Offended seem to be those who care little or nothing about an individual's constitutional rights, and they seem all the more terrified because other states may yet follow with legislation that wouldn't be necessary at all if the voices of morons screaming discrimination weren't so prevalent. The truth is, there is no discrimination involved with the new law and, if anything, it strives to prevent discrimination and assure fairness.
However, for some the issue is whether a bakery owned by folks with legitimate religious beliefs should be forced to sell wedding cakes for gay ceremonies. If they refuse, as has already happened, the government lawsuits emerge and outrageous fines are levied upon store owners simply for standing up when religious convictions butt heads with courtroom convictions.
All the fuss over what constitutes discrimination became heightened after the gay issue took center stage. I admit, without reservation, that I myself supported and wrote letters to officials in support of gay people serving in the military. I did this not because of some crazy notion about destroying the military -- I did it because I've served in the military and realize all too well that (surprise!) gay men and women already serve proudly, effectively and, I've little doubt, in substantial numbers. Thing is, until military laws were changed, there were few willing to come out of the uniformed closet. As 2015 breezes on, and last I heard, the openly gay thing has not ruined the U.S. military services. Nor has it in other countries long welcoming of gay military personnel.
But here's where I differ. When homosexuals and gay subjects began sprouting all over the country like wildflowers a few years ago, particularly when the gay military matter was settled, the wisest thing gay people could have done was to play it low-key, not instead -- and I know this was only the vocal minority -- throwing the whole gay world into everybody's face and, not to sound obscene, grinding it in as if with sandpaper. This approach gained little sympathy among heterosexuals, but certainly outraged many among the public who would have been more or less okay with the situation except for the loud, boisterous bunch insisting upon instant acceptance 24/7, dedicated to shotgun pronouncements of equality somehow beyond equality.
Years ago, the morning mail brought some little ad from a group seeking donations, and they sent along a sheet of name & address labels upon which the words, Teach Tolerance appeared on the left side of each tiny sticker. No, I didn't contribute, but I did cut those words off and used the labels, anyway. I think I trashed the tolerance words because they reminded me too much of diversity training, which, to my mind, exists primarily to frighten, intimidate, grow racial divisions and attempt to convince good people that they need to feel inferior and act subservient in order to get along with people who, truth be told, may not deserve so much as an ounce of respect.
We hope the new law in Indiana will go a long way toward providing real fairness, and lessen threats from people who have no other function in life but to sue because they feel perpetually wronged by way of fantasy synapses emerging from their own bonkers brain tissue.
Oh, and Iran is not our friend. (I just wanted to reaffirm an elementary principle apparently still undetected at the White House.)