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.)
