I would like very much to direct your attention to two posts in particular at meteorologist Mike Smith’s blog. Mr. Smith points to various naked emperors with multi-billion-dollar clothing allowances.
There are real concerns about the American way of life that are not being properly addressed while security theater provides no security, makes puppets of the masses, and enriches parasites. I don’t know about you, of course, but this annoys me (in the same sense – and for some of the same reasons – that the villagers were annoyed by Herr Doktor Frankenstein’s little experiment).
“Where … is … my … daughter?” Thomas demanded yet again.
Harmonee, the ticket agent, tried to remain professional despite wanting to yell at the customer at her desk.
“We are still tracking her down, sir. Please have a seat and we will let you know as soon as we find out.”
“I will not sit down! I want to know where your airline’s idiots in Houston sent my daughter!”
Mayor Harvey Pendleton banged his gavel a dozen more times. “Order! Order! I said, ‘Order!'”
The sanctuary, the largest available room in town other than the saloon, came to something like a hush.
“Now I know everyone’s upset, and I know most of you have never been to a town meetin’ in your lives, but there are rules about how this works. First and foremost is you speak when you’re spoken to and not otherwise. If you want to talk, you raise your hand and wait until I call on you, just like back in school. That’s the only way this can work.”
He cleared his throat and lowered his voice just a little. “Now,” he said, and he paused, thinking of what to say next. “Now. I know that everyone’s still atwitter about what happened last Tuesday. It was a dark day when the Fu Shi Gang came to our town and burned the hotel and shot all those folks. Why, I’d known some of them for years myself.” He cleared his throat again. “It’s hard. Hard losin’ ’em to that rotten rabble of Chinese.”