COLUMN: The monkeys of peace
We live in turbulent times. America is bombing the crap out of all things bin Laden, while he’s out in the desert somewhere sitting cross-legged on a beach blanket, making home videos to remind us we are the devil. He didn’t just hijack some planes – he hijacked our lives.
People can’t sneeze anymore without being quarantined and tested for anthrax. And air travel, well, it’s still frustrating and uncomfortable. At least they’ve found a cure for air rage: The F-16 – and the possibility if you’re too impolite, you just might get shot down.
I’m not kidding. On Monday, two F-16 fighter jets scrambled to intercept an American Airlines jet flying from Los Angeles to Chicago. According to eyewitnesses, a deranged young man with a history of mental illness decided to try his hand at flying the plane. He made his way to the front, forced his way into the cockpit and attempted to pull the copilot from the controls – all the while shouting, “Look out the window. Save the Sears Tower. Save yourselves.”
The captain radioed in they were being hijacked and the air force responded by dispatching two fighter jets at supersonic speeds to intercept and presumably shoot down the airliner. Eventually, the boy’s own father and two other men subdued him and the flight was escorted safely to the ground.
When will this madness end so we can all return to the everyday, run-of-the-mill insanity which makes our nation so American? I miss the incessant whining of the left and the insufferable chest pounding of the right.
I miss the special interests whose voices have been swallowed up in the new national resolve. Where have you gone Greenpeace? Are you still out there somewhere scrubbing otters and annoying whalers? If so, can you tell me where to find the gay rights movement, the World Bank haters and the skinheads?
It’s hard to find a news article which doesn’t have something to do with the war on terrorism. Still, if you look past the police state, you can still see America – the America we were all living in before the 11th. Take, for instance, the following story.
It took place last week in Albuquerque, N.M. On Thursday, at around 1 a.m., a helicopter piloted by two police officers landed in a field next to the local Krispy Kreem. As the pilot waited, the other officer ran into the building, bought some donuts and returned to the helicopter. Shortly after, the pair took off and resumed their patrol. The locals were outraged and the police department is up to its elbows in damage control – trying its best to reassure the taxpayers that using a helicopter for donut runs (at an approximate cost of $80 per hour) is not a common practice.
In days past, this brazen act would have caused us to sigh and pontificate knowingly about the ills of government waste. Now, it’s nice just to have something other than terrorism to talk about.
It’s good to know there is a peacetime America waiting for us at the end of this conflict. And while the two police officers in question probably deserve to be put on some kind of donut-restricted diet, it’s nice to know that somewhere out there, muffled by the dogs of war, the monkeys of peace are waiting to resume their chatter.