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On February 17, at Dulles International Airport outside of Washington, DC, a young Nigerian terrorist named Farouk Abdul al Faisal attempted to board United Airlines flight 1497 to Stuttgart, Germany. He had eluded detechtion by the FBI, and was not on the Terrorist Watch List. He seemed to have succeeded in his aims.

Al Faisal had not counted on an alert TSA employee, as none had been encountered before. TSA agent Michael Trabinney noticed that Faruouk’s cheeks were puffed out strangely. He pulled the young African aside for further screening and discovered in his mouth a condom filled with black powder and a detonator. Trabinney sounded the alarm and Farouk was arrested. The Department of Homeland Security immediately closed the airport for three days, saying that, since the terrorist was in custody and posed no further threat, extreme measures were necessary. Travel snarled around the world as flights were diverted or canceled.

Janet Napolitano, the chief of DHS, said in a press conference that the event “showed the lengths to which enemies of our freedoms will go. In order to keep Americans safe, the Department will initiate mouth exams on all boarding passengers. Henceforth no condoms will be allowed on board.”

A contract for three billion dollars was issued to buy latex detectors, and an additional agent was added at each security gate in the nation, at a salary of sixty thousand dollars a year. They told barefoot passengers to “Say ah.”

President Obama, according to some being worried about seeming soft on national security, announced that he would talk with his counterparts in other countries about requiring oral exams, and would fund research into automated ah-scanners. Manufacturers of dental equipment received development contracts totaling $1.2 billion.

The new measures went relatively smoothly, though there were isolated glitches. A woman with a broken jaw wired shut was pulled out of line, interrogated for hours, and arrested for refusing to answer questions except to say “Ummm, ummm.” A TSA agent at Houston International, hired under federal affirmative-action guidelines, confiscated a latex glove, saying that it looked like a multiple-use condom and you never could be too careful with terrorists.

Following the implementation of the new measures, airline traffic fell five percent.

Then in early June a fifteen-year-old K*D in Dubuque posted, to an Egyptian website, under the name of Sheik Wasabi, a disturbing story. While in Cairo, said “Sheik Wasabi,” he had met a radical Islamic plastic surgeon who was fitting female martyrs with explosive breast–implants. The teenager then forgot about his post, having received a new X Box. However, some thirty people saw the post and called the FBI, which ignored them.

Finally Maxwell Bjorn, president of the instrument-manufacturer Artful Devices Inc., called Janet Napolitano directly. He had done the calculations, he said. A D-cup could unquestionably bring down an airliner. The only way to protect our democracy, he said, would be either to install automated palpators, or use x-rays. Fortunately for America his firm happened to have suitable designs, at $2.2 million each.

Napolitano chose x-rays, reasoning that while ugly women might prefer palpation, others would find it invasive.

The American Medical Association prepared a brief arguing that the radiation would raise cancer rates, particularly in frequent fliers. The surgeons in the membership scotched the brief, viewing it as being in restraint of trade.

Napolitano defended the new machines on national television, telling the country that, “cancer rates would go up slightly, but freedom isn’t free. It has a price. Throughout the history of our great nation, patriots have given their lives to defend our way of life. We too must be willing to bear the burden.” She then flew to an appointment in a private Citation.

Passenger traffic fell fifteen percent. Napolitano said that this was a good thing, as “it gives our enemies fewer targets. We must make it as difficult as possible to attack our freedoms.”

For a while, terror seemed to have been defeated. Distant events changed the situation drastically.

In Afghansitan, the CIA ran drone strikes against Moslems from a remote and secret base in rural Helmand. Day after day the Predators took off to blow up villages that might or might not harbor a terrorist, thus protecting our freedoms. The base employed a young Afghan driver, Abdul al Hafetz. For reasons of security Abdul was always patted down carefully when he came on base, though he had worked for the Agency for over a year.

On the fourth of October, a month since his sister had been killed by a drone strike on her wedding day, Abdul drove up to the gate of the base. He was patted down. As always, nothing untoward was found. He walked into the main building and blew up in a shattering explosion that left thirteen drone operators dead.

None of the Americans in Afghanistan could think of a reason for this senseless act of carnage. The depth of Islamic hatred of our freedoms was simply incomprehensible.

Investigators wanted to know how he had smuggled the explosives into the compound. There was not enough left of Abdul to answer the question. The blast had been powerful. The volume of explosive necessary would have been far to great to have slipped past a careful pat-down. The possibility was considered that a drone-operator had mistaken the compound for a birthday celebration and attacked it. This didn’t make sense, though, because the roof had clearly blown upward. The detonation had come from within.

The true explanation was chilling. In what was thought to be an al Quaeda safe house in Kabul, there was found a manual explaining the mystery. An extremist who hated our democracy could swallow a dozen balloons containing in aggregate over three kilograms of pentaerythryitol tetranitrate, or PETN. A detonator built into a watch would cause it to explode. In a sense, the new technique should have been expected. Drug smugglers had long used the same means to get drugs past customs.

Janet Napolitano rose to the occasion. She called a press conference and said, “these are difficult times and al Quaeda’s continuing assault on our way of life makes sacrifices necessary. Starting today, all passengers will have their stomachs pumped prior to boarding. This will include pilots and cabin crew. We cannot let our democracy be destroyed by extremists.”

Twenty-seven airliners that had flown to Europe refused to come back, and overall air traffic dropped forty-six percent. Upon Napolitano’s pro-active announcement that automated rectal exams would be instituted to further protect our freedoms, traffic fell another ten percent, except in San Francisco.

Over the next two months, seven airlines declared bankruptcy and went into chapter eleven. Most foreign airlines announced that they would no longer fly to the United States. Boeing was ordered by TSA to retrofit automatic wrist-restraints on existing aircraft, and Artful Devices, Inc. won a twelve billion dollar contract for an integrated explosive-sniffer, puff-analyzer, millimeter-wave panty-viewer, shoe-x-rayer, stomach pump, CAT-scanner and nitrate-sniffing automated dildo. Our freedoms, at last, were safe

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The difference between a Sea Story and a Fairy Tale is that a Fairy Tale starts out 'Once Upon a Time..' and a Sea Story starts out 'This is no Shit...'

(export version only, some restrictions may apply, some assembly required, not valid where the sun don't shine...

if you live in the states of Poverty, Darkness or anywhere outside of The Blessings of Civilization Trust, Inc...other rules may apply)

You are good. you write some dam good story...

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"THE TRUTH IS' EVERYBODY IS GOING TO HURT YOU. YOU JUST GOTTA FIND THE ONE WORTH SUFFERING FOR"
Robert Nesta Marley

I did not write that, it was written by the famous Fred...Fred on Everything



he has a blog


http://www.fredoneverything.net/FOE_Frame_Column.htm

http://www.fredoneverything.net/

here's one from his days in chicago






Dead-End K*ds

Discouragement Outside Chi-Town





Sometimes the K*ds get to you. I was riding with the Cook County Sheriff’s anti-gang unit sometime back. We were driving through the hopeless fourth-generation welfare towns that surround Chicago - Markham, Robbins, Ford Heights, what have you.

These drab little burgs are almost entirely black, heavily dependent on public assistance of one sort or another. The schools are lousy. Nobody is much interested in school anyway. Jobs are scarce, and people are scarcely interested. The main commerce is in drugs.

That night our idea was to put pressure on the drug trade and maybe reduce it a bit. Drugs are dominated by gangs. While chasing them doesn’t stop the flow of drugs - nothing does that - it makes it harder for them completely to dominate and terrorize the towns.

For the most part we were catching buyers. These were generally blue-collar whites buying small rocks.

The technique was to have a cop hide and watch the projects where the dealing occurred. We accomplished this from a junkyard across the streets from the “jets,” as cops called the projects. The owner didn’t want the drug trade near his business and let us peek through a hole in the high board fence that surrounded the junkyard. Across the road a car would pull in, the cop would see something change hands and radio the rest of the unit. When the suspect was some distance from the project, so as not to alert the dealers that they were being watched, the officers would pull the car over and make the arrest.

After a while, we decided to try to catch the dealers.

This is harder. They may not know where they are being watched from, but they know they are somehow under surveillance. To ameliorate this problem, they have the customers drive into the project so as to conceal the exchange. The dealers never have drugs on their persons. Instead they send a small K*D, too young to be prosecuted, to get the stuff when a buyer drives up. This makes it almost impossible to catch the actual dealers.

We gave it a try anyway, rolling suddenly in between the buildings where the recon guy had seen sales. The apartments were low, two stories usually, and not really bad housing, if kept up. Most public housing is decent enough, if not destroyed by the occupants,

The cops checked out the dealers who we had seen going up to cars. Nothing. That was to be expected. Occasionally you get lucky.

The place was swarming with small K*ds. They were colorfully dressed, didn’t look particularly poor, and ran around all over the place the way K*ds do. They stared at us as if we were space men. The adults obviously didn’t like us. The K*ds thought we were fascinating.

Not yet having imbibed their parents’ hostility toward authority, and particularly white embodiments of authority, they asked the usual K*D questions. “You ever shoot a robber?” And so on. They were nice tykes, curious about things, not intimidated.

While the gangbangers stood around watching—they knew the police couldn’t do anything to them at this point—the cops checked out likely hiding spots for drugs: under rocks, in grass by fences, on brick ledges. Nothing.

It was strange to see the contrast between the eagerness of the K*ds to meet a real po-leese man and the contempt of the gang members, the blank-eyed stares they affect. It wasn’t pleasant to know that in a decade the wide-eyed tykes would be the drug dealers. K*ds look up to their big brothers, however unwisely, and want to imitate them. The dealers would let the junior crew work first as lookouts, or let them go get drugs from stashes. Step by step they would be swallowed by the drug trade. The girls would end up pregnant and on welfare. This is the pattern. And there is nothing in these sad towns to prevent it. Ten years, twenty years from now the same cycle will play itself out, again and again, unless something happens that no one can imagine.

We left, the adults staring at us with no affection.

The unit had caught a half dozen buyers, who might or might not do jail time, which in all likelihood would accomplish nothing for them or society. The dealers would continue dealing. In one of these towns, on another trip, I saw a guy dealing whom I’d watched being arrested the day before. He bonded out and went back to work. A couple of the Ch*ldren waved at us as we drove away. In a couple of years they would stop doing that.

The question is what to do about it. Cops know as well as I do that all we are doing is keeping a problem under a degree of control. We aren’t solving it. Cops don’t like to see K*ds on the assembly line that creates criminals, but they can’t fix things.

Another day at the office.

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The difference between a Sea Story and a Fairy Tale is that a Fairy Tale starts out 'Once Upon a Time..' and a Sea Story starts out 'This is no Shit...'

(export version only, some restrictions may apply, some assembly required, not valid where the sun don't shine...

if you live in the states of Poverty, Darkness or anywhere outside of The Blessings of Civilization Trust, Inc...other rules may apply)

Fred's columns facinate me. He has a way of uncovering all the nasty kernels of truth and stupidity in the world today.

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Providing humanitarian assistance to self employed chicas, one cash grant at a time.