Terrorism, Flight 253, Muslims, Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab, & YOU

By J.R. Junior

Seriously? The threat of being blown up on an airplane scares you to a point that you basically ask for your rights and privilege of privacy to be revoked? There are more serious facets that will kill you that you actually fight to sustain. It is still illegal to have cheaper drugs that could save your life shipped to the U.S. from foreign nations; not because they're unsafe, but because it would be direct competition for bloodthirsty American companies. Factories release poisonous chemicals into the air, water, and soil are still causing illnesses, such as cancer, to residents of places like Mossville, Louisiana.

You are still fighting against the government regulating such practices, using b.s. terms like "government takeover", while accepting the average citizen being subjected to more regulation. You ask the government to spy on you and your family in an attempt to weed out "terrorists", yet it doesn't strike a nerve that the Federal Reserve still does not have to answer to the Federal government or undergo auditing. It doesn't bother you that the Pentagon's finances are so misconstrued that no one knows what is done with the trillions of dollars given to the Pentagon from the government from the money that was lent to the U.S. at interest.

You are concerned with the 1 in over 1,000,000,000,000 chance that a stupid kid who practices a different religion than yourself is going to blow up the airplane you may have boarded; even though you rarely fly. How about the thousands of trips you take to the various stores per year--avoiding the millions of car crashes to buy processed food with poisons injected into them (Let's not forget about the delicious alcohol and cigarettes you must pick up...)?

So, next time you're leaving the airport, finally firing up that cigarette, and thanking Jesus Christ that Ahmed Muhammed Hussein did not cause your plane to explode, make sure your seat belt is tightly strapped; Father Daniels may be receiving oral sex from a nine year old--distracted just enough to slam into your door at 45 miles per hour. Wake Up & Smell The B.S.