Christmas Day, 2009, the "underwear bomber" boarded flight 253 in Amsterdam, bound for Detroit. That part you seem to remember.
And that's why you are just passively sighing over the atrocities being performed hourly at every major airport in this country.
What you seem to have forgotten was this: the US State Department KNEW that Mutallab, the Nigerian who tried to blow up his underpants, was involved with al-Qaeda in Yemen. They purposely and consciously chose to NOT revoke his visa - they thought it might scare him off.
You've seem to have forgotten that intelligence agencies from the CIA and FBI to MI5 and the Israeli Mossad, all admitted that they KNEW that there were plans to blow up airliners with explosives hidden where the sun don't shine. They knew, for a fact, that these plans were coming out of the Yemen.
You seem to have forgotten that Mutallab's own father went directly to the CIA with his concerns about his son's terrorism associations and the MI5 also told the CIA directly about what kind of threat this man posed back in 2008.
And incredibly, you have forgotten that eyewitnesses actually watched Mutallab completely bypass security at the airport in Amsterdam. He didn't even have to show a passport! Does Kurt Haskell or the "sharply dressed man" ring any bells?
Come on people. What the hell is wrong with you? You've been completely fleeced AGAIN, and "they" didn't even have to try very hard.
I really don't get it - it's as if you enjoy being treated like criminals. It's as if you like the idea of becoming a slave to totalitarian government. Do you like the idea of being bombarded with cancer-causing radiation and felt up by poorly trained rent-a-cops? Does it make you "feel safe"?
I don't know what you've been drinking, people, but it sure isn't what I've been drinking. You people actually scare me.
12.22.2010
12.21.2010
A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss?
I had never really thought about the meaning of the phrase "A rolling stone gathers no moss." On the latest cross-country jaunt, returning to Florida, I found myself contemplating this quite a bit. What was meant by "rolling stone" exactly? I'm reminded of those rocks in a desert somewhere that, due to wind patterns, appear to roll across the plains and flats. They aren't actually rolling forward of their own volition, but rather wind causes the sand to erode and the rock slowly "rolls forward". It's similar to when you stand on the beach and a wave breaks over your feet - as the water rushes back out to sea, it erodes the sand around your feet and you find yourself off-balance.
But these rocks "live" in extremely dry and windy locations. Moss tends not to grow in those locations as it is, so even the non-rolling stones of the area would "gather no moss". Obviously, that's not what was meant, but it's a start.
Where do stones regularly gather moss then? My thoughts go to the streams and brooks of childhood. Cool, clear water cutting through pine forest floors, replete with large rounded stones and giant boulders dropped by glaciers many thousands of years ago. There was certainly a lot of moss along those trout streams, making them slick and tricky to navigate. But I never really saw any of these stones "roll" on their own. It occurs to me, however, that the same process as the "rolling stones" of the desert undergo via wind erosion simply must happen within the turbulent streams of New Hampshire. As the water erodes the soil and sediment around the pebble or stone, the water's push against the stone becomes ever more difficult for the friction and gravity to withstand. Eventually, the stone will go tumbling downstream, settling in a new location where either the path is clogged with other stones and debris or the current subsides enough that the forces of gravity and friction can again take hold.
I like this idea. Not only does it bring to mind images of the beautiful rounded stones that massaged bare feet as I'd wade hip deep and cast my trout flies. It also brings to mind the idea of a great rushing current pushing us along toward some universal ocean, carrying sand and sediment over us, slowly eroding us until we've become round and our surfaces polished. To fight this constant current means being buried alive in the onslaught of sand and mud meant only to perfect us. And, if your head is above the proverbial water line, it means gathering moss.
So choosing to be like the "rolling stone" in the babbling brook that is life, "no moss" will be gathered. But what exactly is this moss? Is it material stuff? Is it emotional baggage? Of course it is. It's this and much more. The moss referred to here is composed of both good and bad things, like love and family, enemies and debts. It is all of the things we accumulate throughout life: savings accounts, family heirlooms, long time friendships or your favorite bench in the city park. Life, though, is constantly pushing us. Holding on to these things can be difficult in the rushing torrents of a spring flood. If we hold on too long, we can become buried and suffocated by the very things we hold on to.
So some of us just choose to "roll". We choose to let the current take us downstream, toward that mysterious unification where all the streams of life lead. On the way, we'll bump into many moss covered stones, making brief encounters with those who choose to hold on and stay put. Our journeys will often slow and even stop for a time as the current slacks during the dry months of the late summer. We'll often become tangled in the piles of debris during spring floods, or find ourselves washed up on the embankments after large, violent storms. But we always resume our journey to the sea. We always find our paths moving forward again.
And sometimes we find ourselves feeling envy for all that moss other stones have gathered. We dream of lives where we can settle in a small pool with a sandy bottom, gather moss and just take a break. Tumbling along with the current often seems more difficult than just staying put. But then the draw of the sea reminds us of why we choose to roll.
"A rolling stone gathers no moss," and this is a choice some of us have made.
So I'm back in Florida again. This is my 4th time here. Life, up to this point, has certainly been a wild ride. The journey to here has been rich and full of experience. I think, though, at this point, I'll stay put and rest for a while before the next storm carries me away again. It's good to catch your breath every now and then.
But these rocks "live" in extremely dry and windy locations. Moss tends not to grow in those locations as it is, so even the non-rolling stones of the area would "gather no moss". Obviously, that's not what was meant, but it's a start.
Where do stones regularly gather moss then? My thoughts go to the streams and brooks of childhood. Cool, clear water cutting through pine forest floors, replete with large rounded stones and giant boulders dropped by glaciers many thousands of years ago. There was certainly a lot of moss along those trout streams, making them slick and tricky to navigate. But I never really saw any of these stones "roll" on their own. It occurs to me, however, that the same process as the "rolling stones" of the desert undergo via wind erosion simply must happen within the turbulent streams of New Hampshire. As the water erodes the soil and sediment around the pebble or stone, the water's push against the stone becomes ever more difficult for the friction and gravity to withstand. Eventually, the stone will go tumbling downstream, settling in a new location where either the path is clogged with other stones and debris or the current subsides enough that the forces of gravity and friction can again take hold.
I like this idea. Not only does it bring to mind images of the beautiful rounded stones that massaged bare feet as I'd wade hip deep and cast my trout flies. It also brings to mind the idea of a great rushing current pushing us along toward some universal ocean, carrying sand and sediment over us, slowly eroding us until we've become round and our surfaces polished. To fight this constant current means being buried alive in the onslaught of sand and mud meant only to perfect us. And, if your head is above the proverbial water line, it means gathering moss.
So choosing to be like the "rolling stone" in the babbling brook that is life, "no moss" will be gathered. But what exactly is this moss? Is it material stuff? Is it emotional baggage? Of course it is. It's this and much more. The moss referred to here is composed of both good and bad things, like love and family, enemies and debts. It is all of the things we accumulate throughout life: savings accounts, family heirlooms, long time friendships or your favorite bench in the city park. Life, though, is constantly pushing us. Holding on to these things can be difficult in the rushing torrents of a spring flood. If we hold on too long, we can become buried and suffocated by the very things we hold on to.
So some of us just choose to "roll". We choose to let the current take us downstream, toward that mysterious unification where all the streams of life lead. On the way, we'll bump into many moss covered stones, making brief encounters with those who choose to hold on and stay put. Our journeys will often slow and even stop for a time as the current slacks during the dry months of the late summer. We'll often become tangled in the piles of debris during spring floods, or find ourselves washed up on the embankments after large, violent storms. But we always resume our journey to the sea. We always find our paths moving forward again.
And sometimes we find ourselves feeling envy for all that moss other stones have gathered. We dream of lives where we can settle in a small pool with a sandy bottom, gather moss and just take a break. Tumbling along with the current often seems more difficult than just staying put. But then the draw of the sea reminds us of why we choose to roll.
"A rolling stone gathers no moss," and this is a choice some of us have made.
So I'm back in Florida again. This is my 4th time here. Life, up to this point, has certainly been a wild ride. The journey to here has been rich and full of experience. I think, though, at this point, I'll stay put and rest for a while before the next storm carries me away again. It's good to catch your breath every now and then.
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