Friday, August 1, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
I Saw Osama bin Laden
Today I saw Osama bin Laden on Canal Street in NYC buying a bootleg Batman The Dark Knight DVD.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
hotter than hell today
I've just finished watching CNN and almost fainted when the talking-heads announced that Obama is leading by only 4 percentage points! ARE YOU KIDDING ME! Mccain, while an apparantly decent man, gleefully admitted to knowing nothing about the economy while his compadre Phil Gramm call us all a bunch of whiners who are complaining about an imaginary recession. Can you believe that! And George Bush’s priorities have always been skewed. Why just months after declaring he wanted bin Laden “dead or alive,” Bush said, “I truly am not that concerned about him.” Turning his attention away from bin Laden, Bush trained his focus on Iraq — a country he now admits had “nothing” to do with 9/11.
I mean, what will it take to get it through your thick skulls that the Republican party doesn't give a damn about you. About any of us? What else do they have to do to make all you gun-totin, environment killin, homosexual-hatin bible-thumpin Republicans understand that you are being used,abused and lied to?
1. Boys and girls barely old enough to vote are dying in Iraq by the truck-loads for
a war based on lies/misinformation.
2. George W.Bush refused to testify under oath about the 911 attacks, and
refused to tesify without Dick Cheney at his side. (Let's see you try that in
court.)
3. The FEMA/Katrina debacle.
4. The Valerie Plame/Scooter Libby scandal.
5. The soaring national debt.
6. The fact that he said oil revenues from Iraqi oil would pay for the war...
We're paying for this stupid war via loans from China!
7. The sinking dollar.
8. The foreclosure nightmare.
9. The health care crisis.
10. skyrocketing oil prices...
Yet everytime I see this sniggling idiot on the news, he's laughing, joking, dancing, vacationing and telling us that everything is okay. ***NEWS FLASH*** EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY "SNIGGLING GEORGE"! We're in a recession you lying SOB and sliding quickly into a Depression. Just look at what's happening to the banks.
. Press Release
The FDIC has issued a press release (PR-56-2008) about the institution's closure. If you represent a media outlet and would like information about the closure, in California, please contact David Barr with the Office of Public Affairs at 703-622-4790, in Washington D.C. please contact Andrew Gray at 202-898-7192.
Does this sound like everything is all right to you? (Unless you're a millionare like your president and his buddies, everything is definately not all right!)
When Reagan took office in 1981, the national debt stood at $995 billion. Twelve years later, by the end of George H.W. Bush’s presidency, it had exploded to $4 trillion. Reagan was a “B” grade movie actor and a doddering, probably clinically senile president, but he was a sheer genius at rewarding his friends by saddling other people with debts.
Bill Clinton reversed Reagan’s course, raising taxes on the wealthy, and lowering them for the working and middle classes. This produced the longest sustained economic expansion in American history. Importantly, it also produced budgetary surpluses allowing the government to begin paying down the crippling debt begun under Reagan. In 2000, Clinton’s last year, the surplus amounted to $236 billion. The forecast ten year surplus stood at $5.6 trillion. It was the last black ink America would see for decades, perhaps forever.
George W. Bush immediately reversed Clinton’s policy in order to revive Reagan’s, once again showering an embarrassment of riches on the already most embarrassingly rich, his “base” as he calls them. He ladled out some $630 billion in tax cuts to the top 1% of income earners. In true Republican fashion, they returned the favor by investing over $200 million to ensure Bush’s re-election.
And still you keep putting Republicans in.
Here's how it always works for some strange reason. Republicans break the economy, Democrats repair the damage made by the Republicans and actually make things better, then the American sheeple vote the Republicans in again so they can mess things up all over again. And the cycle of destruction continues.
The Republicans dupe middle-class morons into voting for them decade after decade by simply claiming to be the party of God. But ask yourself this and then I'll get off my soapbox. If Jesus was alive today, do you really think he'd shoot Bambi, Thumper, and Simba the Lion King in the face with a shotgun just so he could mount their heads on his livingroom wall? Republicans would have you beleive that he would. And do you really think he'd support the sale and use of guns (remember that pesky little commandment, thou shalt not kill?) Republicans would have you believe he would. And do you think for a moment he would be okay with millions of his children dying every year because they couldn't afford health insurance? And finally, do you really think ole J.C. would be listening to hate radio like the Laura Ingraham, Rush Limbaugh, and Micahel Savage shows? Call me crazy, but based on what I've read about him in the King James version of the Holy Bible, I'd say probably not. But year in and year out, virtually without fail, you keep putting Republicans in office. You keep allowing them to exploit you for their own personal gain and at your expense.
They don't even get global warming! The talking heads on FOX News, aka the Republican News Network,don't even believe that global warming is real. I'm not kidding. I swear to you, I actually heard one of them say that it was a scare tactic invented by the "Liberal Media".
Republican decision makers and right-wing talk show hosts like Michael Savage, Laura Ingraham and Rush Limbaugh and the FOX News Network (care only about money and power. Money is there God and power is their altor. They are racist, intolerant, war-mongers who do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to enhance the lives of people in the middle class. Did you know that everytime they are in power, the middle class shrinks in size? Did you know also that the American economy and the middle class has always flourished under Democratic rule and diminished under Republican rule? And in terms of being racial bigots, did you know that the racist southern Dixiecrats all left the Democratic party to become Republicans because of their "States Rights" position against racial equality.
Yeah, the Republican Party is the Party of God all right. They love guns (weapons of mass destruction) and hate gays. Just like Jesus would have. Hey, makes sense to me you Jesus-loving Republicans. You just keep right on voting the Republicans in so they can continue to kill your kids in meaningless wars, and so they can continue to get guns into the hands of maniacs who will gun your kids down in their high school and college classrooms. Good luck with that.
Oh, and by the way, before I jump off this soapbox, just let me leave you with this thought. The very same people who are sending your kids off to die in battle, lied and cheated their way out of having to serve.
EXHIBIT A: GEORGE W. BUSH.
The unit in which Bush served was known as a "Champagne unit," where the scions of the Texas aristocracy could avoid combat duty with relatively few demands on their time. Serving in that unit with Bush were the sons of three prominent men: Democratic Governor John Connally, Democratic Senator and future Vice-Presidential nominee Lloyd Bentsen, and Republican Senator John Tower, as well as seven members of the Dallas Cowboys professional football team, and James R. Bath, who would become a longtime friend of Bush's. He joined so avoid serving in Vietnam. Nice!
EXHIBIT B: DICK Cheney.
When Cheney became eligible for the draft, he was a supporter of the Vietnam War but did not serve in the military. Instead, he applied for and received five draft deferments. Nicer!
EXHIBIT C: Rush Limbaugh.
When Limbaugh became eligible for the Vietnam draft, he avoided it because he had been classified 4-F after a physical found that he had an "inoperable pilonidal cyst" and "a football knee from high school." Funny how that "inoperable pilonidal cyst" never prevented him from sitting his fat, flabby ass in his announcers chair for hours on end.
EXHIBIT D: Michael Savage:
Michael Savage: Did not serve
EXHIBIT E: Sean Hannity: Did not serve
Sean Hannity: Did not serve
EXHIBIT F: Bill O'Reilly:
Bill O'Reilly: Did not serve
EXHIBIT G: Laura Ingraham:
Laura Ingraham Did not serve.
GET MY DRIFT? THE SAME PEOPLE KILLING OUR KIDS, NEVER WENT TO WAR THEMSELVES...
THINK ABOUT IT TIGHTY RIGHTIES.
Anyway,as Forrest Gump once said..."And that's all I have to say about that."
On a much lighter note, I've completed the second chapter of "FO4R" but for some reason I can't get the damn thing downloaded onto this blog. I'll try again on Monday night after work.
I mean, what will it take to get it through your thick skulls that the Republican party doesn't give a damn about you. About any of us? What else do they have to do to make all you gun-totin, environment killin, homosexual-hatin bible-thumpin Republicans understand that you are being used,abused and lied to?
1. Boys and girls barely old enough to vote are dying in Iraq by the truck-loads for
a war based on lies/misinformation.
2. George W.Bush refused to testify under oath about the 911 attacks, and
refused to tesify without Dick Cheney at his side. (Let's see you try that in
court.)
3. The FEMA/Katrina debacle.
4. The Valerie Plame/Scooter Libby scandal.
5. The soaring national debt.
6. The fact that he said oil revenues from Iraqi oil would pay for the war...
We're paying for this stupid war via loans from China!
7. The sinking dollar.
8. The foreclosure nightmare.
9. The health care crisis.
10. skyrocketing oil prices...
Yet everytime I see this sniggling idiot on the news, he's laughing, joking, dancing, vacationing and telling us that everything is okay. ***NEWS FLASH*** EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY "SNIGGLING GEORGE"! We're in a recession you lying SOB and sliding quickly into a Depression. Just look at what's happening to the banks.
. Press Release
The FDIC has issued a press release (PR-56-2008) about the institution's closure. If you represent a media outlet and would like information about the closure, in California, please contact David Barr with the Office of Public Affairs at 703-622-4790, in Washington D.C. please contact Andrew Gray at 202-898-7192.
Does this sound like everything is all right to you? (Unless you're a millionare like your president and his buddies, everything is definately not all right!)
When Reagan took office in 1981, the national debt stood at $995 billion. Twelve years later, by the end of George H.W. Bush’s presidency, it had exploded to $4 trillion. Reagan was a “B” grade movie actor and a doddering, probably clinically senile president, but he was a sheer genius at rewarding his friends by saddling other people with debts.
Bill Clinton reversed Reagan’s course, raising taxes on the wealthy, and lowering them for the working and middle classes. This produced the longest sustained economic expansion in American history. Importantly, it also produced budgetary surpluses allowing the government to begin paying down the crippling debt begun under Reagan. In 2000, Clinton’s last year, the surplus amounted to $236 billion. The forecast ten year surplus stood at $5.6 trillion. It was the last black ink America would see for decades, perhaps forever.
George W. Bush immediately reversed Clinton’s policy in order to revive Reagan’s, once again showering an embarrassment of riches on the already most embarrassingly rich, his “base” as he calls them. He ladled out some $630 billion in tax cuts to the top 1% of income earners. In true Republican fashion, they returned the favor by investing over $200 million to ensure Bush’s re-election.
And still you keep putting Republicans in.
Here's how it always works for some strange reason. Republicans break the economy, Democrats repair the damage made by the Republicans and actually make things better, then the American sheeple vote the Republicans in again so they can mess things up all over again. And the cycle of destruction continues.
The Republicans dupe middle-class morons into voting for them decade after decade by simply claiming to be the party of God. But ask yourself this and then I'll get off my soapbox. If Jesus was alive today, do you really think he'd shoot Bambi, Thumper, and Simba the Lion King in the face with a shotgun just so he could mount their heads on his livingroom wall? Republicans would have you beleive that he would. And do you really think he'd support the sale and use of guns (remember that pesky little commandment, thou shalt not kill?) Republicans would have you believe he would. And do you think for a moment he would be okay with millions of his children dying every year because they couldn't afford health insurance? And finally, do you really think ole J.C. would be listening to hate radio like the Laura Ingraham, Rush Limbaugh, and Micahel Savage shows? Call me crazy, but based on what I've read about him in the King James version of the Holy Bible, I'd say probably not. But year in and year out, virtually without fail, you keep putting Republicans in office. You keep allowing them to exploit you for their own personal gain and at your expense.
They don't even get global warming! The talking heads on FOX News, aka the Republican News Network,don't even believe that global warming is real. I'm not kidding. I swear to you, I actually heard one of them say that it was a scare tactic invented by the "Liberal Media".
Republican decision makers and right-wing talk show hosts like Michael Savage, Laura Ingraham and Rush Limbaugh and the FOX News Network (care only about money and power. Money is there God and power is their altor. They are racist, intolerant, war-mongers who do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to enhance the lives of people in the middle class. Did you know that everytime they are in power, the middle class shrinks in size? Did you know also that the American economy and the middle class has always flourished under Democratic rule and diminished under Republican rule? And in terms of being racial bigots, did you know that the racist southern Dixiecrats all left the Democratic party to become Republicans because of their "States Rights" position against racial equality.
Yeah, the Republican Party is the Party of God all right. They love guns (weapons of mass destruction) and hate gays. Just like Jesus would have. Hey, makes sense to me you Jesus-loving Republicans. You just keep right on voting the Republicans in so they can continue to kill your kids in meaningless wars, and so they can continue to get guns into the hands of maniacs who will gun your kids down in their high school and college classrooms. Good luck with that.
Oh, and by the way, before I jump off this soapbox, just let me leave you with this thought. The very same people who are sending your kids off to die in battle, lied and cheated their way out of having to serve.
EXHIBIT A: GEORGE W. BUSH.
The unit in which Bush served was known as a "Champagne unit," where the scions of the Texas aristocracy could avoid combat duty with relatively few demands on their time. Serving in that unit with Bush were the sons of three prominent men: Democratic Governor John Connally, Democratic Senator and future Vice-Presidential nominee Lloyd Bentsen, and Republican Senator John Tower, as well as seven members of the Dallas Cowboys professional football team, and James R. Bath, who would become a longtime friend of Bush's. He joined so avoid serving in Vietnam. Nice!
EXHIBIT B: DICK Cheney.
When Cheney became eligible for the draft, he was a supporter of the Vietnam War but did not serve in the military. Instead, he applied for and received five draft deferments. Nicer!
EXHIBIT C: Rush Limbaugh.
When Limbaugh became eligible for the Vietnam draft, he avoided it because he had been classified 4-F after a physical found that he had an "inoperable pilonidal cyst" and "a football knee from high school." Funny how that "inoperable pilonidal cyst" never prevented him from sitting his fat, flabby ass in his announcers chair for hours on end.
EXHIBIT D: Michael Savage:
Michael Savage: Did not serve
EXHIBIT E: Sean Hannity: Did not serve
Sean Hannity: Did not serve
EXHIBIT F: Bill O'Reilly:
Bill O'Reilly: Did not serve
EXHIBIT G: Laura Ingraham:
Laura Ingraham Did not serve.
GET MY DRIFT? THE SAME PEOPLE KILLING OUR KIDS, NEVER WENT TO WAR THEMSELVES...
THINK ABOUT IT TIGHTY RIGHTIES.
Anyway,as Forrest Gump once said..."And that's all I have to say about that."
On a much lighter note, I've completed the second chapter of "FO4R" but for some reason I can't get the damn thing downloaded onto this blog. I'll try again on Monday night after work.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
FO4R
FO4R
A NOVEL BY J.A.S.Z.I.
PROLOGUE
My name is Jeffrey Thomas Crooms. The pseudonym I write under is J.A.S.Z.I.
I was compelled to write this novel because I wanted to make America aware of what could happen if we are not more pragmatic in the way we treat our global counterparts. I wanted to open America’s eyes to the potential dangers that may lurk ahead. I wanted to affect change. Even though I have never won any writing contests, prizes, or awards of any kind, I know how we, as Americans, are negatively perceived beyond our borders. Unlike most Americans, I have traveled across oceans and have listened closely to what people on the other side of them are saying about us. I was deeply disturbed…very deeply disturbed.
The scenario I submit in “FO4R” should not be perceived as anti-American because it is not. Despite its aggressive texture, it is pro-American and pro-humanity. As you travel through its pages, please do so with an open mind, and always remember that the soliloquy that is truth has always and will always have two very distinct versions: the factual version and the subversion. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Thank you and God Bless America…
CHAPTER ONE
Air flight 323 bound from Israel to New York City cruised into New York airspace just as it had a thousand times before. Maintaining a steady cruising altitude of thirty thousand feet, it remained that way until landing instructions poured in from Tower Control. Following those instructions like an obedient child, it descended through puffy clouds of white and gray and kept on descending until it touched-down at Kennedy Airport.
The plane’s colossal tires skidded and bounced down the recently rained upon landing strip to their designated spot on the tarmac and then stopped. As the engines shut down, three separate crews converged on it like swarms of biblical locusts. The first crew attached a jetway to it, the second commenced the frenzied yet highly organized task of luggage removal, and the third refueled and de-iced it.
While all of this was taking place, both passengers and crew should have disembarked…but they didn’t. No one did. So sensing that something was amiss, three airline employees ran through the jetway to the door of the plane. They tried opening it but it wouldn’t budge, and despite attempts to raise anyone by voice, no one answered. So they ran back into the terminal and alerted the Port Authority Police Department who, in turn, dispatched one of their officers to the scene.
Just like the others before him, he ran through the jetway and stopped at the door. He paused for a moment then tried to open it. When he realized he couldn’t, he placed his ear against it and listened for sounds. But there were none. He moved away from it and struck it mightily with his fist. “Everyone alright in there?” Open the door!” he yelled.
At first, nothing happened. Then, the door slowly creaked open, independent of human assistance. His heart raced and his throat flew into his mouth. He swallowed hard, unbuckled his holster, and unsheathed his gun, a M37 hypervelocity magnetic pulse hand-cannon.
“Who did that?”
No one answered.
The officer was about to board the plane when the authoritative voice of his commanding officer crackled through his walkie-talkie.
“Johnson. What the hell’s going on down there? Over.”
With a tight grip on his cannon, he grabbed his walkie-talkie and placed it to his lips. His eyes never left the door. “Don’t know yet, sir. It’s as quiet as a cemetery in there. Over.”
“You need back-up? Over.”
“No, sir. Over.”
“Keep me posted and stay alert. Over.”
“Roger that, sir. Over and out.”
He put the walkie-talkie back in his pocket, nervously ran his fingers through his hair, and proceeded cautiously onto the plane. He had barely cleared the threshold when an unspeakably repugnant stench slammed him in the face like a shotgun blast. “What the fuck?!”
Coughing and hacking like he had just swallowed a bottle of poison, he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, placed it over his mouth and nose, and continued warily onward. “Anybody here?”
Again, no one answered.
As he walked through the eerily silent cabin with his handkerchief over his mouth and nose and his hand-cannon drawn, he checked first-class, business-class and the cockpit. All three areas were curiously empty. He paused for a moment then headed for coach.
Even though the academy had thoroughly trained him to handle crisis-situations, no training on earth could have prepared him for the evil that lurked on the other side of the curtain that separated business and first-class from coach. As soon as he pulled it open, he was stunned by what he saw. In identical stages of decomposition, and with faces replete with sores, mold, and grossly enlarged pores, all the passengers and flight attendants were dead in their seats. Their bloody eyes were large and completely white, their teeth were rotted, their skin was gray, and their fingernails were black. In all of his days on the force, he had never seen anything like it.
Frightened that whatever had happened to the passengers and crew would soon overtake him as well, he tried to flee but stumbled and fell over the carcass of the Air Marshall. With his face smashed against the Air Marshall’s rotting face, he vomited all over it, jumped up like a rocket, and bolted off the plane.
As he ran through the jetway his right shoe flew off, but he refused to stop and retrieve it. Without breaking stride, he ran straight over to one of the terminal windows overlooking the plane. As he looked at it, he pulled out his walkie-talkie and radioed his commanding officer. “Central Station. This is Johnson. Over.”
There was a brief pause then a response crackled through.
“What’s going on down there? Over.”
“I think we’ve got a terrorist situation down here, sir. They’re all dead! Over.”
“Explain. Over.”
“They’re all dead, sir. No survivors. Over.
“You back in the terminal? Over.
“Yes, sir. Over.”
“How many civilians are in the area? Over.”
Johnson looked around and did a quick head-count. “Five, sir. What should I do?
“Move everyone into the Admiral’s Lounge. I don’t want anyone near that plane, understand? I’ll be down in a minute. Over and out.”
He put the walkie-talkie back in its holster and looked at the plane through the window again. As it consumed his attention, an adorable little girl walked over to him eating vanilla ice-cream on a cone. She’d noticed his shoeless foot and was puzzled.
“You Ok, mister? ‘Cause you don’t look so good.” Residue from the ice-cream framed her tiny mouth.
He didn’t respond because he was too immersed in thought.
Refusing to be ignored she yanked his sleeve.
Barely feeling her tug, he looked down and acknowledged her. “Well hello there little one.” He smiled at her warmly. “And what can I do for you?”
“Are you Ok, mister? “’Cause you don’t look so good,” she repeated licking her ice-cream. Just as he was about to respond, her face went blank, her eyes turned white and she dropped her ice-cream. Then, in the haunting echoing voice of a thousand distinctly different voices from a thousand distinctly different ancient men speaking all together at once but at different speeds, she recited bible verses from 1st Corinthians 15:51-15:52 in ancient Aramaic. “BEHOLD, I TELL YOU A MYSTERY. WE SHALL NOT ALL SLEEP, BUT WE SHALL ALL BE CHANGED. IN A MOMENT, IN THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE, AT THE LAST TRUMPET. FOR THE TRUMPET WILL SOUND, AND THE DEAD WILL BE RAISED INCORRUPTABLE, AND WE SHALL ALL BE CHANGED.” Her chin dropped down to her chest and rested there for a second and then she was back to normal…as if nothing happened.
No longer smiling, the officer stared at her. Did he hear and see what he thought he heard and saw, or did he imagine it? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him. “What did you just say to me?”
“I asked if you were Ok. ‘Cause if you’re not, I’ll get you some help. I’m connected like that.” She winked at him.
“First the plane, and now this. What the hell’s going on around here,” he thought to himself.
Just then, her mother ran up to her and grabbed her forcefully by the arm. “Jesus Susan! You scared me half to death! How many times has mommy told you never to leave her side when we’re out of the house?” She was infuriated, but at the same time relieved.
“With a sad look on her face, the little girl looked into her mother’s eyes. “I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll never do it again. I promise.”
Unable to resist her daughter’s charm, she picked the little girl up like a shopping bag full of eggs and pulled her close. She kissed her then looked over at the officer and smiled a smile uncomfortable smile. “I’m so sorry, officer. You know how kids are these days.”
He smiled back at her to put her at ease. “No harm done.”
“Say goodbye to the nice officer, sweetheart,” she said rubbing her nose against her daughter’s.
“Goodbye nice officer. Hope you feel better soon.” She waved.
“Have a nice evening, officer,” said the mother. She walked away with her daughter in her arms.
He smiled cautiously and returned the little girl’s wave. “Good night.” They continued waving until they were out of each other’s sight.
Sensing that his commanding officer would arrive any minute, he hastily directed everyone into the Admiral’s Lounge. He had just escorted the last person into the lounge when his boss, Captain McNamara startled him by tapping him on the shoulder from behind. He was flanked on either side by C.I.A. agents.
“Johnson! These fellas here are with the C.T.U. (the C.I.A.’s Counter Terrorism Unit). He pointed to each agent as he introduced them. “This is Special Agent Gellar, Special Agent Kryzinski and Captain McCleary.”
Each agent shook Officer Johnson’s hand as his name was called.
“Gentlemen, this is Officer Alonso Johnson,” continued Captain McNamara. He patted Officer Johnson proudly on the back. “Johnson’s one of our best men.”
“Captain McNamara tells me everyone onboard is dead…that true?” asked Captain McCleary. He made it conspicuously obvious that he didn’t want to waste another second on formalities and irrelevant chit-chat.
“Yes, sir. And they looked like they’d been that way for weeks. I never saw anything like it,” replied Officer Johnson. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn, but he tried not to show it.
“Then let’s get in there and see what we’ve got. That Ok with you Captain?” asked Captain McCleary.
“Affirmative,” replied Captain McNamara appreciatively. He turned to Officer Johnson and placed his hand on his shoulder. “No one gets in or out of here. Got me?”
“Understood, sir.”
“This way gentlemen,” said Captain McNamara. He led the way through the jet-way.
With stern and resolute looks on their faces, they walked swiftly to the door of the plane and stopped. It was still open from when Officer Johnson whizzed through it. They all looked at each other waiting to see who’d enter first. When no one budged, Captain McCleary cleared his throat and walked through the door.
As soon as they were all onboard, they experienced the same repugnant stench that Officer Johnson did. They coughed and gagged as they soldiered forward into business and first class. When they arrived, they were shocked to see that both areas were completely empty. But what shocked them even more was that the door of the cockpit was slightly ajar. Captain McCleary was the first to notice. He silently waved both of his arms to get everyone’s attention. He placed his index finger across his lips, pointed to the cockpit door and drew his M37.
Following his lead, they drew their guns and trained them on the door. “Cover me. I’m going in,” he mouthed.
They all acknowledged him by nodding their heads, and as soon as they did, he barreled into the cockpit like Dirty Harry. The others were right behind him. But when they got there, it too was mysteriously empty.
“What the fuck?!” exclaimed Captain McNamara.
The others were just as shocked.
“How the hell does a plane fly all the way here from the Middle East without a goddamn pilot?” He looked befuddled…confused.
Agent Kryzinski, a 33 year old highly decorated forensic technology specialist, immediately unlocked the answer to the perplexing riddle. He walked into the cockpit, reached under the Captain’s seat, pulled out a small metallic rectangular device, and brought it back to the others. “Here’s how.”
They all hovered around it for a closer look.
“What the hell is it?” asked Captain McNamara.
“A remote control transmitter. It’s how they got this thing from there to here,” replied Kryzinski.
“Well I’ll be damned! Then where are the pilots?” asked Captain McNamara.
Without saying a word, Captain McCleary ran past them into coach. When he got there, he couldn’t believe what he saw. He put his fingers under his tongue and whistled for the others.
With their weapons drawn, they ran into coach.
Captain McCleary turned to forensic epidemiologist Agent Gellar for answers. “What do you make of this? Ever see anything like it?”
With a blank look on his face, Agent Gellar shook his head in the negative as he looked at the victims. “Never.”
“Then let’s get cracking. Chop. Chop,” ordered Captain McCleary. He clapped his hands twice for emphasis and both agents scattered.
Agent Kryzinski combed the plane for more suspicious devices while Agent Gellar collected blood and tissue samples. The two captains stayed behind and supervised.
“So what do you make of it? Terrorism?” asked Captain McNamara.
Captain McCleary looked worried. Like he knew something even more sinister was on the horizon. “Let’s hope not, Captain. God help us, let’s hope not.”
In the two hours it took to complete their assignments, Agent Gellar garnered two hundred and fifty tubes of blood and tissue samples.
“You boys get everything you need?” asked Captain McCleary.
“Yes, sir,” they replied in tandem.
“Good. Then let’s get the hell off this coffin,” said Captain McCleary. He led the way out.
“Last man out close the door,” said Captain McNamara. He was right behind Captain McCleary.
Agent Kryzinski made sure the door was closed.
About half way through the jet-way, Captain McNamara saw a black rubber-sole shoe lying against the wall. He recognized it immediately as Officer Johnson’s and slipped it under his coat when no one was looking.
As soon as they reached the terminal, Officer Johnson spotted them and hurried to wrap things up with a cute little customer service representative he’d been trying to seduce. “What do you say we continue this intriguing conversation a little later…like over dinner.” He winked at her flirtatiously.
She smiled back at him and free-styled a numeric elixir into his ear. As she walked away, she made a telephone receiver with her hand and mouthed, “Call me later.”
“Any problems?” asked Captain McNamara.
“No, sir. Everything’s under control,” replied Officer Johnson. He slid his shoeless foot behind the customer service booth.
“What happened in there, sir?”
“Too early to tell. Except it was flown here by remote control,” replied Captain McNamara.
Officer Johnson couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Remote control?”
“I think we’re done here, Captain. Thanks for the cooperation,” interjected Captain McCleary. He shook Captain McNamara’s hand. “We’ll keep you posted.”
“No problem, Captain. It was a real pleasure watching “the big boys” work,” replied Captain McNamara. He shook the hands of both agents and then the three men departed.
Captain McNamara waited until they were out of ear-shot before chiding Officer Johnson. He pulled the shoe out from under his jacket and dangled it in front of Officer Johnson’s face. “I assume this belongs to you.” He craned his neck trying to see Officer Johnson’s foot behind the desk.
Understanding the jig was up Officer Johnson dragged his foot to the fore. “I can explain, sir.”
Captain McNamara motioned Officer Johnson to stop explaining by holding up his hand. “Save it Johnson. I don’t even want to know. Just take it. And try not to lose it next time.”
“Yes, sir.” He took the shoe and slipped it back onto his foot.
“Hold the line. I’m going back to the station.”
“Yes, sir.”
And then Captain McNamara walked away.
A NOVEL BY J.A.S.Z.I.
PROLOGUE
My name is Jeffrey Thomas Crooms. The pseudonym I write under is J.A.S.Z.I.
I was compelled to write this novel because I wanted to make America aware of what could happen if we are not more pragmatic in the way we treat our global counterparts. I wanted to open America’s eyes to the potential dangers that may lurk ahead. I wanted to affect change. Even though I have never won any writing contests, prizes, or awards of any kind, I know how we, as Americans, are negatively perceived beyond our borders. Unlike most Americans, I have traveled across oceans and have listened closely to what people on the other side of them are saying about us. I was deeply disturbed…very deeply disturbed.
The scenario I submit in “FO4R” should not be perceived as anti-American because it is not. Despite its aggressive texture, it is pro-American and pro-humanity. As you travel through its pages, please do so with an open mind, and always remember that the soliloquy that is truth has always and will always have two very distinct versions: the factual version and the subversion. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Thank you and God Bless America…
CHAPTER ONE
Air flight 323 bound from Israel to New York City cruised into New York airspace just as it had a thousand times before. Maintaining a steady cruising altitude of thirty thousand feet, it remained that way until landing instructions poured in from Tower Control. Following those instructions like an obedient child, it descended through puffy clouds of white and gray and kept on descending until it touched-down at Kennedy Airport.
The plane’s colossal tires skidded and bounced down the recently rained upon landing strip to their designated spot on the tarmac and then stopped. As the engines shut down, three separate crews converged on it like swarms of biblical locusts. The first crew attached a jetway to it, the second commenced the frenzied yet highly organized task of luggage removal, and the third refueled and de-iced it.
While all of this was taking place, both passengers and crew should have disembarked…but they didn’t. No one did. So sensing that something was amiss, three airline employees ran through the jetway to the door of the plane. They tried opening it but it wouldn’t budge, and despite attempts to raise anyone by voice, no one answered. So they ran back into the terminal and alerted the Port Authority Police Department who, in turn, dispatched one of their officers to the scene.
Just like the others before him, he ran through the jetway and stopped at the door. He paused for a moment then tried to open it. When he realized he couldn’t, he placed his ear against it and listened for sounds. But there were none. He moved away from it and struck it mightily with his fist. “Everyone alright in there?” Open the door!” he yelled.
At first, nothing happened. Then, the door slowly creaked open, independent of human assistance. His heart raced and his throat flew into his mouth. He swallowed hard, unbuckled his holster, and unsheathed his gun, a M37 hypervelocity magnetic pulse hand-cannon.
“Who did that?”
No one answered.
The officer was about to board the plane when the authoritative voice of his commanding officer crackled through his walkie-talkie.
“Johnson. What the hell’s going on down there? Over.”
With a tight grip on his cannon, he grabbed his walkie-talkie and placed it to his lips. His eyes never left the door. “Don’t know yet, sir. It’s as quiet as a cemetery in there. Over.”
“You need back-up? Over.”
“No, sir. Over.”
“Keep me posted and stay alert. Over.”
“Roger that, sir. Over and out.”
He put the walkie-talkie back in his pocket, nervously ran his fingers through his hair, and proceeded cautiously onto the plane. He had barely cleared the threshold when an unspeakably repugnant stench slammed him in the face like a shotgun blast. “What the fuck?!”
Coughing and hacking like he had just swallowed a bottle of poison, he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, placed it over his mouth and nose, and continued warily onward. “Anybody here?”
Again, no one answered.
As he walked through the eerily silent cabin with his handkerchief over his mouth and nose and his hand-cannon drawn, he checked first-class, business-class and the cockpit. All three areas were curiously empty. He paused for a moment then headed for coach.
Even though the academy had thoroughly trained him to handle crisis-situations, no training on earth could have prepared him for the evil that lurked on the other side of the curtain that separated business and first-class from coach. As soon as he pulled it open, he was stunned by what he saw. In identical stages of decomposition, and with faces replete with sores, mold, and grossly enlarged pores, all the passengers and flight attendants were dead in their seats. Their bloody eyes were large and completely white, their teeth were rotted, their skin was gray, and their fingernails were black. In all of his days on the force, he had never seen anything like it.
Frightened that whatever had happened to the passengers and crew would soon overtake him as well, he tried to flee but stumbled and fell over the carcass of the Air Marshall. With his face smashed against the Air Marshall’s rotting face, he vomited all over it, jumped up like a rocket, and bolted off the plane.
As he ran through the jetway his right shoe flew off, but he refused to stop and retrieve it. Without breaking stride, he ran straight over to one of the terminal windows overlooking the plane. As he looked at it, he pulled out his walkie-talkie and radioed his commanding officer. “Central Station. This is Johnson. Over.”
There was a brief pause then a response crackled through.
“What’s going on down there? Over.”
“I think we’ve got a terrorist situation down here, sir. They’re all dead! Over.”
“Explain. Over.”
“They’re all dead, sir. No survivors. Over.
“You back in the terminal? Over.
“Yes, sir. Over.”
“How many civilians are in the area? Over.”
Johnson looked around and did a quick head-count. “Five, sir. What should I do?
“Move everyone into the Admiral’s Lounge. I don’t want anyone near that plane, understand? I’ll be down in a minute. Over and out.”
He put the walkie-talkie back in its holster and looked at the plane through the window again. As it consumed his attention, an adorable little girl walked over to him eating vanilla ice-cream on a cone. She’d noticed his shoeless foot and was puzzled.
“You Ok, mister? ‘Cause you don’t look so good.” Residue from the ice-cream framed her tiny mouth.
He didn’t respond because he was too immersed in thought.
Refusing to be ignored she yanked his sleeve.
Barely feeling her tug, he looked down and acknowledged her. “Well hello there little one.” He smiled at her warmly. “And what can I do for you?”
“Are you Ok, mister? “’Cause you don’t look so good,” she repeated licking her ice-cream. Just as he was about to respond, her face went blank, her eyes turned white and she dropped her ice-cream. Then, in the haunting echoing voice of a thousand distinctly different voices from a thousand distinctly different ancient men speaking all together at once but at different speeds, she recited bible verses from 1st Corinthians 15:51-15:52 in ancient Aramaic. “BEHOLD, I TELL YOU A MYSTERY. WE SHALL NOT ALL SLEEP, BUT WE SHALL ALL BE CHANGED. IN A MOMENT, IN THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE, AT THE LAST TRUMPET. FOR THE TRUMPET WILL SOUND, AND THE DEAD WILL BE RAISED INCORRUPTABLE, AND WE SHALL ALL BE CHANGED.” Her chin dropped down to her chest and rested there for a second and then she was back to normal…as if nothing happened.
No longer smiling, the officer stared at her. Did he hear and see what he thought he heard and saw, or did he imagine it? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him. “What did you just say to me?”
“I asked if you were Ok. ‘Cause if you’re not, I’ll get you some help. I’m connected like that.” She winked at him.
“First the plane, and now this. What the hell’s going on around here,” he thought to himself.
Just then, her mother ran up to her and grabbed her forcefully by the arm. “Jesus Susan! You scared me half to death! How many times has mommy told you never to leave her side when we’re out of the house?” She was infuriated, but at the same time relieved.
“With a sad look on her face, the little girl looked into her mother’s eyes. “I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll never do it again. I promise.”
Unable to resist her daughter’s charm, she picked the little girl up like a shopping bag full of eggs and pulled her close. She kissed her then looked over at the officer and smiled a smile uncomfortable smile. “I’m so sorry, officer. You know how kids are these days.”
He smiled back at her to put her at ease. “No harm done.”
“Say goodbye to the nice officer, sweetheart,” she said rubbing her nose against her daughter’s.
“Goodbye nice officer. Hope you feel better soon.” She waved.
“Have a nice evening, officer,” said the mother. She walked away with her daughter in her arms.
He smiled cautiously and returned the little girl’s wave. “Good night.” They continued waving until they were out of each other’s sight.
Sensing that his commanding officer would arrive any minute, he hastily directed everyone into the Admiral’s Lounge. He had just escorted the last person into the lounge when his boss, Captain McNamara startled him by tapping him on the shoulder from behind. He was flanked on either side by C.I.A. agents.
“Johnson! These fellas here are with the C.T.U. (the C.I.A.’s Counter Terrorism Unit). He pointed to each agent as he introduced them. “This is Special Agent Gellar, Special Agent Kryzinski and Captain McCleary.”
Each agent shook Officer Johnson’s hand as his name was called.
“Gentlemen, this is Officer Alonso Johnson,” continued Captain McNamara. He patted Officer Johnson proudly on the back. “Johnson’s one of our best men.”
“Captain McNamara tells me everyone onboard is dead…that true?” asked Captain McCleary. He made it conspicuously obvious that he didn’t want to waste another second on formalities and irrelevant chit-chat.
“Yes, sir. And they looked like they’d been that way for weeks. I never saw anything like it,” replied Officer Johnson. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn, but he tried not to show it.
“Then let’s get in there and see what we’ve got. That Ok with you Captain?” asked Captain McCleary.
“Affirmative,” replied Captain McNamara appreciatively. He turned to Officer Johnson and placed his hand on his shoulder. “No one gets in or out of here. Got me?”
“Understood, sir.”
“This way gentlemen,” said Captain McNamara. He led the way through the jet-way.
With stern and resolute looks on their faces, they walked swiftly to the door of the plane and stopped. It was still open from when Officer Johnson whizzed through it. They all looked at each other waiting to see who’d enter first. When no one budged, Captain McCleary cleared his throat and walked through the door.
As soon as they were all onboard, they experienced the same repugnant stench that Officer Johnson did. They coughed and gagged as they soldiered forward into business and first class. When they arrived, they were shocked to see that both areas were completely empty. But what shocked them even more was that the door of the cockpit was slightly ajar. Captain McCleary was the first to notice. He silently waved both of his arms to get everyone’s attention. He placed his index finger across his lips, pointed to the cockpit door and drew his M37.
Following his lead, they drew their guns and trained them on the door. “Cover me. I’m going in,” he mouthed.
They all acknowledged him by nodding their heads, and as soon as they did, he barreled into the cockpit like Dirty Harry. The others were right behind him. But when they got there, it too was mysteriously empty.
“What the fuck?!” exclaimed Captain McNamara.
The others were just as shocked.
“How the hell does a plane fly all the way here from the Middle East without a goddamn pilot?” He looked befuddled…confused.
Agent Kryzinski, a 33 year old highly decorated forensic technology specialist, immediately unlocked the answer to the perplexing riddle. He walked into the cockpit, reached under the Captain’s seat, pulled out a small metallic rectangular device, and brought it back to the others. “Here’s how.”
They all hovered around it for a closer look.
“What the hell is it?” asked Captain McNamara.
“A remote control transmitter. It’s how they got this thing from there to here,” replied Kryzinski.
“Well I’ll be damned! Then where are the pilots?” asked Captain McNamara.
Without saying a word, Captain McCleary ran past them into coach. When he got there, he couldn’t believe what he saw. He put his fingers under his tongue and whistled for the others.
With their weapons drawn, they ran into coach.
Captain McCleary turned to forensic epidemiologist Agent Gellar for answers. “What do you make of this? Ever see anything like it?”
With a blank look on his face, Agent Gellar shook his head in the negative as he looked at the victims. “Never.”
“Then let’s get cracking. Chop. Chop,” ordered Captain McCleary. He clapped his hands twice for emphasis and both agents scattered.
Agent Kryzinski combed the plane for more suspicious devices while Agent Gellar collected blood and tissue samples. The two captains stayed behind and supervised.
“So what do you make of it? Terrorism?” asked Captain McNamara.
Captain McCleary looked worried. Like he knew something even more sinister was on the horizon. “Let’s hope not, Captain. God help us, let’s hope not.”
In the two hours it took to complete their assignments, Agent Gellar garnered two hundred and fifty tubes of blood and tissue samples.
“You boys get everything you need?” asked Captain McCleary.
“Yes, sir,” they replied in tandem.
“Good. Then let’s get the hell off this coffin,” said Captain McCleary. He led the way out.
“Last man out close the door,” said Captain McNamara. He was right behind Captain McCleary.
Agent Kryzinski made sure the door was closed.
About half way through the jet-way, Captain McNamara saw a black rubber-sole shoe lying against the wall. He recognized it immediately as Officer Johnson’s and slipped it under his coat when no one was looking.
As soon as they reached the terminal, Officer Johnson spotted them and hurried to wrap things up with a cute little customer service representative he’d been trying to seduce. “What do you say we continue this intriguing conversation a little later…like over dinner.” He winked at her flirtatiously.
She smiled back at him and free-styled a numeric elixir into his ear. As she walked away, she made a telephone receiver with her hand and mouthed, “Call me later.”
“Any problems?” asked Captain McNamara.
“No, sir. Everything’s under control,” replied Officer Johnson. He slid his shoeless foot behind the customer service booth.
“What happened in there, sir?”
“Too early to tell. Except it was flown here by remote control,” replied Captain McNamara.
Officer Johnson couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Remote control?”
“I think we’re done here, Captain. Thanks for the cooperation,” interjected Captain McCleary. He shook Captain McNamara’s hand. “We’ll keep you posted.”
“No problem, Captain. It was a real pleasure watching “the big boys” work,” replied Captain McNamara. He shook the hands of both agents and then the three men departed.
Captain McNamara waited until they were out of ear-shot before chiding Officer Johnson. He pulled the shoe out from under his jacket and dangled it in front of Officer Johnson’s face. “I assume this belongs to you.” He craned his neck trying to see Officer Johnson’s foot behind the desk.
Understanding the jig was up Officer Johnson dragged his foot to the fore. “I can explain, sir.”
Captain McNamara motioned Officer Johnson to stop explaining by holding up his hand. “Save it Johnson. I don’t even want to know. Just take it. And try not to lose it next time.”
“Yes, sir.” He took the shoe and slipped it back onto his foot.
“Hold the line. I’m going back to the station.”
“Yes, sir.”
And then Captain McNamara walked away.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
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