The Malaysian Airlines flight has been missing since March 8th. The one thing we know for certain is that there a lot of trash in the ocean.
The one we’re pretty sure of is that the pilot was involved in the disappearance. A pilot who had been playing with fairly high end flight simulators and then deleting the files. What was he practicing for? If he just wanted to dump an airplane full of people in the ocean, he already had the controls, it didn’t require anything special.
So here’s a thought I’ve been having for some time. I’m not the only one, Retired Air Force Lt. Gen. McInerney has been saying it in the press.
Say the pilot turned off his electronic equipment, got down low or in the radar shadow of another flight, and took the plane somewhere. Somewhere like Pakistan, for example. The question no one quite answered was why.
Pakistan has nuclear weapons. What they lack is delivery devices. That plane could already be painted to match some other country’s planes. Electronics readied to either mimic or replace an expected flight out of Jinnah. Then you pick the destination. I’d suspect Israel. How close does that get it before it diverts from an expected flight path?
And if they have a plane, they have a pilot.
“A California state senator who authored gun control legislation asked for campaign donations in exchange for introducing an undercover FBI agent to an arms trafficker, according to court documents unsealed Wednesday.”
It would kinda go without saying he’s a Democrat. What is interesting is that what was being offered was automatic weapons and missile launchers in return for campaign contributions, with the weapons coming from Muslim extremists in the Philippines.
New Jersey has figured out to get rid of the rich. They tax them. It’s called the “Millionaire’s Tax”. The New Jersey Democrats want to raise it even further. Ya’ know, because it’s working so well, bringing in tax dollars.
“Prior to the millionaire’s tax, more wealth was coming into the state than was leaving. Over a four-year period the aggregate net worth increased by $98 billion,” the study states. “However, the 2004-2008 post-millionaire’s-tax period shows more wealth leaving the state than coming in. The net outflow during this period reversed 70 percent of the wealth gained in the prior four years.”
Here’s the link. What they will have when they get done will be only the people who cannot afford to leave. Kinda like Detroit.
Many of my relatives came from Ireland between 1850 and 1870. My Great-great-grandmother died on the passage, leaving her husband with an infant, my Great-grandfather. Everything she had with her was thrown overboard out of fear of contagion. There were others, some stories I know, most of their histories have been lost.
But for all of them, when they got here, they moved up into New England, worked on railroads and in the mills, one worked on a dairy farm. I don’t see St. Patrick’s Day as a reason to drink green beer. I see it as a day to look back, to remember what it cost them to come here, knowing when they left home they would never return.
There’s no other word for this than slavery. Mentally retarded men kept isolated, working long hours in a turkey processing plant for decades. Paid essentially nothing. Living in squalor. Until 2009. Here’s a quote from the introduction. RTWT.
A veteran social worker named Denise Gonzales drove past the winter-quiescent fields of 2009 to some town called Atalissa. She had to see for herself what subordinates were telling her. She pulled uphill to an old schoolhouse, its turquoise exterior garish amid the sleeping acres of snow-dusted brown. She found an open door and stepped into a wonderland nightmare, with walls painted playhouse colors, floors speckled with roaches and the air rank with neglect. From the squalid building’s shadows emerged its residents, all men, extending hands in welcome, their long fingernails caked with dried blood. A few hands looked almost forked. “From pulling crop,” they explained, a term that she soon learned referred to the yanking of craws from freshly killed turkeys.
You the boss lady? they asked, with grins of gaptoothed decay. You in charge of us now? A few led her on a tour past the soiled mattresses, the overloaded electrical outlets, the trash bins collecting the snow melt dripping from the ceiling — their home. The schoolhouse was crime-scene crowded. Law enforcement investigators. Social workers. The nervous caretakers. A woman just up from Texas, identifying herself as a co-owner of Henry’s Turkey Service and describing these “boys” as employees who were like family. “Dressed to the nines,” Ms. Gonzales recalls. “And right outside that room were these men needing medical attention, malnourished, with mice crawling in their rooms.” Two decades on the front lines of human frailty had not prepared her for this. But Ms. Gonzales suppressed her panic to focus on the names of these 21 Texans soon to be in her care. Gene. Willie. Henry. Frank. Keith. The Penner brothers, Billy and Robert. Others.
All the while, she kept thinking: How in God’s name did they wind up here?