Fresh Paint
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
New Terrorism Threat
Insurgent Deer Gets Past O'Hare Security
The deer's head could be seen peeking through a window.

The young buck avoided security by tripping automatic doors typically used for deliveries. The Department of Aviation said the deer was looking for shelter after being injured on the road.
Thank goodness we're not in Iraq, otherwise a few hundred insurgent passengers might have been taken out in the mission too.

Good morning, my friends. Yes, I know this story probably ranks as the most emailed story this morning, so I invite you to click on the little thing that doesn't look much like an envelope below and email it now, if you haven't already.

Having recently picked up and dropped off someone at the airport, I can assure you that nothing natural that might attract even a badly injured deer can be found within several miles of the place, so I can only assume he either fell off the top of a deerhunter's SUV, or else someone was extremely inattentive as they drove in from the suburbs.

And this is the last time I will use the word "insurgent," since I find it odious. I prefer to call these massacred innocents what they are -- dead and dying men, women, and children.

Read Riverbend, follow the links, and think about "values", will you?
"He's dead now." He said it calmly, matter-of-factly, in a sort of sing-song voice that made my blood run cold… and the Marines around him didn't care. They just roamed around the mosque and began to drag around the corpses because, apparently, this was nothing to them. This was probably a commonplace incident.

We sat, horrified, stunned with the horror of the scene that unfolded in front of our eyes. It's the third day of Eid and we were finally able to gather as a family- a cousin, his wife and their two daughters, two aunts, and an elderly uncle. E. and my cousin had been standing in line for two days to get fuel so we could go visit the elderly uncle on the final day of a very desolate Eid. The room was silent at the end of the scene, with only the voice of the news anchor and the sobs of my aunt. My little cousin flinched and dropped her spoon, face frozen with shock, eyes wide with disbelief, glued to the television screen, "Is he dead? Did they kill him?" I swallowed hard, trying to gulp away the lump lodged in my throat and watched as my cousin buried his face in his hands, ashamed to look at his daughter.

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