Here he is, holding forth on the massive return on investments a couple of losers with pressure cookers get for jihad as our hysterical police state swings into overblown and hysterical police state action to “protect” us.
We look more and more like Gulliver among the Lilliputians as we react like a big dumb giant trying to wipe out polio by stomping on viruses.
I particularly love how our Pols always talk about us being hated for our freedoms just before they take more freedom away and how we won’t be cowed by fear as we jump at our own shadows and pull pressure cookers off the market in terror. Then we go blow something up and call it peace. After that, we grab some comfort from a drug or TV or empty sex and call it happiness. Then we have orgasmic thrills because somebody decided to have a ceremony to give a veneer of societal approval to gay sex and call it marriage while somebody else decides to commit adultery and call it love. In between, we murder children and call it choice. We have developed a massive artillery of lies to tell ourselves.
That’s why I like crusty old geezers like Fred. They have a habit of crude plain speech I find refreshing in an age of euphemism, BS, and lies.