Nobility

skwah the bald eagle was hungry .... he'd been soaring over the arctic tundra for days, floating high on the thermals that wafted off denali, but he could see nothing ..... once the land was rich with game, seen easily by his sharp eyes, but now it was different .... reeking black pools shimmered in sunlight that seemed hotter than usual, black pools of a thick and viscous fluid dripping from an endless networks of pipes that laced across once pristine land .....

little did swkah know that his silent flight had not gone unnoticed; he had been picked up on the homeland's radar early warning screens, and the warriors dedicated to the preservation of the homeland's freedoms (there was one left; you could "leave the room" if you raised your hand and said, "kin i leave the room? i haveta go .....) were scrambling to intercept him ...... 2.4 billion dollars worth of stealth technology scrambled into the air, something that no fighter planes did for close to two hours after the last plane hit on september eleventh, skyhawk missiles armed and radio .... and they closed in on skwah .....

he felt them coming, but it was too late to avoid them, and he was tired and hungry .... the skyhawk missile, built at a cost that could have been used to build fifteen schools, three hospitals, twelve libraries, and fourteen day care centers, exploded in proximity and knocked him, senseless, from the air ....

his limp body fluttered to the ground ..... fortunately the warning shots fired at him by the homeland security guards missed him, although they'd been trained like the los angeles and new york police to empty the clip, reload, empty the clip, check rectal temperature and other vital signs with a cattle prod, then yell, "halt! or i'll shoot! ........"

the homeland warriors wrapped skwah's body in visqueen and duct tape, the cornerstones of any free society defending itself against terrorism, and took skwah to washington, d.c. .....

they took him before the senate and the congress .... look, they told the fearless officials of freedom; this must be the last bald eagle in the whole! wide! world! ......

a low murmur of excitement ran through the assemblage ...... mine, one yelled; he's mine! no, another screamed, he's MINE! they charged skwah and, grabbling wing and leg and leg and wing, while yet more greedy hands grabbed at his noble head .....

tore him to shreds faster'n a pack of piranhas can strip a cow of its flesh in the amazon basin, and that's about a minute 'n' thirty-two seconds .....

anything for a photo op for fox news, you know?

sound bytes were dubbed in later, along with suitably martial music ........

i'd prepared another interminable column about the media and how poorly they serve us and how much they gloss over in these most critical of times ..... but it wasn't a great column and it wasn't well written and molly ivins just died and i am so grieved and so saddened by her passing .....

molly knew more about politics than i ever want to and, at her worst, wrote better than i can in my wildest dreams ...... she was a truly a giant in a land populated by shrivelled malignant dwarves, and she could write page after page that'd make you laugh and make you think and make you angry and still give you hope ......

and she could do it all without saying "f*** ......."

god bless you, molly ivins ....

please come back soon .....

and stay a whole lot longer ......