Two weeks ago it was a cloud, or maybe aliens in a UFO. Yesterday it was the Cessna of Doom. In both cases the magnificent and brave chickenhawks of the Hill and White House did what the plan called for - they bravely turned their tails and fled. Monty Python come to Washington DC.
There have been screeds written on both incidents, but few except zencomix seem to be asking the important question. Who gets to tell the flyboys when to shoot down the scary flock of birds, and how do they decide to order the missiles fired?
Neither Pentagon nor White House will say. It's a matter of national insecurity you see.
And so the news that the White House would order increases in security alerts for no good reason makes me wonder if, in crying wolf so often, the chickenhawks of DC haven't begun to believe their own campfire ghost stories.
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