GROUND HOG DAY - THE BEGINNING OF THE END

I just posted the following as a comment to one of my "friend's" postings on Facebook regarding her frustration with the musings of that infamous Pennsylvania woodchuck.  I feel it imperitave that I get this message out there.

I have been looking into taking legal action regarding that unholy liberal celebration ostensibly known as "Groundhog Day.". It is difficult to determine just what came first: The groundhog - or more aptly, the whistle pig, the name known by those who recognize the danger signals - or the weather? Regardless, it is clear that a conspiracy is afoot - that the so called "shadow" is actually a left wing cabal intent upon establishing an inclimate radical muslim caliphate that will enforce sharia law in weather forecasting, and force us all to listen to a never-ending loop of Kenny G music. (In that regard, you MUST all gird your loins and remember - "If it ain't country, it ain't music.)

And that's just for starters!

Before we know it - and both the great Holy Man of our time, Glenn Beck, and the much beleaguered John Birch Society have duly warned us - America will soon become, in effect, the western arm of the New Ottoman Empire. Ponxitauney Phil indeed! If you perform a (commie controlled) Google search, you will see that "Phill's" first name has any # of spellings. Exceedingly interesting, no? How dumb do they think we are?

If you are having trouble following the logic of this,  if this just doesn't make sense to you, well - that's just what THEY want. Simply close your eyes and listen. Listen to the Beckster. Concentrate. Now, remember how that left wing hack, the so called George H. W. Bush, used to tell us that "it wouldn't be prudent" --- to what? It wouldn't be prudent to look over his left shoulder (but you must remember- his left is your right. See? See how the maniacal Pinkos conspire to confuse good and true, god fearing, right minded, conservative Americans?!!!)

Why? - You may ask. Indeed! Well, isn't it clear why? I mean it's all right out there, plain as day. Keep in mind: We have proof! What proof? Well... never you mind! You must remember the motto of the true conservative: Don't ask, don't ask.


TLS

Just an additional note: RE: Girding of Loins: I am not altogether clear as to the steps to achieving proper girding

From Whence the Violence Comes

Ever since President Obama took office, the right has incorporated violent rhetoric in their message. The Reps and tea party activists have "targeted" the opposition, they have suggested the use of "second ammendment" solutions. They have stated their intent to "take out" an opposition candidate. Any # of right wing political candidates at all levels used guns and targets - often human silhouette type targets, not just bullseyes - and language suggestive of violence against their oponents. Right wing TV - FOX, that is - has lauded the hits on medical people involved in abortions. Right wingnut radio dipsticks have made much more baldly violent threats against the left. Ann Coulter has accused all Democrats and anyone politically to the left of Atilla the Hun as being traitors.


The characterization of Obama, the Dems and the left in general as anti-american, as socialists, as communists, as fascists has fed the flames. Those who appeared at political rallies armed to the teeth reinforced the notion that violence was not only acceptable, but perhaps desired.

All these people can shrug and claim having no responsibility for todays massacre, but they ARE responsible. They know full well that there is and will always be a fringe element - on both extremes of the political spectrum - who are just crazy enough, just disaffected enough, just prone to violence enough to pick up the gauntlet and start shooting.

Ironically, among the worst of them are Sarah Palin, Michelle Bachmann and Sharon Angle - the idiot triumvirate! Those three and all the others who make it a practice to use violent language and evoke violent images when speaking of their political opponents MUST accept responsibility and they MUST remove such allusions from their rhetoric in the future. They cannot be allowed to protest their innocence, but rather, must be held accountable by the public and, perhaps, ultimately, by the courts. To paraphrase the sheriff in Tucson who said in his statement earlier today in reference to the radio and TV pundits and pols' use of violent language - "It might be free speech, but it has consequences." Indeed it does.

TLS

You haff papers? No?

ARIZONA SUCKS!!!

This guy says what I've tried to say but failed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2nfXfTg92E&feature=player_embedded

Haiti and God

It's hard to imagine that an earthquake could have happened at a worse place than Haiti. Haiti is the target of perhaps four or five hurricanes every decade. Haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere. Most people live on the equivalant of one or two dollars a day. These are people who had almost nothing. Now, for many what little they may have possessed is gone along with members of their families and friends.

That chaos will reign there, that violence will ensue is virtually a given. Already there has been video of people out in the streets waving and threatening others with machetes. The difficulty that aide workers are having in simply getting help to the city - rescue crews, medical personnel and equipment, food and water - is exacerbating the situation. Fear, thirst and starvation form a lethal mix.

In much of the coverage I've seen over the past few days, there have been innumerable people thanking god for their deliverance. While that is typical, it is always a mystery to me why a god who supposedly pulls all the strings should be thanked in such circumstances. What thanks do the dead owe to god? What thanks do the injured, starving and homeless owe?

If we assume that god either made the earthquake to happen, or could have prevented it - after all hesheit is omnipotent, right? - then what thanks is hesheit owed from the survivors?

"Thank you god for crushing my little girl's legs and killing the rest of my family. Thank you for destroying my home, my city. And thank you god for making all of our lives a living hell, which by surviving, I'll be able to witness and endure until I ultimately die. Thank you so much!

This is such madness. I just wonder what it might take to wake people up? I know all the pat answers that believers come up with: "It's not ours to question. We cannot hope to understand god's plan..." yada, yada, yada.

I've written all this before - perhaps after 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina or the Tsunami, or some other mindless mass killing or horrendous natural disaster. One can rest assured that after any such event, there will be those thanking god for sparing them.

Let's say we had a king ruling over us, and he caused a town to be destroyed by flood by blowing up a dam, or he marched an army into the town which set about killing hundreds of people at random and destroying their homes and businesses, and so on. Would the survivors struggle out of the rubble and give thanks to the king for not killing them? Or would they, perhaps, become angry and vengeful storming the king's castle?

Of course, the difference in my scenario is that a worldly king is human. He is a corporeal entity. He has a whereabouts. He can be hunted and slaughtered by the angry mob.

You can't do that to god. Hesheit is nowhere to be found. This so called loving god takes cruel swipes at us repeatedly, and yet, people bow down in thankful prayer to himherit. Such faith is lunacy.

Life is often difficult, even for the most gifted and successful of us. Most everyone experiences times of hardship and sadness. As is noted by Lao Tzu in the Tao te ching, life is hard. Life is suffering. We all will die. No matter how rich, no matter how important, no matter how protected, no matter how healthy any of us may be. No matter how great our genes are, at some point we will all shuffle off this mortal coil. Does it really make it easier to cope harboring a belief that some all powerful god is out there in the ether somewhere conducting this cacaphonous symphony of life, suffering and death?

TLS

What's New?

I haven't written here for some time. Not much has happened in the world over the past several months that spurred me to put on my non-believer's hat and my godless fingers to the keys to clap out anything. I can't say that much has changed in that regard, but I was recently struck by a thought - admittedly a silly one - but nevertheless this occured to me:

God, in his wisdom, gave what is now Israel to (surprise!) the Israelites. as their so called Promised Land. Jews to this day continue to fight to the death for that little sliver of land in the midst of the Arab/Muslim hoard.

What occured to me was what if the Israelites had seen or got wind of say what is now the south of France or Tahiti or any of hundreds of other more verdant places around the world, about the time god came along informing Moses' people after their 40 year wandering stint that the very area in which they had settled was IT! - this was their Promised Land?

Mightn't the Israelites have looked about them and then approached god with a question or two?

"Hey, god, ya got a minute? Uh, first, we all want to thank you for this, uh, land. I mean, it's really great. No doubt it'll make a great country for us and all. No trouble getting a tan here, right? And it's good that there aren't any pools of that sticky black gunk here like there are everywhere else around us. What a mess that stuff makes. It flat out trashes a pair of sandals."

"But, we were just wondering, and don't take this the wrong way, but, uh, is this the best you've got? I mean, we are your "chosen people," right? I mean, well, the scuttlebutt is that some of the folks have heard of places that are, um, how can I put this? - more, uh, heavenlike. That's it! That's the ticket! More like heaven! Or at least what we think heaven might be like, I mean not that any of us lowly, scum of the earth, totally unworthy sinners would actually know, but, well, I mean, we can imagine, we do imagine, you know what I mean? Oy, how stupid I am, of course you know what I mean, I mean you're god and, well you know... "

"Uh, anyhow what the guys and gals back at camp have been saying is that this land that you have so generously given us is maybe a bit on the arid side, don't you think? I mean, some of these places that we've heard tell about are said to be actually green! - all the time, or, uh, at least most of the time. They have some wet stuff every morning called - oh what was it, uh - "dew," yeah, something called dew. They say there's grass and trees, and bushes - not burning ones of course, ha, ha - but lots of different kinds of bushes; some with berries growing on them that they say a guy could eat. And there's rain! Buckets of rain! I hear tell that some places get rain almost every day. Boy, that'd be a hoot, wouldn't it? But, still. I mean it just seems that if you're bent on giving us - your chosen people - some place to call our own, that there might be some more, uh, more hospitable, more promising real estate than this. NOT THAT WE'RE COMPLAINING! No, no, we don't want you to think that we're complaining. I mean, as I said, this is really great. Really, really great.I'm sure we can all eventually be happy as clams here. Lots of room to build sacred temples and such. Plenty of sand. Lots and lots of sand. Tons of sand. And camels! Hey, those camels are the nuts! Kinda goofy looking in a certain light, but they can sure get a guy around the desert, don't you know? The kid's are always "cameling" around. Ha, ha."

"But, well, anyway, what do you say G? May I call you G, or L, or L of L? Could you maybe have a look at what else might be available out there, maybe some place where maybe there might be an occasional cool breeze and maybe some water to kinda balance out with the sand?"

"What? I'm sorry. What? You say maybe we should consider building a what? An ark? Ha, ha. What's an ark?"

TLS :)

Whoopie, It's Easter!

Happy Easter to one and all.

Obama. O'Yay!

California's Proposition 8

If you have an interest in gay rights and/or concerns regarding gay marriage click on this and read the article and comments over at Blog Critics Magazine.

Photo: Pineapple mint, anyone?

TLS

Ding, Dong. It's alive, it's alive!!!

Well, I just couldn't take it anymore. Three months ago, I decided to put Rupture to bed. While it has remained quiet, there have, nevertheless been a few people coming by checking things out. Rupture has, in the past few days, been beckoning - "Feed me, feed me!"

So. It's back! I've sent notice to the media. There should be preemptive break-ins over the coverage of Hurricane Ike and the presidential campaign any minute now on all the major networks: "FLASH! RUPTURE THE RAPTURE IS BACK! Film at 11."

What I intend to do is focus pretty much all postings on matters concerning religion/atheism here. I will also maintain Indy Boomer for pretty much all other postings. Boomer hasn't really taken off and perhaps won't, but being an eternal optimist, in time I'm confident that thousands - nay - hundreds of thousands of eager readers will eventually be treading on Indy Boomer's virtual doorstep clamboring for my wit and wisdom.

Note: I caught the above image of angels actually emerging from the walls of a Munich department store building. They proceeded to fly over the street and then alighted together at the entry to a Starbucks across the square. They then entered the store enmasse and all ordered Mango Passion Fruit Frappucinos. It was a truly "grande" sight.

Is God Really in the Details?

Just a question and a note here: How long has man seriously been involved in truly scientific inquiry? Surely, there were some discoveries made going back even thousands of years, but the results of many of those efforts have either been lost, or were thwarted, often by the powers that be.

Only since the Renaissance has there been a more or less uninterrupted and concerted effort to discover our origins along with other scientific inquiry. Given the totality of human history, those few hundred years are hardly a blip on the proverbial screen. Look at what has been accomplished just since, say the middle of the 19th century in science and technology. To believe that humans can NEVER reach a core of understanding about the universe, our origins, and our place within it, is at the least, selling ourselves short.

Much of what we know and can do today would have been thought the stuff of magic or fantasy just a couple hundred years ago. Thousands of people were burnt at the stake for just imagining such things. Humans have an enormous capacity to explore and understand. Most of us, myself included, have no idea about much of it. Scientific research has become so specialized, so concerned with seeming minutia that again, most of us can't relate to it. Ultimately, the trick will be to put it all together, to assimilate all of the discreet data into a cohesive and manageable understanding of it all. I won't predict that we WILL accomplish that, but I do believe we CAN.

While, I suppose it is possible that the ultimate answer to it all could be something that one could aptly call a god, at this juncture, however, that is no more likely than hundreds of other possibilities. Further, the possibility that the answer is an omnipotent, omniscient god consciously involved in the second to second lives of us humans is so remote to be considered ludicrous. It is a human conceit to believe that we are the one and only chosen beings of god.

As I have asked before: What possible interest could an all powerful, all knowing entity have in such insignificant beings such as ourselves? I always think of "Star Trek TNG" and the character "Q" played, I believe, by actor John Delancey, who had god like powers over the fate of all humanity. He was depicted as being contemptuous and bored by humanity, but then alternately intrigued and curious about us as well. In my opinion, the former view would hold sway more often than not.

Ding, Dong, The Witch is Dead!

Well, not really. I mean, she may be in fact dead, but that has no meaning for us here in blog world. I just wanted to let my thousands of relentless fans know that I have set up housekeeping at a new location: Indy Boomer It's not radically different than what I've done here except that I am fashioning it to have a broader appeal than just that boring, old religion/atheism crap.
It is just a beginning, and a humble one at that, but I hope to reach out and touch hundreds of thousands of you (actually, a couple of dozen would be a marked improvement) with my wit and wisdom, my great insight to the world's problems and whatever other drivel I might conjure.

Give me a visit. Pleeeeeeeze!!! Ya'll er welcome.

TLS

The End - I Mean It! Really! No Foolin' Around!

I am no longer posting here. I have not set up new digs as yet, but will, hopefully, in the near future. For anyone interested, check back here from time to time as I will provide a link whenever that happens.

I will keep this old barge afloat for the forseeable future as I want to save some of my posts for posterior, or uh, well, you know what I mean.

At some point though, I will pull the plug and presumably "Rupture" will disappear into the ether of cyberspace. For most, this will be no great loss, I'm sure.

In the mean time, feel free to browse, even comment should you have the urge. I'd love it. I think I put together a few good posts over the last couple of years, and at least in some instances, there arose a good bit of spirited discussion/argumentation. Hey, what better way to spend a glorious spring or summer day than sitting in a darkened room hunched over a computer keyboard reading from the rantings of some unknown godless fat guy from the midwest?

In some ways, I feel like I'm announcing a GOB (going out of business) sale for a cheap furniture store. Whatever.

Terry S.

(Photo - Ravensbruck)

End Game

In a couple of weeks or so, I am going to pull the plug on this old site and put it out of its misery. It has more than run its course, and I really don't have anything much to say. It's all been said.

I doubt that my efforts have changed any minds or even been particularly informative. I went through a period like this several months ago, but found some things that got me going again. That doesn't seem to be happening this time around. I got nothin'.

I may pop up again in another blog incarnation, but I will have to find a compelling purpose to do so. A few readers have been kind in making comments, and I have enjoyed some spirited discussions and debates over the last two and a half years or so. But, it all just seems for naught at this juncture.

So, I am saying bye, bye for now. I only wish I had been somebody, so I could make a come back. Ah well.

TLS

Barack Obama: Rock Star!!!

I witnessed something fairly phenomenal earlier this evening. My wife Jo and I drove downtown to attend an Obama rally, the last prior to Tuesday's primary election. We hemmed and hawed about whether to stop someplace for dinner on the way, but decided to drive by the venue - the American Legion Mall - to see how things looked. This was at around 6PM. The gates were not to open until 7:30. Already there were several thousand people lining up and otherwise milling about in Veterans Memorial Park immediately south of the Mall. We decided to skip dinner and park as near as possible to get into the mix. Walking back to the Mall, we did manage to snare a couple of hot dogs and cans of soda on the way.

There were two separate lines. The line nearest to us as we entered the park and by far the shortest was only for people holding red tickets. Alas, we had no red tickets and could not ascertain just how or where those fortunate few got them. The other, longer line was for all forlorn unticketed souls - the "great unwashed," as it were. So, after snarfing down our drinks and dogs, we started wending our way as directed toward the end of the unticketed line. We never found it. It snaked south out of the park, across Michigan Street and down Pennsylvania Avenue, eventually, we later discovered, reaching Washington Street over seven blocks away. For a time we thought about sitting on a concrete wall at the World War Memorial a little south of the Mall just to listen, rather than test our mettle waiting on line. However, the weather threatened and my ripped-up knee complained - actually screamed at me - to quit this craziness. We left. (I know — fair weather fans.)

Later, we watched a webcast of Obama's speech in the comfort of our humble digs. The speech he gave offered little that was new. It was essentially his stump speech. That wasn't the phenomenon. It was that line.

A few days ago, Obama filled the Indiana University Assembly Hall in Bloomington with around twelve to fifteen thousand people. An earlier rally at the same facility for Clinton garnered her only about thirty-five hundred admirers. I figured that it could be a little crazy at this rally, but I didn't anticipate what we found.

The American Legion Mall is just an open, level, grassy expanse in the middle of downtown Indy that can accommodate something in the area of twenty-five thousand people. Before Obama hit the stage the Mall filled up and many were ultimately turned away. There were, I would estimate, another three or four thousand people settled in the areas surrounding the Mall. I should add that Stevie Wonder played prior to Obama's entrance which may have enticed some to make the effort to attend the rally. But that's nothing unusual. I understand that McCain has the surviving members of Lawrence Welk's "Champagne Music Makers" perform a little "get down" music prior to his rallies.

Seriously though, this rally was a "happening." I would be very surprised if either Clinton or McCain could muster a crowd even remotely as large as that Obama managed tonight. Whether the results from either Indiana or North Carolina prove to be definitive is, as I write, unknown. But, if the crowd that came in support of Barack Obama this evening translates proportionally into votes, Clinton, McCain, and all those in their respective camps had better get ready to duck. Obama just might be the next shot heard round the world - or at least around the country.

Barack Obama is a rock star!

TLS

FLASH!!!

Recent word out of Kinshasha, The Congo claims that area sorcerers have been stealing penises! Yes, penises!!! (I hate when that happens.)

Hard liners in the local constabulary have arrested a number of the suspected thieves charging them with malicious dis-member-ment. As a result it now appears that the market has gone soft.

Remember though. Don't leave home without it!

And now, back to our regular programming.

TLS

RAVENSBRUCK: Quiet Horror

I just wrote this as a comment on another blog - Zoe's "A Complicated Salvation." Please give her a visit, she does good stuff.

After reading through my comment, I decided I would like to share it, in a slightly expanded version with those few of you who visit here from time to time.

An odd thing. As I mentioned in an earlier post my wife and I recently spent about ten days visiting our son who lives in Germany. The day after Easter we toured Ravensbruck, a concentration camp set up by the Nazis primarily to imprison and murder women and children. It obviously wasn't a happy couple of hours for us, but there was something about the atmosphere there that was at once haunting and yet stunningly peaceful.

Inside the walls all of the barracks in which the prisoners lived are gone leaving only an impression in the gravel of the outline of each building as if the collective misery which permeated those buildings left an indelible stain on the ground beneath. There are multiple rows of Linden trees remaining originally planted near the door of each building, a cruelly ironic gesture if given some thought. Far to the rear of the complex are buildings which served as a factory wherein the women and older children manufactured SS uniforms. Otherwise, the space is open, barren.


Outside the confines of the camp itself is a lake with a plaza at the end nearest the camp. On the plaza is a tall pillar topped with the statue of an obviously emaciated woman carrying a dead or dying child. That alone is quite moving.

But one can turn away from the lake, looking back beyond the statue toward the camp and see, scanning from the left, the crematory still in place and the space where the gas chamber once stood. Scanning further one sees a long narrow field of grass and perennial flowers which is a mass grave for over 300 women and children found dead when the camp was liberated by the Russians in 1945. Behind the grave is a wall commemorating all of the various countries from which the prisoners - the women and children - came. According to available reading material only about 16% of all the prisoners brought to Ravensbruck were Jews. Many were "Romas" or gypsies, a variety of political dissidents, even Catholic nuns.

Turning back, I looked once again first at the pillar and statue, then the lake. It was all very serene. It was a cold, but sunny day. I sat for a time atop a low wall adjacent to the lake and took all of it in for a time until Joan and Nick caught me up.

Quietude. The place is, in its own way unexpectedly beautiful - the surroundings, not the camp. Ravensbruck is situated north of Berlin in what is Germany's lake country - its Wisconsin if you will.

Looking through many of the displays and photos of the camp when active, has the effect of jangling one's sensibilities. One tends to respond that this is just not possible! This happened in the middle of the 20th century, a time we consider to be part of the modern, supposedly civilized era. How could anyone so purposefully, so methodically carry out such barbarism? And yet, there it is.

Over one hundred thousand women, children and a small number of men perished at Ravensbruck. It's not even one of the larger or well known camps.

I wanted to cry. I felt like I should cry. I just couldn't.

TLS

AIRPORT FUN AND GAMES

Yes, we're back. We hit Indy at around six on Thursday evening, after bidding farewell to our son and Berlin some twenty hours earlier. It seemed almost fitting that it was raining about as hard as it could as I dashed the thirty or so feet to my car from the shuttle bus I'd caught at the terminal out to the long-term lot, where I'd parked.

I suddenly realized I was being pelted by small hail as well. By the time I managed to open the door of our red mid-90s Le Sabre, (ubiquitous amongst people beyond a certain age) rip off my coat, and flop down in the front seat, I was soaked pretty much through. I had been overly thorough in cleaning out the car prior to our leaving, so there was really nothing with which to dry my head, face, and hands. I used a couple of those small, travel-sized tissues to daub the rain from my forehead and eyes as best as I could.

I started the car with rain still dripping from my hair and drove over to the exit gate to pay the $70.50 parking fee. (Not bad, I guess, for ten days, right?) I made my way back to the terminal to gather up my wife and our luggage for the final leg of our trip home.

The house smelt a bit musty and was dead still as we entered. Nevertheless, it's always great after an extended trip away to make your way into your living room, drop whatever you might be lugging, and plop down on the couch with a relieving sigh - to sit with eyes closed, your head reposed on the sofa back uttering "Oh man, we're home!"

In the couple of days since, I've had some time to consider our experience during the ten days spent in Germany. I hope to go into more detail about some of it soon, but for now I'll just discuss some observations regarding air travel.

If you want to experience what it could be like to live under a police state, fly - anywhere. You'll get a more in depth experience if you take an international flight, but almost any time spent in a commercial airport will give you a taste of Big Brother.

Frequent travelers probably don't generally notice much. They know the drill. They carry minimal luggage, perhaps dress in such a way that the walk through security will take minimal time and effort: slip-on shoes, little or nothing left in pockets, no big belt buckles. They keep their heads down, their mouths shut, and just go with the flow. Since security procedures have evolved fairly slowly since before the millennium, it probably seems to most of these hardy souls just business as usual.

They come to know the venues, the airports - the concourses, the shops, the bars and restaurants, the restrooms, the gates - they haunt on a regular basis. They know the planes and their configurations. If they're fortunate enough to fly business or first class, they know once aboard, the flight will be, well, like flying. If, however, they must travel in coach, they learn where best to choose their seats in the various planes. I'm told that on some planes it's best to sit in the emergency exit aisles which may afford more leg room and/or may have only two seats across rather than the usual three. I'm sure there are other tricks of the trade as well.

For the casual, infrequent traveler, an airport is a foreign, nerve-wracking, and even frightening experience. Once on airport property, the rules of behaviour change. Observing driving, stopping, loading/unloading, and parking rules takes on a heightened importance.
Upon entering the terminal, one becomes aware of a greater regimentation that increases perceptively starting with the lines at the ticket counter, confronting the airline's agent, schlepping bags up onto the scales, getting boarding passes, making one's way haltingly from the counter to the proverbial point of no return just prior to entering the security maze, leaving your unticketed loved ones behind, perhaps never to be seen again.

The whirlwind truly begins at security. Travelers are directed to lines feeding into the various screening devices somewhat reminiscent of checking out at the grocery. Here you are not emptying your grocery cart; rather, you are emptying your pockets, placing your keys, change, glasses, maybe your Ipods, coats, hats, carry-on bags, and yes, your damn shoes into plastic bins which you are instructed to roll forward into the maw of the ex-ray machines.

Meanwhile, you are directed to step through the personal x-ray and "sniffer" which blows an unexpected puff of air over your body, invariably setting off a buzzer or bell of some kind. Officers then direct these hapless guys and gals to step aside and stand arms raised for a wand sweep up and down their bodies, hesitating, hovering when and where the thing beeps. Unusual or unexpected beeps result in the offending souls being directed to a small screened-off area of some sort wherein they may be directed to drop trou, as I was, revealing the braces for my arthritic knees, which I had forgotten to remove prior to entering security.

Because I have sleep apnea, I bring what is known as a CPAP machine allowed as an extra medical carry-on. This machine always perplexes Transportation Security Agency (TSA) inspectors, who invariably dismantle the damn thing, wiping it down with little explosive trace detecting cloths, leaving it to me to reassemble and replace in the carrying case while I am still juggling all my shit - my other carry-on bag, coat, shoes, change, keys while also holding up my still unbuttoned pants as inspectors urge me to move on to make way for the next potential hijacker or suicide bomber.

While no one was particularly unpleasant with us, most were and are generally polite, even at times deferential, neither is there much tolerance for confusion, resistance, anger, or even humor. It is expected that everyone simply respond willingly, obediently to each and every direction: "Step forward, please." "Turn this way." "Ma'am, stay behind the red line." "Raise your arms, sir." "Drop your arms, sir." "Don't move." "Let's keep it moving." We are expected to answer questions briefly and succinctly with no embellishments, no unwanted histrionics, no unsolicited explanations. This, most will say, is as it should be.

To those who remember the world before 9/11 and before the millennium — a world wherein travelers were looked upon more as guests and valued as job security — the current atmosphere in airports is one in which people are taken to be potential criminals. It's nearly incomprehensible. Now we are all suspects.

Note also that it is far easier to get out of the country than to get back in. On our trip out, leaving first from Indy and then Newark, the inspections were comparatively cursory. We each had two carry-on bags and only my machine was given any particular scrutiny.

The real challenge came when leaving Berlin. At the counter we were forced to consolidate everything into one carry-on each - counting even my wife's purse requiring impromptu, Olympic-quality stuffing. Then we ran the gauntlet as described above. Upon landing again in Newark, we were first stopped at immigration. Then we had to retrieve our luggage and schlepp it to another location where they were to be rechecked for the flight to Indy even though it was the same airline we came in on.

On the way to the check-in we were stopped and quizzed by a fellow wanting to know if we had any fruits, vegetables, or seeds with us or in our luggage. "Uh, no." We must not have been terribly convincing as we were directed to go through a set of doors to yet another set of scanning machines into which we were further directed to place all of our luggage and other stuff for fruit and veggie scrutiny.

Once again, they opened the bag with my CPAP machine, presumably expecting to find clandestine broccoli, pomegranates or rutabagas in it. Not until we were sitting in our living room did I feel we could no longer fear someone snooping through our belongings. I should add that with all this, we didn't suffer any long delays, missed flights, or even lost luggage. Everything from that standpoint was essentially normal.

I worked for the now defunct TWA back in 1969/70. It was a far different world. During my tenure there, the first American passenger plane was hijacked to Cuba. Say what? Little did we know. The first couple of months of my employment were spent working on the ramp loading and unloading bags, mail, freight, and so on. On a few occasions I got some overtime by staying to clean the interior of planes parked for the night. At that time, anyone could have boarded one of them. Security was essentially non-existent. On more than one occasion I made my way up front taking a seat in the captain's chair and played pilot. I did have the sense not to flip any switches or push any buttons, but still.

Back then an airport was a pleasant, welcoming, and even prestigious place to go. Airlines competed for business and treated people traditionally as customers - people paying for and expecting deferential treatment. Flying could be a white-knuckle experience for some, then as now, but every effort was made to put nervous flyers at ease. Stewardesses (there were few stewards at that time) graduated from smile school. They always sported pleasant, if at times toothy, grins across their invariably pert, blemishless faces. Flying was the safest way to fly.

'Tis a far different world we now find ourselves in. A large thank you goes out to Osama, George, and the rest of the gang.

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Greetings From Deutschland

We made it to Berlin Tuesday morning after what, as I had anticipated was a wonderfully pleasurable flight, relaxing in the sauna, playing a couple of rousing games of ping pong down on the recreation deck, sipping mai-tais with the crew and singing karaoke in the lounge. In my dreams.

Actually, as I really predicted, we were stuffed into our seats like sausage meat into pig intestines in the economy section of the 757-B. Periodically, they brought us drinks and what they claimed was food a couple of times. At one point during the "meal" a young, waiflike boy rose up at the rear of the plane clutching his small bowl and stated in his tiny but plaintive voice "I want more." More?!! Bumbole roared. "No one ever asks for more!" Well no, actually, that's in a scene from "Oliver," but I presume you get my drift.

Sometime after feeding us they started running a movie up in first class, while in coach, they just passed around a View Master with a series of pictures of various midwestern barns having "See Rock City" painted on their roofs. (The "3D" effect in that View Master is truly amazing. It's just like being there, standing in front of those barns. What won't they think of next.) America is truly a great country!

Well, once again, I must confess that I have been, how you say, pulling the leg. Ha,ha. Actually, we were treated with the very high minded and artfully understated film version of the venerable "Starsky and Hutch." Again, I say, America is... yada, yada, yada.

The seat was so roomy and comfortable, I must have slept for as long as 12 to 15 minutes during the 7+ hour flight. The only part of me that got any real sleep was my butt which remained pretty much numb for the duration. I did get an aisle seat as I had hoped, but of course that meant I got whacked in the arm or shoulder every time someone passed by in the aisle. I have the tomato juice stains to prove it.

Nevertheless, we did eventually land at Tegel Airport in Berlin with most of our parts and luggage more or less in tact. We were also more or less on time, and my son was there to pick us up. After a cup-o-joe at the airport Starbucks (where else) we drove into the city for a bit of sight seeing.
We wound up at the Jewish Museum. Here is where the story takes a bit of a turn.

Any readers familiar with the museum know its scope and what we saw there. Suffice to say that it is not solely a Holocaust museum. It is primarily devoted to the history of Judaism and the Jewish people which, of course, includes the Holocaust. It is set up in three basic levels. The upper level recounts the early development of Judaism. The second level is devoted to the evolution of Jewish culture, society and family, culminating with the first years of Nazism and the harbingers of what was to come. The lowest level then is devoted almost wholly to the holocaust.

We spent roughly two hours there which would tell anyone familiar with the museum that we didn't really take in much. That, I suppose, is true. We had come more or less directly from the airport and our 20 or so hours since leaving home. Our exhaustion, coupled with my sore and swollen knees made the tour a bit arduous and painful. Perhaps that is in some respects an effective way to do it. I'm certainly not suggesting that my situation is in any way analogous to the suffering endured by Holocaust victims. But discomfort is a theme that runs through the exhibit starting with the architecture. The new and larger portion of the museum designed by Daniel Libeskind apparently looks like a slash or lightening strike over the landscape when seen from the air. The building is fraught with odd angles, deceptively sloping floors and odd shapes. Windows offer small, almost tantalizing glimpses of the outside world. Interior "voids" offer just that - void, a sense of nothingness. The last of these voids and the largest, is a space of bare concrete, the floor strewn with "Fallen Leaves," several thousand anguished iron faces of the expelled and murdered Jews.

While, as I said, we spent a scant two hours there, the museum had a definite effect on me. The architecture, the voids and especially two features located on the ground level near the end of the tour were most effective. First, the "Garden of Exile." One enters through a deformed doorway leading outside to a space taken with several vertical pillars each having some type of willow tree growing at the top which, at least in early spring, look more akin to barbed wire. The walls, the floors, the aforementioned door and other visual aspects are all disconcertingly at odd angles rendering it difficult to navigate, apparently at times making people effectively sea sick. Second, is the "Holocaust Tower," which Libeskind describes as a "void of voids" also an exterior space - a triangle of concrete walls rising upwards perhaps 60 or 70 feet. Once the access door is closed, one is suddenly aware of the isolation. There are no windows, only a small slash of light at the very top. On one wall is a series of steps, the lowest of which are inaccessible, reaching up to nothing in the dim light. A sense of confinement and claustrophobia, rose in me almost immediately. I couldn't get out quickly enough. Apparently, earlier on, once someone entered the space, the door remained closed and would not reopen for around 3 minutes. They stopped that practice because too many people were freaking out in isolated panic. I left the museum exhausted, hobbled in pain and deeply moved. I didn't take in much of the detail - the small exhibits of photos, letters, bits and pieces of families torn asunder, lives lost - but the effect, I think, was the same. The scope of this hideous tragedy was not lost on this patron. In what amounts to a sad footnote, all accesses to the Jewish Museum are blocked by large concrete cubes designed to keep all vehicles at bay, and it is necessary that every visitor go through security screening including ex-ray just as at any airport to gain entrance. Security guards, cameras, and who knows what other monitoring devices abound throughout the complex. This tour made for a sobering beginning to our visit, but perhaps aptly so. It helps to put everything one sees and does in Germany in a different perspective. While there is much history, beauty and greatness on display here, the Jewish Museum serves as a reminder that insanity and horror lie just around the corner.

Deutschland, Here We Come!

My wife and I are beginning to put things together for a trip to Germany in what is just over a week from now. We have flown overseas a couple of times; the first time to Vienna the week prior to the millenium and then to Germany a couple of years ago, also around the Christmas/New Year holidays.

We're making this trip to visit our older son, whom we haven't seen in over a year. On both of our previous trips we were accompanied by our younger son, who, while not fluent in German as is his brother, still has a basic understanding of it and can converse enough to help us get to where we're going or whatever. This time, however, he cannot make the trip for a variety of reasons — something to do with his life. (Jeeze! Any excuse just to leave poor old mom and dad in the lurch.)

I am, consequently, a bit more apprehensive about this trip as neither my wife nor I have any knowledge of the language. I have tried listening to a German language learning program and have a phrase book, but I haven't managed to get much beyond "Wo ist der toiletten?"

Our older son reassures us that he will be there, "Johann on the spot," when we arrive, and won't let us out of his sight during the ten or so days we'll be spending in Deutschland. Yeah, right.

My wife and I are "getting on in years." both of us having eclipsed the 60-year threshold. By today's standards that's not really old, I guess, but neither is it young. As I've recounted here in previous articles and comments, almost ad nauseam, I have creaky, arthritic knees, and I am now sporting a painfully sore lower back. Add to that the fact that I'm a veritable tub of guts weighing in at over 250 pounds of flaming love! (That would sound better in kilos, wouldn't it? What — 114 kilos or so?) Consequently, according to my ortho guy, I'm putting something like a thousand pounds of pressure on my knees and back with every step I take. Great! My wife has a number of ailments big and small, that I won't go into in respect of her privacy, but suffice to say, we are neither one of us in the pinnacle of health.

Our older son, now in his late twenties is small and lithe — he runs. Crap! He runs! I was once told by a kindly drill sergeant during my stint in the "U.S. of Army" that if my life depended on my ability to run, I would likely wind up as hamburger. Food for thought. My son weighs in at around 130 pounds. That's pounds, not kilos! I haven't tipped the scale at 130 pounds since I was in the fourth grade. Well, my first born, and his younger brother - also a runner - tend to leave their mother and I in the dust say, on the way to catching a bus or train. They're young and just doesn't understand. We can no longer move like the wind. Now, we only pass it.

A sign of my aging mind: I am packing stupid things like packets of ketchup and mustard, sugar, artificial sweetener, coffee creamer and so on. I even have some mayo and pickle relish — all stolen from area eateries. I've pretty much gone completely wacko. Give me another year or two, and I'll be taking an entire suitcase loaded with toilet paper. For now, I'm going to settle for a dozen or so of those little travel packets of Kleenex. I suppose I'll throw in a few hundred sanitary wipes and a gallon or so of Purel.

Of course, we will be accompanied by a veritable traveling pharmacy — pills, salves, tonics, solutions of every description and purpose. Can't go doody? I'll have something to grease the chute. Can't stop going doody? I'll have something else to slam the chute shut. I suppose we could get busted for running drugs, but that's a chance we'll have to take.

The part of the trip I dread the most are the two trans-Atlantic flights. We will be flying to Newark and then on to Berlin. The Newark flight I can handle. But once they wedge us into our seats in the tourist section of the plane to (and from) Berlin, we will be more or less screwed for the next 8 hours or so. All of my claustrophobic tendencies will come screaming to the surface. Should I be forced to sit in a middle seat, I just might explode. I can't even handle a window seat. The aisle is the place for me. There, I can sort of stretch one leg straight out, at least when there's no food or drink cart being wheeled up and down the aisle, and I have one side of me not rubbing up against another body or the wall of the plane. Comparatively, on the aisle, the air is fresh and clean! The world is brimming with possibilities! I can get up without forcing anyone else to get up first, and just step out into the aisle and actually walk! It may be for only three or four steps in either direction, but, hey, that's better than being trapped in what the airlines laughingly refer to as seats. Tourist or economy class seating tends to be less "roomy" than your average casket.

The stewards and stewardesses do their best to keep everyone busy, mainly eating and drinking. And then, there is the occasional hot towelette to wipe the flop sweat off of the passengers' faces.

I intend to take a number of things with me on the plane to keep me amused — at least one book, a magazine or two, perhaps a recorded book, and of course my little iPod-like device for "gittin' down wif my toons." Maybe a book of crosswords. Unfortunately, I don't do Sudoku and I'm not a video game kind of guy. I'll probably also have a variety of snacky food just to see if I can actually gain weight during the flight — say a bucket of KFC (extra crispy) with a pint of gizzards? Or how about a few cans of sardines? No, that would be too ironic. Then, of course there will presumably be the "in-flight movies." I hope they've finally stopped showing Will Smith's Wild, Wild West, and the "best of" Rob Schneider.

When we arrive, our son will not let us rest. He will insist that we keep going despite our exhaustion, so that we will overcome any jet lag quickly. Of course, if we stroke out, or our hearts explode, jet lag shouldn't really be a problem.

A couple of years ago on our last trip, we spent only a part of one day - New Year's Day as it happens - in Berlin. Our son lives in a small town an hour or so north of Berlin, so I assume that we will be able to take in more of the sights there. Believe it or not, when we were last in Berlin we stopped at two - not one, but two - different Dunkin Donuts shops. (Oh, yeah, Dunkin Donuts are BIG in Berlin!)

We did manage to have a really great dinner at a restaurant called "Bangin." (Yeah, that's what I thought too, but no, it's just a restaurant. Probably something lost in translation.) I don't have any idea where it is, somewhere requiring a rather long subway ride from the center of the city, but it was well worth the time. I hope we find our way back there. As anyone reading this may have gathered, I like food. I was raised on it.

I think we will also go hang around the American Embassy which I believe is nearly on top of the Brandenburg Gate and see if we can get arrested or something. (Quiz: Do you know what's on the other side of the Brandenburg Gate? Don't over-think it. Answer: Brandenburg! Ha, ha. Isn't that great? Who'da thunk it?)

Well, I guess I'll take a few minutes and trim back my little black mustache as a kind of "arms across the waters" gesture. Then, I'll practice going stir crazy

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