One last all-bloggage day as things wrap up on my horse-eating project:
My friend Ron French has a pretty good story in today’s DetNews, a tick-tock on Flight 253:
Passengers throughout the midsection of the airplane stood up to investigate a noise some described as a popped balloon, others as a firecracker. A flight attendant, unable to locate the source, asked passengers to sit down and buckle up because the airplane was traveling through turbulence.
Jay Howard could tell the noise was close. He asked his seatmate if he smelled smoke, but Abdulmutallab said nothing. The Nigerian still had the blanket pulled up to his chin, but something was different. Small wisps of smoke wafted from below the blanket.
Howard lifted the blanket, and a billow of smoke rose toward the ceiling and spread across nearby rows.
One thing I don’t understand: What did they feed the guy — or what the guy fed himself, before or during the flight — that would overcome the natural pain response even a brainwashed terror-zombie would feel with his pants on fire. I mean, when you read this…
Abdulmutallab’s hands were inside the front of his pants. Abdulmutallab pulled them out. Both hands were on fire.
…you gotta wonder. The other passengers said he looked “like a zombie.” I don’t doubt it. However, the line between “stoned enough to feel no pain while setting one’s pants on fire” and “still alert enough to carry out the plan” has to be pretty fine.
Bart Stupak is getting hate mail, and it’s not even from his constituents. Has this ever happened before in the history of the House of Representatives? I don’t think so.
Fun fact to know and tell: Rough population of Stupak’s district, i.e., the Upper Peninsula of Michigan: 300,000 and a smidge. Area: 16,452 square miles. And you thought all the wide open spaces in this country were west of the Missouri River.
Why I never donate to telethons or benefit concerts: It’s like wetting your pants in a navy-blue suit, only less effective for alleviating suffering.
Finally, a link to the newest trailer for “Treme,” the new David Simon series on HBO. This one features John Goodman as
Ashley Morris a foul-mouthed college professor who bears a passing resemblance to one who used to hang out in our very group, plus, as Laura Lippman points out, the obligatory HBO-show pole dancer. It is, however, safe for work, i.e., the Ashley-swears are snipped and the pole dancer keeps her bra on. Enjoy.