"So far, no one has been charged in the alleged terror plot to blow up several airplanes across the Atlantic. No evidence has been produced supporting the contention that such a plot was indeed imminent. Forgive me if my skepticism just ratcheted up a little notch. Under a law that the Tories helped weaken, the suspects can be held without charges for up to 28 days. Those days are ticking by. Remember: the British authorities had all these people under surveillance; they did not want to act last week; there was no imminent threat of anything but a possible "dummy-run," whatever deranged guest-bloggers at Malkin say. (Correction, please.) Bush and Blair discussed whether to throw Britain's airports into chaos over the weekend before the crackdown occurred."That word, 'imminent' is important, I think. It was thrown about on news reports for days after the plot was revealed and I haven't heard anything about anyone retracting it. We know now that we were never in danger of being blown out of the sky that day, so not imminent. And now the British ambassador to Uzbekistan says that some of these supposed plane-bombers didn't even have passports. How close, exactly, can a terrorist be to getting on a transatlantic flight in order to bomb it that terrorist doesn't even have their passport yet? I'm looking forward to hearing all of the details about this alleged plot in the next few weeks, because right now this thing stinks.
Anyway, enough about our untrustworthy government. On to my life.
Here's a question I'll pose through a lengthy set-up: I was out getting the mail today (which, along with my trip to the garbage was my only excursion outside of the apartment today), and just as I emerge out of the shadow of my building, I see a sad-eyed beagle puppy crawling on its belly through the grass towards me. At first, I was going to let the dog be and go on my way, but the dog got closer, nearly to my shoe, so I had to stop, hunker down and say hello to it. It was on a leash and I looked up to see a man, a few years younger than myself, holding the other end. While I petted the dog's little beagle skull I asked, "What's its name?" "Peanut," he said. "Hello, Peanut," I said in a gruff but cheery baby-talk voice. When I was finished patting the dog, I looked up, gave the guy a quick nod as if to say, "Your animal meets with my approval," and I went on my way to the mailboxes. Now. The question. Was that weird of me? To say more to the guy's dog than to the person himself? Was the friendly nod sufficient? What's proper pet admiration etiquette? Do I have to make small talk or else ignore the animal completely? Or have I just become an apartment-dwelling recluse who doesn't know how to interact with other humans anymore?
Anyway. Wednesday's just a couple short hours from the recordbooks, so now: readin' and sleepin'. More blog tomorrow.