Yesterday afternoon was
one of those times when the outlandish possibility that the world might be
about to end creeps into your mind. There I was having a delicious Italian Stallion
sub at Big Al’s with some friends over lunch, when news breaks that a Malaysian
777 with 295 souls aboard had been shot down over Ukraine by a surface to air missile.
Among the dead, 23 Americans. To the families of the dead I suppose it doesn’t
matter who fired the missile, but that’s all the talking heads seemed to care
about. Was it the Russians, the Ukrainians, or the separatist rebels? If it turns out to be the Russians, what will
President Obama do?
As if this wasn’t
enough, word then came that the Israelis had begun a ground invasion of the
Gaza strip. No dead Americans, but lots of explosions and tracer fire flying
across the television screen and somber, earnest reporters breathlessly wondering
what this escalation will do to the “peace process.” We were told that
Secretary of State John Kerry was headed to the region for emergency talks.
Gas, meet fire. Then, to add insult to injury, Bubba Watson made a triple bogey
at the British Open. My chances of finishing my lunch without severe heartburn
vanish. I glance over at a panel of sports reporters on ESPN2 having a
discussion on how all of the day’s events will effect Lebron’s legacy. It was
all just too much.
So, let’s recap. The
most snake bitten airline in history loses another plane due to some trigger
happy Russian/Ukrainian/ Separatist nutjob. Obama heads to the Hamptons for a
fundraiser. The Jews and Palestinians are at each other’s throats for the
16,000th time over the last 4000 years of recorded history, and we
send Lurch over there (for reasons that escape me) to mediate, or get caught in
the crossfire, whichever comes first. Bubba Watson proves once again that he
can’t play golf in any tournament with the word “Open” in the title. What a
day!
Meanwhile, the
afternoon’s events have had the effect of taking the southern border crisis out
of the news cycle. No more pictures of crying children, angry protesters, or
earnest info-babes wondering what President Obama is going to do about all those
poor kids.
If I were him, I’d head
to the Hamptons too!
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