Under Attack

Gerry's Corner: It sure is a lot tougher to blog regularly when you're presumed to be dead. I've had to wear disguises whenever I go to the internet cafés near my secret location. Hats, scarves, Uggs. It can be exhausting to be secretly alive.

Front Page: I know that many of you were breathlessly hoping that I would write chapter one of Gerry and Not-Betty: A Love Story, but I've decided to hold off on that. For one thing, it wouldn't be fair for me to write my side of our romance without giving Not-Betty the opportunity to offer her own perspective, but since she doesn't know I'm living and breathing, it's probably not feasible for that to happen. I'll work on that, though. Maybe I'll have a guest blogger who's in on our little secret write as though he was her and channel her love for me.

For another thing, though, how can we continue on today as we had in previous days, now that we live in a new and frightening America? I certainly no longer take my life for granted, now that yet another terrorist attack has been perpetrated on domestic soil. Even more terrible, the enemy doesn't look like any that we've seen before:



These suicide bombing America-haters spread themselves all over downtown Boston two days ago, stopping traffic and menacing the populace. Once again, the police and fire departments acted as heroes, rushing towards the conflagration while the average citizens sat paralyzed, many in states of cynical bemusement brought on by the liberal elites in the media. But Boston's finest only uncovered the tip of the iceberg - these destructive devices have infiltrated the retail market! Before you know it, kids will be training for jihad by constructing their own similar devices. We may already be too late.

The worst part is that it's pretty clear that the men who brought this new wave of terror to our country were not even intellectually powerful or especially crafty. I mean, come on now:



Look at them!

These are the schmucks who we're spending billions of dollars in Iraq to protect ourselves against?! They're laughing at us. And we're letting them! Why have we not hung them like Saddam, or one of his associates whose head was so loosely attached that it popped off like a dandelion when he was dropped through the gallows? It's been 48 hours or so - the United States demands swift justice. Anything less is unconscionable.

At least there are some people who understand the significance of today's strike:



Gerry's Corner Redux: One last thing. A confession. Two days ago, back in the pre-1/31 world, Dukakis and I were playing a sweaty game of grappling. We were doing it old-school. Singlets, no brass knuckles, no technical takedowns. But man, the next morning my back was killing me. And over and over in my head, I was hearing Dukakis's voice in my head. Your pros don't outweigh your cons. Say my name, Gerry. You were never elected president. Your pros don't outweigh your cons. Say my name. The pain was too much for me to bear. I took three Advils, all at once. I know you're supposed to only take two at a time, but I couldn't help it. You were never elected president. Never mind that Dukakis had been a spectacular failure as a candidate - at least he'd gotten to ride around in a tank. Not me. Not good ol' Gerry Ford. I'd pardoned Nixon, but why couldn't I pardon myself?

Anyway, the three Advils deadened the pain, at least in my back. Since it's an over-the-counter drug, it's not particularly lethal, after all. Next time I grapple with Dukakis, maybe I'll make him have to take some advanced medicine for pain. Unless we're both off fighting terrorists on their turf, here in our new world.

There is no Soviet domination of Eastern Europe,
Gerry