Ugh! The dog and I: just back from an hour+ perambulation of the neighborhood park. Serenaded every damn step of the way with ROAR ROAR ROAR blasting out of Luke AFB’s jet planes.
When we lived in Sun City, my mother used to start each day sitting on her screen porch, sipping coffee and listening to the interminable ear-splitting blast from those F-15s, which would start the day at dawn and scream on for several hours.
“Ohhhhh,” she would simper, “it’s the sound of fweedom!”
Uhm…no, muther… That’s the sound of World War III, comin’ our way.
Fortunately, it hasn’t arrived yet.
But don’t worry. It will. It will.
That air base is a good 20 miles away from the ‘Hood — or more. But the blast of the jet engines sounds like the damn things are in our backyard.
Anyway, that turned a clear, clean afternoon stroll into something kinda…grody. Noisy. Loud. Threatening. Scary if you have even a clue what those things are intended to do.
Horrible creature, the human animal…