Please miracle me through the air above the great plains, over the Mississippi and into the oval office. I have something to say. Or, just outfit me with enough tack and ordinance and I will renounce citizenship, go over there as an unaffiliated trigger man and I will kill ISIS.. Something must be done. We are about to lose Kobani. We are about to lose our soul. At this point I start pacing, staring vacantly at the floor and twisting the right handlebar of my droopy mustache.
This is the beginning of the long string of massacres I predicted in “Panetta Jumps Ship” I knew it would be an emotional whitewater. I feel like I am watching a child drowning just a few feet away. I am drawn to the sound of the guns, but I can do nothing.