OMG! ... The Country Is Still Safe, and Standing!

I have to say, I am having some difficulty writing this.

You see, my hands are trembling, making for many errors, while my body aches, still encased in fear.

It began early last evening, a fairly low-key Saturday night, with no special plans in place.

And once I remembered, it became anything but, and if I did have special plans, they'd be thrown out the window (that is before I wrapped them up with plastic and duct tape).

I kept staring at the clocks in the house, whatever room I moved to-and-from.

As I did this, I couldn't help hearing in my head, the theme song from 'High Noon', playing over-and-over ... At times, I would find myself quietly singing it ... "Do not forsake me O my darlin' ..."

Would they come in, by train, like Frank Miller?

It wasn't my wedding day, but, oh no, would I die alone? Should I run out, grab the first woman I see and get married - all before the stroke of midnight?

Would there be time to do all the paperwork? Make her my Emergency Contact, download and fill in a quick Last Will and Testament? Should I leave everything to her, should she survive?

Then another fear whacked me like a three-ton locomotive - Should I go out shopping?

The Commander Guy has, pretty consistently, advocated, urged and otherwise encouraged us to go out shopping, a don't-let-them- win-kind-of-thing ...

And this put me in a terrible state of confusion - do I go out shopping before it happens, or after it happens?

My computer was still downloading the Last Will and Testament, so I couldn't go out to The Google, and search for that.

And I still had windows to button up with the plastic and duct tape (moments like this, you can't help but curse that you live in a big house).

And the High Noon theme seemed to be getting louder and louder with each passing minute.

As I slapped the plastic against the last window that needed to be covered up, I noticed my next-door neighbors' windows were open and clear, no plastic-and-duct-tape on them ... Hmmm ... Poor bastards, I thought ... I hope it will be quick and painless for them ... I hope they're not hysterical screamers (this was a point where I was wishing the High Noon theme was playing louder in my head) ... I did make a note, in the notebook I started earlier in the day, to go down to City Hall - if it was still standing - and make an inquiry on my neighbors property ... Maybe, it I get there early ...

I checked the box of food and water I had stored, everything looked good.

OMG! ... What about ice? ... I quickly scanned my notebook, to see if I jotted down FEMA's number, to call them after it happens, and see if they still have any ice left.

Made a check, and the bathtub was still full of water, though it was considerably colder now (Hmmm, maybe I should have waited to do that last).

When I passed the next clock, the fear took a tighter grip of me.

It was well into the 11-O'clock hour and I couldn't help but obsess on how it will come ... A quick, bright flash, or a big, resounding boom? Damn, I thought, I should have left one window without the plastic and duct tape, so I could have a view, maybe keep sentry, perhaps seeing which way they will come from.

High Noon theme again ... If I did see them coming, what would I do?

Should I do something, or just call the authorities, and let them do something? Would there be enough time for that?

That quickly shifted to thinking, would the authorities believe me, or would they think I was one of them?

No camera in the cell phone so I couldn't talk with the authorities, snap a quick photo and email it to them all at once.

I quickly dug through the barricade I built in front of my den, deeming that as my last point of refuge, so I could get in there and dig out my camera (Old Minolta, but a good one, when they still made them with steel bodies), popped in a roll of film ... When they find my body, maybe I would have had time to snap a few pics that they could use in some future trial, if they ever catch them ...

I think the cacophony of the High Noon theme playing in my head, the smell of the duct tape and plastic wafting through the house, the dust the got kicked up breaking through the barricade, put me in a frenzy, as the clock was inching closer to the midnight hour.

For I was awoken, somewhere between the hours of 2AM-to-3AM, - startled awake, I should add - by a wicked sound.

I quickly realized that it was the wind, rattling my windows, not some al Qaeda terrorist attempting to break in and kill me.

I drifted off again, only to be startled a second time, when the alarm clock rang off this morning, fearing, for a moment that I had left my television on, and the Emergency Broadcast System was breaking in, not with their usual "weekly test" but with an "actual emergency".

I dressed quickly and ran out the front door - my street, my neighborhood was still intact!

No billowing smoke coming from any of the structures.

No charred, smoldering, blown-apart automobiles anywhere in sight.

The Protect America Act expired, but the country didn't.

Those lying sons-of-bitches.

Or maybe, just maybe, the terrorist know that the Protect America Act was only about protecting and giving the Telcoms immunity, and that the U.S. Government still has a boatload of options on tracing their calls, reading their emails and otherwise tracking them down.

Maybe the terrorists where all caught up in all the excitement of NBA Weekend, hanging out to watch the All-Star game ... Or the Daytona 500.

It's the President's Day holiday, so maybe their busy going through the newspapers, and planning on going automobile shopping.

Boy, that would be a kicker ...

After all of The Commander Guy's exhortations to go shopping, wouldn't that be the cat's ass if it was the terrorists who were the ones going out shopping?


Bonus Faux Fear Riffs

Jane Hamsher/Firedoglake: The FISA Dishonesty Hour

The Carpetbagger Report: Don’t believe the FISA hype — ‘The sky is not falling’

mcjoan/Daily Kos: How quickly we forget