Stop The Insanity, I'm Buying...

Former Louisiana governor Bobby Jindel recently penned a Wall Street Journal opinion piece suggesting that, like smoking, alcohol should be banned from all commercial airline flights.  His thesis being that drinking passengers cause most of the unfortunate airborne incidents that seem to grow more prevalent by the day.

I beg to differ!  What's the rule for pilots? As I recall it's "twelve hours from bottle to throttle" demanded by the FAA for the men and women who fly today's Greyhound buses of the air.   Although I'm fairly certain that a full bar in the cockpit might alleviate some of the tedium, it's probably a good idea for someone to be sober enough to find the correct airport when fuel is low and it's time to land. (Make it O'Douls for breakfast flight crew!  Don't worry, you'll pee just as much.)  For the rest of us trapped in too small seats with too little air the humane thing would be to provide an open complimentary full-tilt boogie "all you can drink" BAR.  It's the least the pirates of the sky can do after we've been forced marched through TSA check points (Thanks terrorists!) and the colossal cluster f*&k  referred to as "the boarding process."  "Here, let me help you cram that refrigerator into the overhead bin you moronic old moon bat."

I'm senior enough to remember when flying was kind of fun.  People dressed up to take a flight and--I know this is unbelievable--CHECKED their bags, walked onto the plane and settled in to a seat wide enough for the admittedly smaller American ass of yore and enjoyed a nice ride to Dysfunction, Ohio or wherever the "friendly skies" were bound.  These days the typical traveler looks like they were busy power washing the garage and said, "Screw it, I think I'll fly to Buffalo."  They also are sporting the ever expanding "orca sized" American butt now responsible for sinking boats on the water rides at Disneyland and Disney World.  (True! Look it up.)  It was props instead of jets in the good old days but you had plenty of room, were fed actual meals, other passengers were acquainted with bathing and the wobble water was free flowing.  Often I found myself not caring who landed the plane but who was going to land me.

Wait a minute!!  I just had a horrible thought.  What if this jug headed Jindel proposal got some traction?  You could at some point find yourself stuck between two wide-load losers with no means of escape!  As the late author Jim Harrison once opined, "there is no nastier experience than being trapped between two bores with an empty glass." The man was pure genius.

Next stop, Dysfunction, Ohio

It's bad enough that political correctness--a commie invention all the way--has taken the scalp of humor and honesty.  We can NOT EVER let the fun police take away our right to fly the freak flag at thirty-thousand feet.  Bobby Jindel and his nitwit no booze on airplanes ideas must be fitted for cement shoes and drowned in a vat of Gentleman Jack and pronto.  Now, if you'll excuse me, the drink cart is coming and I'm prepared to take out the two fat guys between me an sweet airborne oblivion.  Make way for Maker's Mark!