Land of Plenty

Winners never quit,

quitters never win.

When the going gets tough,

I kick ass...

This is me!

This is my country!

These colours, my friend,

these colours don't run!

September twelve,

oh-eight hundred.

Paul Jeffries, USASF.

I am at position one,

south west corner of the street...

Situation here has become

increasingly difficult to monitor.

Pedestrian population up,

awareness level in retrograde.

Less than twenty four hours after

the second anniversary of the attacks,

and still on

a code yellow threat advisory.

These people might

as well be picking flowers...

Location secure.

If not out of respect

for the deceased,

then at least out of

respect for the families,

let's have the human decency

not to use the anniversary of 9/11

for liberal-political-manoeuvring...

Thank you, God.

Thank you for bringing me home!

To my own country.

It feels so remote.

Been away for so long.

Thank you!

Come on, people! Work with me!

Go for Harris!

LA International Airport,

position four-nine...

- Copy.

- LAX!

Immediate dispatch.

Confirm twenty upon arrival...

Does that sound like

a "soft target" to you?

...Nobody's going after LAX!

- Moving to position four-nine.

- Will copy twenty. Harris out.

- Copy that...

We're now beginning our

final descent into

Los Angeles International Airport.

The Captain has asked that you

please fasten your seatbelts

and return your tray tables to

an upright and locked position.

Ten-twenty.

North side of Palmetto.

I see an Arab.

Two very shady personage,

having a conversation where they

know they can't be recorded.

Two boxes are being held.

And the label reads ah...

Borax?

Two boxes of Borax.

In pursuit!

Come on, baby! Come on!

Come on, you crap! Come on!

Come on! Come on! Come on!

Please! Damn it! Sh*t!!

Where'd he go?

What is he,

a magician or something?

Some kind of an invisible man?

Suspect fled on foot,

advanced into the

maze of inner city structures

underneath the Fourth Street Bridge.

Vanished temporarily.

Pursuing on foot.

Talk about bad luck!

You think you slipped away?

Maybe for now,

but not for long.

You just ran into a

truck-load of the worst luck

you've ever had in your life,

turban boy!

Attention, travellers!

You are not required to

give money to solicitors!

Ladies and gentleman,

your attention, please!

Swiss Line 41 is paging

departing passenger Mr. Paul Hingmus.

Lana?

Hi!

I guess you remember me,

then, huh?

No, not really.

No? Good!

Because I was a nerd back then

and now I'm kinda cool.

You checked luggage, right?

Uh, no! No, this is it.

That's it?

All the way from Tel Aviv and

that's all you brought?

All my earthly possessions.

Is that true? Shall we?

While I flip through the pages

of our wonderful "mainstream press",

as I'm doing right now,

the most difficult thing for me

personally to decide each morning

is which lie to address first.

Because they're all

so enticing, quite frankly.

But, let's see

what we have here...

All right:
Ralph Nader has called

for the impeachment of President Bush,

now Ralph has about as much Washington

credibility as Pee Wee Herman,

so I'm just gonna

leave this alone...

I really appreciate what

you're doing for me here.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean.

Well, hey, whose life is it,

yours or your father's?

It's mine...

Well, then, there you go!

You think he'll send me

some hate mail?

Well, he might.

But at least you don't

have to worry about e-mail.

Cause he always says

that the computer

is an invention that allows you to make

- more mistakes in a shorter

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