Today terrorists are going to attack a plane (great work,
TSA) and, through the use of some sort of "eye poison," kill everyone
on board, including themselves. The only
survivors will be you, a blind man who plays piano and digitally stimulates
women for a living, and a four month old baby whose eyes won't have been
developed enough to receive the "vision toxin" that Al Qaeda released
on the plane. This will lead to a lot of
awkward feeling around after the initial chaos, followed by you sitting down in
the pilot's seat, putting on the pilot's headphones, and asking the control
tower:
"Uhh, Sky Boss, how do I land this plane?"
"What?" the control tower operator will ask.
You'll briefly explain to him what happened and he'll
listen, silently nodding, until you're done.
"Well, I could let you die," he'll say in an
announcerly voice, "but I'll be damned if I'm going to let Al Qaeda kill
another baby.
"AMERICA!" you'll shout in response.
When you quiet down he'll walk you through the various
switches on the console in front of you, directing you to, at the right moment,
flip off the autopilot switch and then, soon after, push the land button. You and the baby will land safely and your
regard for professional pilots will be forever shaken, colored by the knowledge
that their job could literally be done by a blind man being given directions by
a depressed alcoholic hundreds of miles away.
Congratulations Blind Pilot!
No comments:
Post a Comment