letter artEditor:

Once again the helicopter is back terrorizing us with their rotor thumps, shocking us from a fitful sleep, forcing a Monday morning wake up with a military-like garbage can clanging. A 13 minute alarm clock, fueled by rotors, hovering in the sky, blasting us all with sound waves only a Jedi could create.

A small gathering of us stood outside in this overcast morning, shaking our heads, still in shock from the thundering noise. We had to shout at each other to communicate. Our individual thoughts were consumed by the helicopter’s sheer loud presence. Could there be anything more vulgar at 6:30 a.m.? And for 13 minutes? Maybe a car alarm parked next to your ear.

We looked straight up at the underbelly of the craft with its massive high-powered optics, its bulbous sphere searching for a glimpse of whomever may be newsworthy. Submit to us or find no peace. This feels like their message.

Must all residents suffer the deafening noise from the eye in the sky? Is this our Orwellian legacy delivered to us in decibels?

Until we, the citizens, have had enough, these hovering helicopters will continue to thump our heads into submission. They will continue to bring any quality of life down to the military state existence. Yes, our alarm clocks do this as well. But we employ the alarm clock. And with a sleepy arm, we can stop the alarm noise. The helicopter refuses to turn off.

We all shook our heads as it finally flew away. The helicopter wore a smug smile of success. It had rounded up at least a dozen of us on the street. It tore into our dreams and pulled us from our wombs. It placed us firmly in the grip of Monday morning. We started the day with a deep dose of despair.

 

John R. Petros

Santa Monica

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