When I was a lot younger, flying C-130’s in West Texas we used to practice our tactical navigation by flying low-level routes around Abilene. There were about four routes, varying in length from 40 minutes to an hour and a half. Every day Monday to Friday anywhere from 4 to 16 aircraft would take off and fly the route, eventually ending up back at the base where we would drop our practice loads. We had morning, afternoon and, occasionally, evening flights.
Now lest you think we must have disturbed a lot of people, let me assure you these flights were over vast open rangeland. Our checkpoints were road intersections, bridges, or some such permanent landmark, and for the most part, the only things underneath us were oil wells and cows. My job was to guide the aircraft, to make sure we arrived at each checkpoint on time so that we would successfully reach the drop zone. Since all of West Texas looked pretty-much flat and brown, this could be a challenge if the winds were different then you expected or you missed a checkpoint. I learned early on the cows were my friends. If I was on-course the cattle were familiar with the noise of the aircraft passing over. They would continue to graze, eat, poop or do whatever else cattle do in West Texas. If we were not on course the cattle would be startled and start running in all directions. When that happened we knew we were off-course and needed to change direction. Those who figured this out were successful. The ones who didn’t would be asked to find a new line of work.
It has dawned on me this is really a metaphor of life and politics. I will be interested to see if those who survived reelection will have noticed the voters running around in all directions and realize they need to change course?
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