CREATING TERRORISTS RIGHT IN AMERICAN WAITING ROOMS

We're told jihadist terrorists are bred in Middle Eastern slums and mosques. But I'll bet you never suspected how this same terrible rage against America can also be bred right here in America. Where...? Every day right inside every innocent-looking, coffee-brewing waiting room in the country...!

I just spent four enraging hours trapped inside one of them, waiting for my car to be repaired in a local dealership. Just like thousands of other waiting rooms -- in doctor's offices, clinics, ER's -- you're literally compelled to sit there sipping their cold coffee and staring at their hot television. Physically unable to escape its insane and inane babbling, you sit transfixed by a cacophony of scenes that could make anyone hate America

First, those never-take-a-breath newscasters glutting the airwaves with frenzied reports from campus killers to gang attacks to the latest smarmy sex trysts. All cutesy tagged at the end with one of those darling human-interest stories that are somehow supposed to leave you with a smile after the last 29 minutes of teeth-grinding crisis...!

Next, one of those soaps oozing its sugary plot line into every trapped pore of you body. You know, those heart-rending traumas with the bosomy, big-haired ingenues and bulky, bare-chested hunks. Somehow these insipid sagas are supposed to be projecting young America at its best...!

You're also likely to get stuck with one of those yelping game shows where otherwise grown adults break into baboonish rituals as they act out their lust for money. Somehow these greedy oafs are supposed to reflect well on the American character of success....!

And while you sink deeper into your seat-of-no-escape, you're bombarded with the inevitable barrage of TV commercials in which -- whether they're pitching toothpaste or tuck-pointing -- everyone is constantly and relentlessly smiling at you. Somehow their grinning, instant-solution assurances are supposed to speak to the American spirit of optimism...!

I don't know about you, but at the end of my hours of imprisonment, I gotta admit -- this version of America could drive me to violence too. Not angry bombs, but angry letters like this one. Better this than smashing all those television sets. Then again, smashing sounds good...