The Top 40

I picked this up a day or so ago in an article by Ann Barnhardt. It reflects the average IQs of various nations and indicates that Libera's average is 67. Kenya's, the birthplace of our POSOTUS, is a whopping 80. No wonder we have so many problems.

http://www.photius.com/rankings/national_iq_scores_country_ranks.html

They fooled me again. Up until I read Breitbart.com today I didn't realize that the Dallas Ebola patient wasn't an American but a Liberian.
The Media has picked a side in this fight, and it is not our side. But why?

@north: Why? follow the money is one reason. Control is another. Watch for Katrina- or Boston- style lockdowns. "Your papers, please" is just the beginning.
Perhaps the rulers in DC and some rich folks that can afford bunkers want to lock all us peasants out and wait until we die. They will have less opposition when they declare all clear.

Why don't we hear of any Muslims faced with this threat of plague? I'll tell ya. Because they do what I suggested they do, which is, the strategy for handling Ebola can be very simple.
I propose draconian and insensitive remedies: identify, isolate, kill, burn. Simplistic but imminently feasible. Napalm or flamethrowers and D8 Cats to push 'em under.

The logistics support this strategy. Isolated and easily cordoned off, far enough from civilization that travel can be monitored and interrupted.
I bet there are some killings, out in the boonies where the sun don't shine, but not enough.
The rationale is, collateral damage minimal and benefits for the greater good. I guess my Kraut mindset shows, uh? Highly unlikely this will happen — no press and no money changing hands, greasing wheels and whatnot.
This plays better: Uncle Sam the Samaritan Man. We have landed a couple thousand troops and wheelbarrows full of equipment and bales of money in, where, Liberia?
Just think, donuts and coffee from the Red Cross and ten percent error rate. Photo ops abound: a suited up doctor (or maintenance man, who knows?) patting a victim on the back there, there. A pristine treatment room, all shiny glass and steel, for looks, not for blood and mucus and excrement all over the place, with a smell that would knock a buzzard off a gut wagon.
We're doomed, doomed I tell ya.