Porkers in DC Really Have No Shame: Murtha's Ozymandias Airport

I drove by a freeway exit on I-77 today in West Virignia called "Robert Byrd Drive" near the town of Beckley. Jeez, I know the Senator and ex-Klansman is taking forever to kick the bucket, but aren't you supposed to wait until the obituary has been written before you name high schools, roads, and monuments after a person? It reminded of the opulent Norm Dicks Government Center (a congressman from WA) located in the working class city of Bremerton that I shuddered everytime I drove past on my way to the ferry. It also reminded me of Saddam commemorating himself with all sorts of crazy shit in Baghdad, but it's the weekend so I'll be polite and not compare DC politicians to the Ba'ath party in this post.

But, CDR Salamander draws our attention to an ABC report on an airport named after King of the BBQs, John Murtha. Of course the airport is federally subsidized and only has 20 passengers a day.

It's just like a modern version of the definitive poem on mankind's hubris: Ozymandias.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.