Many moons ago, during a visit to a group of Indians on the Chambira River in Peru, I was amazed at how sharp their machetes were, even though no grinders, files or commercial sharpening stones were anywhere in the village.
Back in the early 1980s, a buddy of mine who was “connected” started telling stories out of school. Stories about nukes being hijacked by terrorists, tales of bombs already sighted in American cities, hints about the existence of a “fifth column” of terrorists who infiltrated through our porous Southern border. I did what checking I could and began to become nervous—very nervous.