I think we should just get in there to Swaziland as quick as possible before the UN can say diddle squat to tell Adam, or Sadam, or Asad, or Borat, or what’shisface to stop raising our gas prices and murdering his own people with postulations. We have lock-sure evidence he was the one who released sarin on all those folks who all look the same.
This is nothing like Iraq. This is nothing like Afghanistan. This is nothing like Viet Nam or New Jersey, for that matter. There will never be boots on the ground. We can no longer afford boots. There will either be sandals or bare feet. There will only be sandals if you cough up some dough, so there will be a sandal fund. We do have enough money for Cruise mistletoes, however. I know, I know, it’s not X-mas yet, but we might as well celebrate before we destroy Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, food stamps, Obamacare.
We can’t afford to take care of a bunch of smelly old people anymore, not when we are paying for all those sandals and those mistletoes on the ground. We are not invading that place over there yonder. We are not going to get caught up in some tar-baby military action.
Some people say that we should not repeat the mistakes of the past, that we should make up entirely new mistakes, mistakes that are more entertaining and smart, but I say that is just illusion and the usual Progressive foolishness.
Familiar stuff makes us feel good. Who cares if the one sure sign of insanity and dense headedness is doing the same thing over and over expecting new results. That’s what the enemy says. That’s what Ivy League Professors with their tweed smoking pipes are saying. What the hell are they smoking, anyway, those nattering nabobs?
Remember, America is exceptional, not like those other places such as New Jersey or Thailand that are super-bland ordinary, not like places such as Canada where nothing ever happens. Maybe we should bomb those suckers back to the Stone Age when things were simple. But no, we are special. We are chosen by God to get ‘er done. Let’s not shirk. Let’s puff out those chests of the male persuasion and go straight ahead to fulfill our strategic whatever.
Responses to “Cereal, or Syria, or Whatever”