Tuesday, November 11, 2008


“Hey ladies—like that war? Totally me. Created the whole thing from scratch.”

“What?! The Iraqi kids didn’t great you as liberators and give you the candy and flowers? Well, we’ll get right on organizing a parade for you here. Right after that one all the ‘Nam vets keep asking about.”

Waving to vets on an aircraft carrier from a Swiss built ramp is a far cry from landing in a fighter jet in a jump suit and codpiece, but don’t worry, the same leadership principles are still there.

“Oh shit, is that all that’s left?!” 

“No George, these are the only Iraq war vets we could find that don’t want to kill you. Try not to make eye contact. They're heavily sedated.

“I’d like to thank our vets for their courage, valor, and service, and I’d especially like to thank my staff for making this a quick, painless, and guilt free in-and-out experience. Later, dudes.”

“Thank you so much for your service to our country. Now let me help you get home...”

“… and here we are!”

“I’m just glad I got the day off. Fuck you, that kills at the shelter.”

For a lot of vets, when they get home, if they don’t get the proper psychiatric treatment, it’s either hit the streets or join the A-Team, and if memory serves me, that van didn’t have a wheelchair lift.

“It wasn’t fair, they offered me healthcare or a fur coat, and I was already crazy at the time.”

Ironically, it was a similar strategy that got us into the war in the first place. 

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