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So, this duck walks into a bar....

2007-02-09

Good morning Boys and Girls,

It's 3:29 a.m. Friday morning. Just woke up after falling asleep earrrrrly.

Went to sleep thinking about John Kerry...

Huh? -I hear you cry.

God bless the guy, he's dry as toast, as is Al Gore, Hillary, John Edwards... God, can you imagine listening at a sales meeting run by Dennis Kucinich? Barack Obama, at least, has some personality... He'd be fun to listen to anyway....

Heck, I even like Joe Biden! God knows he likes to talk, (if he'd just stop putting his foot in his mouth for two seconds...)

Not the point...

Not the point. Not the point.

I was thinking about John Kerry. Yes. John - I married a Ketchup Heiress - Kerry.

I was thinking about the way his campaign this time around was derailed early on by that stupid joke he botched a couple of months ago where he implied, (he says accidentally and I take him at his word - though it's not relevant to my point,) that our soldiers are, in fact, NOT the best and brightest, but instead are largely recruited (read, "scraped,") from the bottom of the nation's economic and intellectual reservoir (read, "barrel.")

I personally don't think he meant it that way, but, either way, he was roundly lambasted by lots of folks who indignantly spoke out, implying unequivocally that OUR men and women in uniform could probably all be attending Harvard if the courage of their convictions hadn't induced them to volunteer for military service, and that if John Kerry didn't realize that, it was further proof of his own inherent leftist intellectual elitism.

Okay. Whatever.

So how is it that most of these same people are now so convinced that a non-binding resolution of opposition to President Bush's troop increase and this proposed new door-to-door sweep will be so completely and irreversibly demoralizing to our troops, sending them a message that we don't support them as a military entity or, I assume, even as individual people who've made the choice to serve their country in the most direct and fundamental manner imaginable?

Does Mitch McConnell, for example, think our men and women in uniform are so stupid that they can't understand that millions upon millions of Americans can stridently oppose this war AND this "new" strategy, while still being extremely proud of and thankful for the service of these fine people; that it is BECAUSE we support them that we don't want more of them put in harm's way to satisfy the flawed agenda of a group of men and women who themselves did all they could to avoid being part of our nation's military forces - which now, by virtue of circumstances too bizarre to fathom, they command; that we don't think OUR men and women should be part of a "last-ditch" effort, the last white chip a compulsive gambler has left after betting poorly and wildly for years, praying for that one big hit to get him even, and plopping down it (them) down on zero?

In fact, plopping it down even though even a "win" wouldn't mean anything close to getting even or ahead, but only prolonging the overall loss.

 

In fact, let's take the anaogy one step farther. The administration is the haggard gambler, okay? WE are the house. We're the guys in the credit department who listened to the sob story and extended further credit, allowing the mope (gambler slang for "a hopeless player") to dig himself into such a large hole that he finally had to sign over his house to keep playing. Now, He's lost the house, We're in trouble with our own bosses cuz we didn't have the damn thing valued properly, and we know he owes more than he'll ever be able to repay, and here he is AGAIN with another story while we sit there behind the desk, looking at our watch cuz we've heard the same story so many times we're bored and irritated, knowing damn well it's time to freeze his accounts, sic Big Vito on the jerk, and cut our losses.

Finally, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, palms upward and deadly seriously we say, "Look, I don't trust you, okay? Your word is not good with me. I'm turing you over directly to God - I mean Mr. Wynn."

And we pick up the phone and dial the three digits, 4-6-3... "Hey, Boss, GW wants another twenty-one five... No, I'm serious. I know, I know... That's what I told him. Hell no, sir. I can't be responsible for this one... I'd appriciate it if you'd make this call sir. Okay... hang on."

And we hand over the phone. "He wants to talk to you." Now we lean back in our chair skeptically, listening, fingers inerlaced behind our head, knowing exactly what's being said, and staring at the little hidden button that, if pushed, would summon Big Vito in about two seconds, and sickened by the prospect of making either choice.

 

Poor old John Kerry... The guy simply has a lousy sense of humor and absolutely no sense of...

.....


.....


Timing.


Be good to everyone.

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