So, by a show of hands out there, how many think less of Michael Moore since his Oscar performance? For those who share a disdain of the rotund, unshaven, unkept, baseball hat toting film director from Flint, check out this website: www.moorewatch.com
Ignore the plea to send money. I did.
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Anne Goodwin, over Clarkston way, sent me the following e-mail:
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I’ve said that if I could, I’d enlist today and help my country track down those responsible for killing thousands of innocent people in New York City and Washington, D.C. But, I’m over 60 now and the Armed Forces say I’m too old to track down terrorists. You can’t be older than 35 to join the Army.
They’ve got the whole thing backwards. Instead of sending 18-year-olds off to fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn’t be able to join until you’re at least 35.
For starters: Researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every 10 seconds. Old guys only think about sex a couple of times a day, leaving us more that 28,000 additional seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy.
Young guys haven’t lived long enough to be cranky, and a cranky soldier is a dangerous soldier. If we can’t kill the enemy we’ll complain them into submission. “My back hurts!” “I’m hungry!” “Where’s the remote control?”
An 18-year-old doesn’t like to get up before 10 a.m. old guys get up early just to show we can (and to steal the neighbor’s newspaper and relieve ourselves).
If old guys are captured we couldn’t spill the beans because we’d probably forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank, and serial number would be a real brainteaser.
Boot camp would actually be easier for old guys. We’re used to getting screamed and yelled at and we actually like soft food. We’ve also developed a deep appreciation for guns and rifles. We like them almost better than naps.
The army could lighten up on the obstacle course, however. I’ve been to the desert and didn’t see a single 20-foot wall with rope hanging over the side. I can hear the Drill Sergeant now, “Get down and give me . . . er . . . one.” And the running part is kind of a waste of energy. I’ve never seen anyone outrun a bullet.
An 18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He’s still learning to shave; to actually carry on a conversation; to wear pants without the top of the butt crack showing and the boxer shorts sticking out; to learn that a pierced tongue catches food particles — and that a 200-watt speaker in the back seat of a Honda Accord can rupture an eardrum.
All great reasons to keep our sons at home to learn a little more about life before sending them off to a possible death. Let us old guys track down those dirty, rotten cowards who attacked our hearts on September 11. The last things they’d want to see right now is a couple of million old farts with attitudes.
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Thanks, Anne.
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And, while I’m breaking my own new code of “Less of Moore is More . . .”
Mike needs to:
A) Publicly thank his lucky stars he lives in America where he has the right to preach his mean-spiritedness versus, Iraq where he’d be roasted alive.
B) Publicly thank his lucky stars that there are brave men and women from this country willing to lay their lives on the line for his.
C) Get off the “fictitious” election results. If Al Gore would have won the presidential election in 2000, it would have been by the same means that George W. Bush won.
D) Apologize to the President, our Armed Forces, the American public that has made him rich and to his Hollywood comrades — who, for the most part lean left in the politics, but had the decency to tone down the rhetoric during an internationally broadcasted Oscar awards ceremony.
Mike can rest well, knowing that at least Saddam and his minions agree with him, and will use those statements to their own means.
Way to go, Mikey!
Comments for Don can be e-mailed to: dontrushmedon@aol.com