I'm not fond of this new war, especially given the one who's leading it from the safety of the Oval Office while others put their lives in dread peril.....for a Bozo who doesn't even respect them.
I wouldn’t want to die for someone who thought contemptuously of me.
So anyway, last night I went to bed and had a dream.
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I was standing in the center of a village in rural Syria, near the railway station, when a train showed up; this being a dream, visual phenomenons were sort of mixed up. The train was pulled by a World War I-era 0-4-0 steam locomotive, and the passenger cars looked like either the standard third-class passenger conveyances of a hundred years ago, or like a bunch of modern short buses hitched together.
It was as if something out of
Lawrence of Arabia, other than the times the cars looked like short buses.
It was bringing volunteers, primitives from Skins’s island, to fight 0bama’s new war.
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Now, this is where it is most helpful to know what certain primitives look like in real life, so as to aid the imagination:
The first one descending was the big guy from Bellevue, Omaha Steve, dressed in a plaid kilt and towering black furry hat, playing a bagpipe, “Onward, Christian Soldiers,†as the others disembarked to the tune.
The second to get down was Lamond, MrsCorpio, in
lederhosen and a soft hat with a feather, apparently the commander of the primitive army, because he stood by the bagpiping big guy, taking salutes and returning salutes as the rest of the primitives unboarded and lined up on the platform.
There was Little Lord Fauntleroy Wills, the William769 primitive, all attired in lace and frilly swashbucklery, and fairyboy Justin, the HRMjustin primitive, in some sort of Spandex Peter Pan outfit. And stinky nadin, in her mountain-climbing and thug-knifing gear, along with Bob, the MastersNemesis primitive, dressed as if an eye-patched pirate and hopping on one leg. And the Bostonian Drunkard, William Pitt, all decked out in his Midnight Cowboy suite….
…..and the sparkling old dude, the Stinky the Clown primitive, in a tu-tu and waving a wand, Big Mo the mopinko primitive with guitar, strumming “Oh du lieber Augustin, Augustin…..†to the accompaniment of the lower-jaw-flapping California Peggy, the fizgig primitive in a threatening manner slapping her thunderthighs together…..
…..perhaps the most ludicrous sight was Jugs, whose breast-plate, given all the acreage it had to cover, weighed more than she did, disabling her from standing upright. Someone finally pounded two “Yâ€-shaped posts into the ground in front of her so she could rest the pointers on those, stand upright, and salute Alpine-looking Lamond.
There were a lot of primitives, coming to fight 0bama’s latest war.
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As they crowded the platform, I noticed something everybody else seemed to be ignoring—hardly an unusual situation--a wire connected to something hidden under a rock. My eyes followed the wire until they could see no more, after which I took out a pair of binoculars and looked, over in the faraway hills.
Over there in the distance was the crouching figure of Skippy, the NYC_SKP primitive, dressed like his terrorist pals so as to blend in, watching the crowd assemble on the platform, his hand on a plunger. Then suddenly he pushed the detonator, and the dream blew up.
