Thursday, March 20, 2003
Cry Havoc, and Let Slip the Dogs of War!
Since I'm from North Carolina, maybe that quote above should read "dawgs" of war. I get ragged enough about my accent from transplanted Yankees as it is, the Better Half included. Well, war is here. Saddam asked for it, and bubba, he got it. Hope he enjoys it for the little amount of time he has left.
Got to squeeze this in between assignments at work, so I don't think I'll be including links this time around. Forgive me, fellow bloggers, for I have sinned. I will let you (yeah, both of you, why not) decide my penance.
Latest reports indicate that Saddam survived the "target of opportunity" strike last night, but that his son Uday may have been the recipient of our little 2,000 pound love taps. Schweet. Either way, that's one down and two to go. Maybe now someone in a position of power in Iraqistan will see the light and take out Saddam for us. Hey, it could happen!
Just stepped into the kitchen for another cup of joe, and watched live shots from Baghdad, although for the life of me I couldn't see the SAMs streaking into the sky like Wolf Blitzer said he could. I know my eyes are bad, but sheesh! You'd think missle tracks against a cloudy sky would be fairly obvious to see.
Sometimes being a father sucks. I had to try to explain to my three younger sons (12, 11 and 5) that we are at war. Now J, the 12 year old, has the mental capacity of a 7 year old; P, the 11 year old, is emotionally behind; and M, the 5 year old, is a typical 5 year old with the attention span of a goldfish. I would rather take a beating than try to explain something like this to them. Oh, did I mention they are all ADHD? My brain hurt before I left the house for work today. Wish me luck, I'm going to try again tonight to make this make sense to them. I had to explain to them that their older brother, R (also known as Beelzebub), who is joining the Marines as soon as humanly possible, is in no danger at this time. I foresee a long night ahead of yours truly. Maybe I'll just go into caveman mode and try it ("Ugh! Saddam bad! U.S. good! U.S. pound Saddam with club!"). Makes as much sense as anything else at this time.
Sorry about that, my knuckles are sore from dragging the ground. I was accused of being a warmongering fascist a few minutes ago. Working in this bastion of liberalists does have it drawbacks at times.
ET: So how did you deal with it?
Me: Deal with what?
ET: Being accused of being a, how did you put it? A warmongering fascist?
Me: Oh, that. I merely refused to take part in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.
ET: Damn. That was . . . good.
¶ 3:13 PM
Since I'm from North Carolina, maybe that quote above should read "dawgs" of war. I get ragged enough about my accent from transplanted Yankees as it is, the Better Half included. Well, war is here. Saddam asked for it, and bubba, he got it. Hope he enjoys it for the little amount of time he has left.
Got to squeeze this in between assignments at work, so I don't think I'll be including links this time around. Forgive me, fellow bloggers, for I have sinned. I will let you (yeah, both of you, why not) decide my penance.
Latest reports indicate that Saddam survived the "target of opportunity" strike last night, but that his son Uday may have been the recipient of our little 2,000 pound love taps. Schweet. Either way, that's one down and two to go. Maybe now someone in a position of power in Iraqistan will see the light and take out Saddam for us. Hey, it could happen!
Just stepped into the kitchen for another cup of joe, and watched live shots from Baghdad, although for the life of me I couldn't see the SAMs streaking into the sky like Wolf Blitzer said he could. I know my eyes are bad, but sheesh! You'd think missle tracks against a cloudy sky would be fairly obvious to see.
Sometimes being a father sucks. I had to try to explain to my three younger sons (12, 11 and 5) that we are at war. Now J, the 12 year old, has the mental capacity of a 7 year old; P, the 11 year old, is emotionally behind; and M, the 5 year old, is a typical 5 year old with the attention span of a goldfish. I would rather take a beating than try to explain something like this to them. Oh, did I mention they are all ADHD? My brain hurt before I left the house for work today. Wish me luck, I'm going to try again tonight to make this make sense to them. I had to explain to them that their older brother, R (also known as Beelzebub), who is joining the Marines as soon as humanly possible, is in no danger at this time. I foresee a long night ahead of yours truly. Maybe I'll just go into caveman mode and try it ("Ugh! Saddam bad! U.S. good! U.S. pound Saddam with club!"). Makes as much sense as anything else at this time.
Sorry about that, my knuckles are sore from dragging the ground. I was accused of being a warmongering fascist a few minutes ago. Working in this bastion of liberalists does have it drawbacks at times.
ET: So how did you deal with it?
Me: Deal with what?
ET: Being accused of being a, how did you put it? A warmongering fascist?
Me: Oh, that. I merely refused to take part in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.
ET: Damn. That was . . . good.
¶ 3:13 PM
