Posted on 2011/09/25 by Aoife McDermot DeClare| Leave a comment
Now I try not to be indelicate when putting anything into the public arena, which is already plenty revolting without my crass contributions. But something’s come up that forces me to abrogate that stricture. Perhaps you saw the GOP debate the other night. Aside from a deployed soldier in Iraq being booed by the über patriots at the Tea Party event, intellectual heavyweight Rick Santorum weighed in with the news that sex–heterosexual or homosexual–has no place in the military. Hard to beat that for irony since Santorum, who never served a minute in the military, feels no need to restrain his own sexuality–he has a whole litter of kids–and there’s apparently also some kinky sexual practice actually named after him. Not sure what it is but TV comics have often mentioned that one should simply punch his name into the web browser to find out what it is. (Thanks all the same but I’ll leave that to the readers. I’m already preoccupied trying to pry the revolting mental images from TV commercials out of my head.)
Sooo, let me get this straight. Our troops are supposed to give up sex? That seemed pretty harsh but then a couple of days later the straw that broke this camel’s back was laid out for an astonished public. Since I get my news, as mentioned in an earlier post, from “The Daily Show” and the “Colbert Report” I believe the following tidbit must have come from one of them. I can’t be certain because it was so shocking that everything went black and what I assumed would be my last thought was, “Knew it! Aggravated to death by some idiot bureaucrat! The last thing I will ever hear is that some nitwit has issued an order that U.S. Marines in Afghanistan are to cease and desist farting audibly.” Possibly it was Iraq not Afghanistan. Obviously, eventually I revived but, just as with many traumatic events, my brain couldn’t remember the gruesome details, including which show I heard that on or the exact country referenced.
Who issued such an order? You can’t tell grown men, let alone United States Marines, that they can’t fart. Doesn’t that abridge their constitutional guarantee of freedom of expression? C’mon, how many of you red-blooded males out there have used your butt to weigh in on some person or issue that has annoyed you? That’s what I thought. There are just some things that only methane can say.
Even more infuriating than the pure asininity of this order was the reason for it The Afghani (or Iraqi) males–who cares what the women think?–find it offensive. Offensive? So public floggings, institutionalized rape and murders of women as a sport in an arena funded by the U.S. (if memory serves correctly) are okay by them but Marines’ farting offends their delicate cultural sensibilities? And we care, uhhh, why?
If it’s not that, it’d be something, like maybe the fact that their country is occupied by foreign armed forces, that offends them. Whatever, those Afghanis (and Iraqis) seem to be people who are just chronically pissed off. Not too long ago I sent a couple of my young male relatives a book, published in the 1860’s, that was a kid’s adventure story set in Afghanistan. The Afghanis were fighting the British and they were all upset about this, that and the other back then too. That’s more than 140 years of being ticked off. Maybe it’s not the farts that annoy them. Maybe they’re just chronically grumpy. Which I could easily believe given what the parts of their country I’ve seen on TV look like–a grim, unrelieved hellscape of colorless forbidding mountains and arid deserts. No wonder they’re such sourpusses.
Here’s my advice. Put in some landscaping, plant some flowers, maybe paint a few of those gray-brown hovels. It might cheer things up a bit. But don’t expect our guys to stop farting. And whoever at the Pentagon supervises the idiot who actually put that order in writing, start checking your boy’s work before he releases it would ya? Because to a war-weary public, something such as that order is like a red flag to a crazed bull. Just one more infuriating example of clueless people being given leadership roles without possessing a grain of common sense or the necessary psychological readiness to carry out their mission. Assuming anyone in Afghanistan even knows what the mission is. Assuming that there even is such a thing as a formally designated mission.
Now I suppose it could be argued that if DOD instituted both Santorum’s no sex dictum and the USMC rule against farting audibly, our already fantastically aggressive troops would be even more so. But don’t forget the “South Park” episode wherein people suddenly began holding in their farts with disastrous consequences. (South Park’s another font of wisdom from which I fill my cup of fact based information.) People began spontaneously combusting. Ya don’t want that for our troops, do ya? Well?
But I think whomever at DOD supervises that clown who gave the no farts order should either go the full Monty and get him/her a couple of acrobats, a ring and ringmaster and some trained ponies so he/she will have a real circus to operate in, or, better yet, give them a career change so they can go into the comedy world where, I predict, they’ll be far more at home.
And, as a practical matter, if the success of the mission–which has never been defined to “we the rabble” who are paying for it–in Afghanistan (or Iraq) is so tenuous that success depends upon Marines not farting, then maybe it’s time to just pack it in and go home. Or at least reassess. Because everybody I know would much rather have all those well trained troops back here instead of getting blown up in some godforsaken wasteland where people hate them just for being there, farts or no farts.
This may be our Dunkirk. Remember when England’s troops were trapped and the people of the British Isles responded by doing for them what they couldn’t do for themselves? Now is the time, people. This is our moment. Speak for those who are being silenced. Y’know how all those sound-bite political commercials say “Call your Congressman”? Well I say, first fix yourself up a big plate of baked beans and broccoli, top it with humus (as a nod to the Afghani/Iraqi sensibilities) wait an hour or two and then call your Congressman. Then just put your phone next to your butt and let your methane do the talking. Heck, call the Pentagon too. I’m sure Admiral Mullen would love to hear from you.
And don’t forget to have a lot of sex as well. Do it–literally–for the troops who supposedly shouldn’t. And if you have an understanding partner, do both. Have sex and fart. For the troops. For the slighted honor of our United States Marines. Semper Fi!