Muscle-flexing Muslim style

In case you hadn’t noticed, things are a bit tense in the Middle East. Have been for a while. Close to 1,000 years, actually. You know, what with the Sunni – Shia schism within Islam; a little hoop-de-doo regarding the Crusades; the flood of Mongols; the rise and fall of the Ottomans; little skirmishes involving Hindus; the Russians coming, the Russians coming (Whittaker Walt or no); some fey Englishman leading an Arab revolt; the repatriating of Hebrews; Ayatollahs and Mullahs; Mujahedin and Al Aqsa; more than a little Texas Tea; and so on.

The latest hulaballoo surrounding the 15 British soldiers captured by the Iranians seems to be par for the course. Personally, I blame the movie 300. I mean, it can’t be coincidental that it gets released right when tempers are flaring and emotions are running very tightly wound.

Think about it. This is a movie openly celebrating how a pack of semi-literate, half-naked Greek thugs held the effete, brutal, barbaric Persian hoards at bay for three days, while Jesus rose from the dead to get revenge on all those who use his name in vain and lay with other men.

Wait, sorry, I got my stories mixed up there at the end. But it does beg the question of why the number 3 is held as being so mystical. The Masons consider it the foundation of their damned secret society, and it forms the very core of the religion of baseball (three strikes, three outs, nine players, nine innings, three bases – coincidence?).

What the hell? Baseball? Okay, here’s an important safety tip for you kids: never try to write on three hours sleep and five cups of coffee. It jangles your brains and makes you mutter odd incantations.

So, where was I? Oh yes, Iranians and British. See, I blame Bush for this. Well, he and Rummy. And Cheney. Evil Dick doesn’t get a pass. I’d like to toss Reagan into this mix too, but try as I might I can’t. And Nixon, as evil and scaly as he was, had more than enough sense to not get involved in this sort of idiocy. Yeah, Bushco might be a syndicate with more firepower than the Cosa Nostra and the Russian Mafia combined, but they got less brains than a 1^st grade special ed class. See, this whole “let’s invade Iraq” thing really screwed the pooch for us. At least when Reagan embarked on his ME adventures he had the sense to send a few F-14’s to the coast of Libya and launch some missiles into Tripoli. And even George I knew when to pull up the tent-posts and run. But George II is the idiot-child. Poor thing, he'd be overmatched in a game of Jenga with a spasmodic, and here he is trying to lead a nation.

Anyway, my point is, because of this quixotic endeavor (and yes, I use that term as a perjorative), our military is now basically helpless. If a skirmish suddenly flared up where a pack of drugged up, badge-less Mexican banditos decided to raid a small, dusty Texas town, we’d need to call in the Canadians to help. How sick is that? Relying on Canadians? It’s enough to make you want to shut the lights, lock the door, and crawl into a corner to rock while gently weeping.

And everyone in the world knows it. The North Koreans were jacking our jimmies for a year, playing with their pop-guns and bottle rockets, knowing full well we couldn’t do squat. All they wanted was some cash so their freakshow leader could buy more liquour and whores. And it worked. The bitches are on their way. The Iranians saw this and got pissed they didn’t think of it first. So, they’re upping the ante by not only chasing the atomic wedgie, but also now making like a dime-store gangsta trying to carve out some territory.

Guess what? It’s working. They’re sweating down 15 boys from Manchester, Bristol, Leeds, and Yorkshire, looking to see how far they can go before they get their hands slapped. And like an impotent old fart who promises seven orgasms and three hours of roaring sex to the young hottie with the tramp-stamp, all the US can do is talk a great fuck. We’ve used all our little blue pills trying to impress Miss Baghdad, and now can only make hollow promises to that Tehrani cutie with the big brown eyes, because we can't get our pecker up. Hell, we can't even control our pee on account of our prostate problems, and I think we now have irritable bowel syndrome, too.

It’s just sad. The worst part is those poor little Brit kids. Sure, they’ll be released and get some sort or hero’s welcome. But they’ll never be the same. How can they be? After eating kabobs and loubia and spiced rice and pomegranate infused dishes how will they ever be able to be happy with bangers, mash, and kidney pie?

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