The Politics of War

The Politics of War

 

I don't know if I've got the title o' this blog right or not. Perhaps it oughta be the War of Politics. Maybe it should be both. Don't matter much one way or the other anyways. I was listenin' to that eminent and enlightened leader o' the opposition, Rona Ambrose the other day talkin' about the war on Isis. Of course there was an exchange back an' forth about the whole business an' it got me to thinkin' about what in the H E double hockey sticks are these civilians doin' makin' decisions about a war anyways?

 Ambrose was "talkin'" about us takin' the fighter jets out of the Isis conflict, calling the new plan naïve. "But we're not fighting" she whined, completely ignorin' the new strategy presented by the government. The fact that the minister of defense is a Lt. Colonel with more service than you can shake a stick at an' more badges than an Eagle scout troop put together is totally lost on her. An' the rhetoric spewed out by a number of retired generals obviously don't mean a thing to her.

Well I got some startlin' news for Ms. Ambrose. She ain't the expert here. Well I'm no expert neither but that don't make me stupid. Even as far back as Alexander the Great they had state o' the art equipment to mow down the majority o' the enemy with them chariots with knives on the wheels to butcher opposin' soldiers an' their horses as they rode into the fray. But that never won the war. What won the war was the foot soldiers, the infantry goin' door to door an' rootin' out the rabble. An you only have to talk to WWII veterans to see the value o' the Princess Pats an' the Winnipeg Rifles in takin' out the enemy garbage. Some o' them folks are still around an' can attest to the Minister's plan.

Minister Saijan understands this. Well he ought to. He's seen a lot o' service in his day an' knows what needs to be done. In fact his plan strikes exactly the right balance. Trainin' local troops to take the fight to the enemy an bein' there with 'em while they're doin' it is not only a stroke of military genius, but is likely also a political maneuver to elevate our standin' in that part o' the world over an' above all them flashy bombers an' drones that get all the news. At least, that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.

 

Confirmation of Ignorance

Confirmation of Ignorance 

I know I said I wasn't goin' to write negative things nomore, but REALLY, some things gotta be challenged, or if not challenged, at least noted. I'm talkin' about that Jian Ghomeshi thing that's just been through the courts. And no, I got no opinion of who's right or wrong neither. Well I got an opinion, but it's not about that. It's about the most colossal bit of ignorance mankind has put together since that gawl danged snake whispered in Eve's ear.

 "Hey Eve," says the snake, " I can show you how to make people just like God does."

"No kiddin'," says Eve. "Sounds cool." So the snake explains everythin' to Eve an' she hightails it right over to Adam an' talks him into tryin' it out. "This is fun," he says, an' they carry on - but no humans get created. That snake musta lied about makin' humans. But it's so much fun, they don't much care about makin' humans anyways.

One day God is wandering around in the Garden of Eden lookin' for them two, but they're hidin' in the bushes "havin' fun" when he comes upon them. "HEY!" says God. "WHATDYA THINK YER DOIN'?"

"Oh, we was just tryin' out our carnal knowledge that the snake told us about. It's a lot o' fun but it sure don't make no humans. Why didn't ya tell us about this?"

"I'LL SHOW YA CARNAL KNOWLEDGE ALRIGHT!" says God in a great thunderin' voice. "Now get yer sorry arses outa my garden an' go to work for a livin!"

Well first thing ya know Eve gets knocked up an' sure enough she pops out a couple o' boys. Well, they ARE humans, but they're just little buggers so now she's gotta teach 'em the facts o' life an' raise 'em up, which she's just learnin' about herself.

It seems women have a very short memory about the pain o' givin' birth though 'cause somehow Eve went an' populated the whole dang world. It's just like them Ghomeshi women who was yelpin' an' commiseratin' about mistreatment an' then lookin' for more o' the same after the fact. This was pointed out by Ghomeshi's lawyer who is apparently an advocate of the abuse of women.

I pity the poor judge what's gotta rule on this whole stupid fiasco. It's a good job I ain't rulin' on it or I'd end up in the slammer for sure. It appears that we started out ignorant in the very beginnin' an' we ain't learnt nothin' since. At least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.

About Goin' to Mars

About Goin' to Mars

At first this was goin' to be a frivolous piece about goin' to Mars cause there ain't no intelligent life left on this earth. Not a bad idea. But then I got to thinkin', what's all that about? I mean, there is still intelligent life on this earth. It's just very hard to find in our leadership. Well the scientists and space engineers come up with a new idea. Let's all go to Mars, they said. We can do it. It's possible. But there's only one little hitch: It's a one-way trip. There ain't no space ship comin' back to earth any time soon. So basically, it's a little bit like dyin' except that ya won't be dead (presumably) when ya get there. In other words, yer draggin' all yer worldly baggage to another planet to continue with the same old bunkum we been goin' through down here on earth.

That certainly don't make a whole lot o' sense. Might as well call on the Grim Reaper. He don't charge ya nothin' to take you to one of two places other than Mars. An' with this new assisted dyin' legislation bein' considered (or not), you can go on a one way trip for a fraction o' the cost (paid for by Medicare), an' in the comfort o' yer own bed. Chances are fifty-fifty that you'll end up in heaven instead o' the other place (or Mars). An' ya don't even need to take a suitcase or carry on luggage. He just drops you off at whatever gate yer assigned to an' you go on yer merry way. For me, I got friends in both places so it don't make no difference either way.

This is a lot of information to take in an' consider if yer tryin' to decide what to do. But suddenly another element came into focus when the Missus was tryin' to tell me somethin'. I noticed I can't hear as good as I used to. What she was yammerin' about was that if I was to go out somewheres with her, I'd better go shave my ugly face. Holy Crackers! I'd completely forgot for the last I don't know how many days. Well I been doin' that a lot too lately - forgettin' that is. I don't know if it's forgettin' as much as it is becomin' disengaged. That's probably it: bein' disengaged. An' there's the answer right there. Ya don't have to pay a gazillion bucks to go on a one way trip to Mars, or go live on the other side o' the sod to get away from ignorant humanity. Ya become disengaged!

I think the Missus got it right when she said, "I care - but not THAT much." Words to live by. At least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.

 

 

Dating in the (our) Eighties

Dating in the (our) Eighties

 

This ain't what you think. What it really is, is a TERRIFYIN' tale! Me an' the Missus was havin' a conversation the other day an' I'm yammerin' about how she don't wanna go nowheres nomore if it's snowy or windy, an' I'm sayin' we gotta stop bein' such old fuddy-duddies when it comes to drivin' someplace. I got some sixty-five years o' drivin' experience an' I ain't killed us (or anybody else) yet. Well she considers that an' so we go shoppin' in a snow storm, gettin' home comfortable an' safe. But I shoulda known there was gonna be repercussions one way or another later.

That's when she throws this little hand grenade on my desk. "You know", she says reflectively, "we should get out more." Well of course. That's what I been sayin' all along.

"You know what we'll do?" she says in the same vane, "We'll have two dates every month. You take me to one place an' I'll take you to another. No matter what, we gotta go where the other one picks."

Well all right then! I was just in the middle of thinkin' about takin' her to Princess Auto for a joke when the rest of the penny dropped. The Missus likes the opera an' ballet an plays an' the symphony an' such things. An THAT'S when the terror set in. Oh my, me an' my big mouth! I can just imagine bein' jammed into a seat listenin' to a bunch o' yodelin' opera singers. I don't know if it's too late or not, but I'd like to make a New Years resolution to keep my big mouth shut from now on. As it is, I gotta go cap in hand to see if I can negotiate some o' the things the Missus likes to do. I may even have to abandon the trip to Princess Auto.

So now I gotta decide whether to shut up an' take what comes or try an' figure a way outta this whole mess. I think I'll opt for shutting up an' take what comes. I mean, what can be so bad about listenin' to a bunch o' yodelin' anyways? I used to listen to Wilf Carter an' Gene Autry an' survived. Just so long as I don't have to listen to Adelle yellin' again, I'll be well pleased. That in itself will be a bonus. Not so terrifyin' after all.

So you see, to every dark cloud there's a silver linin' if ya look at it in the right light, at least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.