Thursday, November 23, 2006

the great game!

Yesterday I promised a part two of the worst party I'd ever attended. But I've got a flu coming on, so here's something I started this morning before my sinuses started filling up. Yummm.

James Conway, the latest US General in charge of the Irag-Afghanistan schlemozzle, repeated one of the standard rationales for the conflict: We fight them terrible terrorists there instead of here. Gen. Conway stated (from "Somehow I don’t think our people have made that connection and feel the same way that I do, and our troops do --that because there has not been an attack in this country is directly related to the fact that they are killing these … fanatics who would otherwise be trying to work their way in to Baltimore harbor or Los Angeles airport".

Aside from the logical confusion in that statement between causation and correlation: if the people back home don't get the connection, it's because it's never been explained properly. As far as I can tell, it doesn't matter how many troops you pour into Iraq - it's not like you're maintaining a physical barrier against a fortified position. If terrorists wants to hit LAX, they don't have to fight their way through a wall of American troops on the way to the travel agent. They'll book a ticket to LAX. Terrorist with sufficient resources and a well-defined program are not going to spend their time burying explosives on the road to Sadr City. They'll get on a plane and land at LAX. Visit Disneyland, have a drink at the Viper Room, take a photo of Drew Carey. Then their plan begins to unreel. As one distracts Drew Carey with an autograph, the other sneaks up and straps an IED to Carey's back and sneaks away on tiptoes. Carey spots IED in a classic double-take, looks up, sound of slide whistle and BOOM. Charred star, muted trumpet plays, and then it's on to a series of 30-second vignettes involving Drew Carey's hapless attempts at revenge. The terrorists make him run off a cliff, hit him with giant mallets, drop a piano on his head, cleverly disguise a brick wall as an alleyway - into which Carey runs smack. Eventually Carey gives up and the terrorists destroy vital infrastructure. They tip California into the ocean with a giant crowbar, and once everyone from Bakersfield to Sacramento is treading water, they do their terrorist dance to some tinny Turkish pop music. On cue, French people run up and start dancing in approval. And that's all, folks.

I can't say for certain that this will be the shape of the next assault on America, but really, if you've read the pundits of thunder and Islamo-fear, then my scenario is as good as any other.


sgazzetti said...

Allow me to humbly disagree: with juxtapositions like "charred star", lines such as "into which Carey runs smack", and throughly-imagined details like giant mallets and crowbars, your scenario is at least as good as any other and almost certainly far better.

Karen said...

This is pretty well-thought out for someone coming down with the flu. Or is it just the hallucinations, starting early? I guess we'll know for sure when Nevada becomes beachfront property.

Hmm, but I don't know, on second thought I think there's a hole in it somewhere....aha! Drew Carey??! Who stops him for a photo and autograph these days? Clearly, the authorities would be immediately suspicious if anyone approached him, and then, voila! The LAPD would descend, and justice would be done!

Oh. Wait. I see your point. Never mind.

trinity67 said...

I can't wait to read part two. You're an excellent story teller.

Anonymous said...

I know its trendy to hate America, and pretend the military isnt acomplishing anything, and that we rape flowers and burn korans and make children work in our salt mines, but I really wanted to hear part 2. Less whiney, more writey.

palinode said...

Gee, with encouragement like that, anonymous, I should just bend over and offer my asshole to you. What do you say? How about it, oh brave anonymous? Go elsewhere. Go bother other people with your distinctive name.

Oh, and "hate America"? Come on. Please. Reductive bullshit.