Exploding Aardvark

Fortunately for me, there is a particular breed of super-vocal mega-patriot whose enthusiasm for American death is, conveniently, directly proportionate to the number of soldier’s lives I squelch out.

For these model Republicans, it’s like Iraq is a big old slot machine, our soldiers are shiny silver dollars, and the only way to ever get that sucker to maybe-possibly spit out a few nickels is to keep feeding the beast. Forever. No matter what. If for no other reason than to honor the memory of the silver dollars already squandered — and send them plenty of company so that they won’t get lone up in silver dollar heaven. Yes, under my watch, America has become a leathery, chain-smoking granny at Luxor, feverishly pumping the one-armed bandit that is Iraq.