I think we all breathed a sigh of relief now that the election is finally over, similar to the sigh of relief that escapes you when a horrible period of constipation finally passes. The relief, I’m afraid, will be short-lived when Donald Trump and his demon horde begin implementation of Project 2025. Millions of voters took the short-term view of their futures. While casting their ballots for convicted felon and sex offender Dumbo Don thinking they’ll save fifty-cents on a loaf of bread, they didn’t bother to look ahead to figure how much more they’ll be paying for products when the Trump tariffs take effect.
Americans forgot why we sent him packin’ four years ago. He spent the least amount of time working in the Oval Office and the most time cheating on the golf course, more than any other president in history. People who know Trump, fellow Republicans, and those who actually worked with him warned us of the danger to democracy he embodies, but they were ignored in favor of a less expensive carton of eggs.
There will be mass sniveling down the road when reality hits Trump voters and they realize too late what damage they’ve done to the country, our freedoms and our way of life. Steve Bannon is already spraying WD-40 on the hinges of the Gates of Hell, getting ready to open them on Inauguration Day, 2025. I’d love to watch Trump being sworn in and see the Bible burst into flame when he puts his hand on it while the 666 on his scalp glows brightly, but I have to clean out the cat’s litter box.
But now for something completely different. I like to write about military-related incidents around Veterans Day, so I thought back to my highly-trained killer days in the Army and my final hours before leaving Korea and Eight Army Headquarters. I was strolling over to the Bank of America to close out my meager account, when a captain approached from the other direction, a small pile of folders under his left arm. I did the customary salute and good afternoon, sir, and continued on my way, when I heard, “Hold on. Don’t do that.”
“Do what, sir?”
“That saluting crap.”
“Crap, sir?”
“‘Sir.’ Don’t do that either. What’s the difference between us? We’re both wearing the same uniform supplied by this behemoth of a military machine at the expense of the citizenry back home, and for what?”
I began to look around for an escape route. “Well, sir…”
“I said don’t do that!” He snapped. “You don’t know for what! I don’t know for what! Nobody in the whole military complex knows for what!” He was beginning to work himself into a lather as he shoved a folder nearly into my face. “You see this. You know what it is? Bull crap”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“Where do you work?”
“G-1.”
“See this?” He opened a folder slightly, but I only got a glimpse of his green DA201 Personnel File before he snapped the folder closed. “I’m an air defense artillery officer. I’ve worked at Army-level in prestige positions. Then I got a letter explaining my assignment in Korea would be matched to my skills and best path to advancement in my career. You know what my job was?”
I shook my head no, glad that I didn’t tell him I did officer assignments.
“Freezing my butt off up at the DMZ in charge of cooks! You know what I know about cooking?”
“How to make a hot hamster turnover?”
“Nothing! You know what I’m going to do now?”
“The Funky Chicken?”
“I’m going right up to the headquarters building and throw this stuff in General Ridgeway’s face.” He got excited. “Come with me! We’ll both throw our stuff in the general’s face.”
“I don’t have any stuff to throw.”
He pushed a folder into my chest. “Here! Take some of mine. He won’t know the difference. We’ll march up there and both throw it in the general’s face.”
I started backing away. “Actually, I’m leaving tomorrow and…”
“And I’m on my way, too. On my way out of this system run by a bunch of pinko, right-wing, neo-Nazi, fascist, war-mongering pigs.” He began walking toward the headquarters building.
“Have a nice day,” I called after him. “Tell the Nazi pigs I said hello.”
I sincerely hope all you veterans out there had a wonderful day.