Lance Uppercutt Wants To Fight The War

WarBlog 4
19 December 2006

Dashing through the air
In a jet-fueled war machine
O'er the death and despair
Anarchy -- what a scene!
(Ha ha ha)

Generals now appear
Needing photo ops
What fun it is to kick your ass
With work until you drop!
(Oh!)

Jingle bells!
Turkey smells!
The U.S. lost its' way!
It's called Iraq
And it's under attack
The troops are here to stay!
(Hey!)

Ah, the holidays are here again. It's that special time of year when families come together in the spirit of passive aggression, office parties make for awkward couples smooching in the copy room, and generals and politicians take time out of their busy schedules to visit the deployed troops so their bosses and constituents can pat them on the back later. Just make sure they're home by Christmas with their families or there'll be hell to pay. So we roll out the red carpet, line up in formation (really), and fake a smile while we shake hands with the people responsible for having us miss our holidays at home. I wonder if any of these important men realize that the steely dedication in our eyes looks a lot like mild aggression. Or that when they shake two hundred hands in twenty minutes no amount of Purell will kill all the germs they'll encounter. Merry Christmas! Enjoy the dysentery! The real problem, though, is that these visits that supposedly raise troop morale really make us angrier than Carmelo Anthony at Madison Square Garden. We all have to scurry around preparing the base and our squadron for a self-serving visit from some old fogey that most of us could care less about. A lot of people are in awe of these guys, but not me, and I think I've figured out why.

The term 'larger than life' has stuck with me ever since I was a little tyke, but no one important or famous that you've ever met is actually larger than life—it's always a letdown. They're all as regular as Metamucil. I guess I'll be impressed if I meet Ryan Reynolds or Naomi Watts and they turn out to be fifty feet tall and only sustained by the nutrition obtained from eating a small car. I'll be so amazed, in fact, that I will donate my Nissan without hesitation. That aside, I'm not impressed by these politicians and generals because I've met or seen hundreds of people with more intelligence, charisma, talent, and common sense than the majority of these leaders. Some of them were even in the Air Force. It's just that those kinds of people don't stay in the military. They get sick of every tool in the shed kissing more ass than a toilet seat and towing the party line through the ranks while their creative thinking and innovative leadership nets them reprimands and lessened responsibility. These people who you would follow into the fires of hell—laughing all the way (ha ha ha!)—end up leaving the military for greener pastures in the business world. Who does that leave? All the uptight geeks who will eventually become the generals sporting high-and-tights causing you an ass-pain during the holiday season, that's who. They'll come over for a few hours to see the base, get all the military nerds worked into a frenzy, and have you all line up in formation while they tell you to fight hard and come back safe for everyone that cares about you back home. That's not what I do; I fight hard and come back safe for chocolate pudding.

You see, when we fly into Iraq or wherever, most—if not all—of our day is spent on the jet so we bring flight meals with us. I always order the same thing, chicken sup 2. That's two chicken sandwiches with a supplement of fruit, pasta salad, juice, water, and a pudding cup. I normally eat the pasta salad on the flight over to Iraq, the chicken sandwiches when on the ground over there, and I save the pudding for the flight back to Turkey. Call it my 'Mission Accomplished Pudding." Some are motivated by the thought that we're doing the right thing over here. Some are motivated by rank. Some are motivated by the love of their life waiting for them to come home safely. I'm motivated by Snack Packs. I know if I don't deliver that cargo, get that jet off the ground safely and pointed back towards friendly skies I won't get my pudding. And if I don't get my pudding, then the terrorists win. I can't think of a better reward in the world. In fact, I think that I would be able to stomach more speeches from my leaders if there was a chocolate pudding cup waiting for me at the end. So to everyone out there facing unenviable tasks this holiday season (and I'm sure you are), happy holidays, do it for the pudding!