I Wouldn't Want To Owe America Any Favors (or 'How wojr Is Not Really Out To Piss Off A Navy Seal')

Over at Froggy Ruminations, Scott King comments about Saddam's latest Playgirl pictorial – some of it quite amusing. However, he hits on one of my pet peeves and plays the WW2 card.

The moral of this story - don't kick a brother while he is down, especially if that brother is the only reason your grandkids are not speaking German and your wife is not wearing a burkah.

For those of you that do not know, the United States, after being attacked by the Japanese in 1941, entered a war that they had desperately been avoiding. In doing so, not only did America help turn the tide of the war for England and liberate the French from German occupation, but the United States managed to finally escape the economic effects of the Great Depression and transform itself into a world superpower.

Of all the countries involved, America reaped the most benefits from the Second World War - yet we, both the citizenry and their elected officials, still feel like we're owed more.

It's like this. Imagine your grandfather was getting his ass kicked by this huge skinhead in a bar brawl. Then, let's say my grandfather jumps in, starts fighting this muscle-bound bastard and, collectively, our ancestors end up winning the scuffle. They steal the skinhead's wallet (because, hey, to the victors go the spoils) and leave the bar with two fetching bar wenches.

Flash forward sixty years and picture me on your doorstep. I relay the story of our grandfathers and suggest heading down to the local pub for a drink. You agree. You even insist that you pick up the tab since, not only did my grandfather help out your grandfather, but your grandmother ended up being one of the wenches from the bar.

So, we get to the bar and I have a hankering for a Jack Daniels. The bartender tells us that weird little beige guy in the corner just bought all the Jack Daniels in the bar, nine bottles worth. Being the nice fellow or lady that you are, you suggest buying some other drink. You also propose going to another bar to get some Jack Daniels. Hell, you even offer to go ask the odd little man to sell us some of his booze. But I won’t have any of that. We're going to go kick the shit out of this little, dirty brown man and take all his Jack Daniels and you HAVE to help because my grandfather helped you out sixty years ago. Forget the fact that my grandfather got some cash and gash in reward for his bravery. You still owe me, the asshole grandson.

The moral of this story a) if my country offers you a favor, read the fucking fine print, b) I tend to get beer-muscles and c) any Navy SEAL, even little beige ones, could kick my ass!

wojr  ¶ 1:55 PM