Marry Me, Driftglass

Go. Read. Ignore the Dominatrix Gopher or whatever that is:

We put 20-year-olds in this impossible bind of either kicking the shit out of everyone that spooks them or ending up in the amputee ward at Walter Reed. If they’re lucky. And then we elect a cabal Neocons and off-the-scale crazy Fundies who make is crystal clear that in their dark hearts they believe the only good ay-rab a dead ay-rab anyway.

And then when we run out of 20-year-olds we find 39-year-olds and do the same exact thing.

The veterans of this war should never have to pay for a single thing in their entire lives. Free health care? You got it. Free house, car, best job on the block? It’s yours. College? Go on, pick out which university you want. Just pick. Don’t want to carry your books? We’ve got your back, man, no worries.

How would we pay for it? How about rescinding the salaries of every single irresponsible neocon nutjob who looked at a map of the Middle East and said, “We can fix that shit right up.” RETROACTIVELY. That’s right, Mr. Feith, we saved your pay stubs and you just get your checkbook out now and write us a nice little memo for the total you leeched off us while your staff screwed around with classified documents and your great ideas all crumbled to dust. How about making George W. Bush work off his retirement as a Wal-Mart greeter? No fancy house, no library, no pension, no nothing. He likes his social security plan so much, let’s let him live on it. How about taking $80 billion from the next excellent adventure this bunch of rotting husks plans out and using it instead to try to make up for what we’ve done so far? We might be able to make it up to some of the soldiers. I can’t imagine there’s any amount of money that will make it up to the Iraqis.

And don’t tell me it can’t be done. If there’s one thing Iraq has proved once and for all, it’s that there is no idea so outlandish that it won’t be seized on and executed in the name of patriotism.

A.