Sand Fleas in My Shorts

I just discovered my friend Wayne’s brother is still mobilized in Iraq. He’s got a job (or at least he did… shows how little concern I’ve expressed over the last two years to not even realize he had never come home like I thought) that brings him in close proximity to potential no-goods-its, and in my not-so-humble opinion, the man doesn’t get paid nearly enough. Better equipment and training are essential, of course, but when we ask men and women to endanger themselves again and again and to carry out unpleasant exercises against an enemy who doesn’t distinguish himself from noncombatants, it’s also important to pay like we appreciate the sacrifice. Of course, proposing to increase military spending would make me evil. And Islam is a religion of peace, Americans are the true bad guys and we don’t need a standing military anyway. Right? Plus, poverty is just so dadgum ennobling!

In related news (sorry), my father’s Drittefrau announced that he was going to go be a contractor in Iraq. She said the first $80k or whatever was tax-free, so I guess that makes it okay. I haven’t heard whether my father actually knew about it before she started telling the family of the career change, or even if it really ever was (or still is) a possibility. I guess it’s his business, but I hope it’s his decision if he winds up doing something so idiotic. I mean, taking insane risks for an unappreciative public is one thing, but doing it for money is something quite else. It makes the reasons for all the jeopardy two-dimensional and really subjective.

Hey, can’t we all just be rich without getting shot at?

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