A modest proposal
A few centuries ago, one of my favorite writers, Jonathan Swift, penned a mock essay entitled “A Modest Proposal,” in which he suggested an excellent way to solve the rapidly increasing population problem. It was to begin eating babies. It is a very delightful composition, and I suggest you all read it.
One of the editors of the commentary section, the debonair Jonathan Dewbre, recently sent me some interesting articles from the Internet.
In October of 2002, as it happened, Iraqi vice president Taha Yassin Ramadan proposed that Saddam Hussein and George W. Bush duel to settle the pending Iraqi-American conflict.
The article, from wpvi.com, said the Iraqi official showed no “outward sign that he was joking.”
Naturally, White House press secretary Ari “I’m one smooth S.O.B.” Fleischer said, “I just want to point out that in the past when Iraq has disputes, it invaded its neighbors.”
Such is the typical response of our government.
What I’d sure like to know is what the heck happened to the speak-softly-and-carry-a-big-stick attitude made so popular by my boy Roosevelt? You know what Ari should have sound-bited? He should have eyed the cameras like a rabid Doberman Pincer and said, “Bring it, bitch.”
Wouldn’t that have made Valhalla exult in orgiastic ecstasy?
Thomas Jefferson, the Monticello maestro, once shot a man on the White House grounds for treason. Thanks to the good people from the dairy industry and possibly from our eighth grade U.S. history classes, we know about the famed Aaron Burr battle.
We need to promote this fight like Don King on speed. This needs to happen.
For America. For our dead presidents. For manifest destiny. For the red, white and blue, dammit.
In recent articles, I have expressed my views about war. I don’t particularly like it. But hey, we all know about opinions. I think we can all agree, however, that this duel thing is far superior to a war.
Look: if we go to war with Iraq, it will be like Ivan Drago’s comment from “Rocky IV”: “I will crush you.” Except unlike the Stallone written and directed film, the favorite – us, naturally – would undoubtably prevail. It would be like a fight between the Highland Park boy’s choir and a group of bull riders.
And think of the Pay-Per-View revenue!
Should old Bushy want to restore the plunging economy, he should hype the event with all his influence. Think of it . . .
“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to The Big Stinky in Helsinki! In this corner, standing around six feet and weighing in at about a buck eighty, George “I’m gonna Walker on you” Bush! And in this corner, weighing in at a deuce and a half and featuring a circa 1978 mustache, Saddam “Thank Allah I’m not getting smart bombed” Hussein.”
Then they’d rumble. George, though giving up a lot of weight, is quicker than Saddam, I assume. Even though Dubya went to the school with perhaps the wimpiest reputation in the world, Yale, I know he could take Saddam.
Our president is, after all, a ten-gallon hat wearing, Texan cowboy. If he can’t duke it out to save the lives of possibly thousands of American men and women, he is worthless to us as a people.
Georgie, go whip some Saddam ass. And do it personally. Then, stop by France and slap the brie out of Jacques “We French forget an entire century of your saving our asses” Chirac’s mouth. Maybe that way, George, you just might get my support in 2004.
And maybe Hughes-Trigg will begin serving sautéed infant next week.
