loosie: words: The Untalented 40 Percent

The Untalented 40 Percent

Americans are increasingly unhappy with Bush's handling of the war -- well, all except the idiots.

by B.D. | 2005.08.29

It’s no secret that President Bush’s approval ratings are spiraling down the tubes faster than baggies of Horse when the policia attempt to batter down the door of the Sunoco restroom you and Francisco have been holed up in for just under 72 hours. But particularly hard hit has been the percentage of Americans who still approve of his handling of the war in Iraq. Over the past week, pundits have expressed shock that almost 60% of George’s countrymen are concerned that Operation Iraqi Freedom has been shoddily executed. Whether it be the seeping piles of dead Ohio servicemen, the timely protests of Cindy Sheehan or the thrice-delayed Iraqi constitution, we at Loosie couldn’t care less about analyzing the Americans who are displeased with the war. No, our interest is piqued by the other 40%, the stalwart four-out-of-ten who still remains giddy with pleasure at how the grand Iraqi invasion is being conducted. After some seriously mind-searing research, we have concluded that the supporters of Bush’s Iraqi debacle consist of the following groups:

Fans of the word “quagmire” – Even the least William Safiresque among us can agree that “quagmire” is a wondrous word, an etymological miracle fusing together a pair of equally lovable syllables. “Quag” is blunt and porcine, a bark of a sound that inspires apparitions of pigs, cloven hooves and curlicued tails. And “Mire” is, by itself, indicative of “deep, slimy soil” or bog-like terrain. Together, they are hog heaven, a frothing sty of moaning sows and foraging snouts. But do a quick Google search for “quagmire”; other than Iraq and Vietnam, it’s nothing but a bunch of shit about “The Family Guy”. And since Vietnam has already been well fought and lost, those among us who wish to continue using this cherished chunk of language are forced to stick it out in the burning streets of Basra.

Roadside explosive buffs -- Much like foreign film or micro-brewed beer, roadside explosives have inspired their own group of aficionados who follow the industry with an eye much more refined than the rest of us laypeople. Where we simply see ruptured automobile skeletons and bundles of intestines strewn like party streamers, they can point to the ingenuity of employing Syrian technology to craft a “shaped-charge” explosive that sends a molten metal slug through a vehicle’s armor. With IED (improvised explosive devices) attacks now at 40 per day, it’s little wonder that over 200 US soldiers have been killed by IEDs in 2005 alone. Still, most of humanity drones on, unable to appreciate the fragile ballet of destruction. But lovers of roadside bombings whistle in shock and/or awe at the cat-n-mouse antics of insurgents who study US troop movements and place dummy IEDs in order to learn our disposal methods and security procedures. If the war in Iraq were to draw to a swift conclusion, where will the IED connoisseur get his fix? Manhattan 2007?

Saddamophobics -- Sure, the Iraqi Crusade continues to be a pointless exercise in how to blow billions, kill thousands and start a civil war in order to remove a clawless penny-ante dictator. But forget the Lincoln Log cabins of stiff corpses for a moment; we got Saddam. That’s right, George took him out. Enough blood has sunk into the Mesopotamian sand to make the oil rigs spout Tahitian Treat, but evil-ass evil-doer al Qaeda-type Hussein is safely behind bars. So we can finally rest easily, knowing that New York’s skyline and London’s subways will never again be choked with the noxious smoke of a Saddam-generated terror plot.

Amputee Devotees -- When devotees holler about “BK’s finest” they’re not talking about Jay and Big. That’s “below knee” to the uninitiated (as opposed to “AK”, or “above knee”). In the world of amputee adoration, stump location, much like any Corcoran real estate ghoul could attest, is everything. With polio and other crippling diseases on the wane and fewer children toppling into polar bear pits than ever before, the Iraqi war is a windfall for those who get randy off ampulove; every day, legions of strapping, athletic youngsters with IED-ravaged appendages are merrily rehabbing in military hospitals, readying for the chance to turn you on. The longer we stay in Iraq, the more sweet, sweet amputees we’ll find down at the neighborhood water hole, guzzling Tecate and coyly wigging their stumps at anyone with a extra cigarette.

War profiteers -- Shit, why would Halliburton or any of its nefarious subsidiaries ever want peace? Little known fact: Halliburton is only partially paid in monetary sums – the rest comes in the form of writhing, tortured souls, which will beat against the walls of a giant glass aquarium in Dick Cheney’s office for eternity.

The Battle of Algiers is Prophetic Club – Intractable war? Western forces beset by guerrillas in a Muslim country? The futility of checkpoints and heavy-handed military action in rooting out insurgent cells? Word. If we get out of Iraq now, scholarly bastards will be unable to sigh wistfully during a BBC telecast and say “This is just like Battle of Algiers – have you seen it like I recommended?” And you won't have to stare at the ground and mumble, “I was going to, like, last Thursday, but I got caught up in a rerun of Living Single, you know, the one where the girl loses her car keys in the wedding cake.” And they won't be all like, “You’re as dumb as a bag of cement.” And you won't be all like, “Whatever, Fellini sounds like pasta, ask anyone.”