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War humor...

Send in the Old Guys


(We received this piece as an anonymous email...we'll be happy to give credit to the writer if and when we hear from you!)

Old soldier

I've said that if I could, I'd enlist today and help my country track down those responsible for killing thousands of people in New York City and Washington, D.C. But, I'm over 70 now and the Armed Forces say I'm too old to track down terrorist. You can't be older than 35 to join the Army.

They've got the whole thing backwards. Instead of sending 18-year-olds off to fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be allowed to join the army until you're at least 35, just after  qualifying for a driver's license.

For starters:
- Researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every 10 seconds. 

- Old guys only think about sex a couple of times a day, leaving us more that 28,000 additional seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy.

- Young guys haven't lived long enough to be cranky, and a cranky soldier is a dangerous soldier. If we can't kill the enemy we'll complain them into submission. "My back hurts!" "I'm hungry!" "Where's the remote control?"

- An 18-year-old doesn't like to get up before 10 a.m. Old guys get up early just to show we can (and to steal the neighbor's newspaper and pee).

- If old guys are captured we couldn't spill the beans because we'd probably forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank, and serial number would  be a real brainteaser.

- Boot camp would actually be easier for old guys. We're used to getting screamed and yelled at and we actually like soft food. We've also developed a deep appreciation for guns and rifles. We like them almost better than naps.

The army could lighten up on the obstacle course, however. I've been to the desert and didn't see a single 20-foot wall with rope hanging over the side. I can hear the Drill Sergeant now, "Get down and give me...er...one."  And the running part is kind of a waste of energy. I've never seen anyone outrun a bullet.

An 18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still learning to shave. To actually carry on a conversation. To wear pants without the top of  the butt crack showing and the boxer shorts sticking out. To learn that a pierced tongue catches food particles. And that a 200-watt speaker in the back seat of a Honda Accord can rupture an eardrum.

All the above are great reasons to keep our sons and grandsons home and let them learn a little more about life before sending them off to some Godforsaken land to do something they can't even imagine. Let us old guys track down those dirty, rotten cowards who attacked us.

The last thing they'd want to see right now is a couple of million old farts with attitudes without their morning coffee and no chance of an afternoon nap.

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