from Fred; for your amusement...or not!
I have just read in Army Times that, to my delight, the Army is making soldiers wear the prettiest red high-heels in the pursuit of gender-equality. Yes. They look like little girls playing with Mommy's shoes. It has something to do with understanding the psychological problems of women, a matter of importance in combat. It necessarily was done with the approval of the Army's generals in the Pentagon, particularly Chief of Staff Odierno, since they are in charge of the whole Army shebang.
I write them in astonished admiration, thusly:
Dear General,
I see that on your watch the Army is turning into a transvestite marching corps in high heels, a Ziegfeld cross-gendered or bisected gay-bath sexual zoo vacuuming up every sort of erotic loony, not to mention becoming a home for unwed mothers and prostitution rings. I commend you. I have always wanted to be defended by a freak show.
True, traditionalists, and warriors, and cranky old Marines will say that you are just another sorry two-bit, peace-time, careerist politician of a pseudo-soldier who doesn’t have the balls to stand up to feminists and protect the service from becoming a display ad for Victoria’s Secret. I am shocked. How could they think such a thing?
What I figure, General, is you ought to set an example for the troops by wearing panties and a bra (if you don’t already wear panties: I give you credit for miitary foresight.) A good officer--we had some--doesn't order his men to do anything he himself wouldn't do. Walk a Mile in Her Skivvies, General. (Actually, when I was a hard-charging young Gyrene, we spent a lot of time trying to get into women's skivvies. Now it’s going to be mandatory?)
Now, General, I speak only for myself as a Marine who carried a rifle in Viet Nam, but others may agree with me. (A “rifle” is one of those awful long thingies (no, not those long thingies) that make boomy noises and stinky smoke and put stains on your cocktail dress that just ruin it.) Outside of Da Nang we used to lie behind sandbags at night with mortars coming in (a “mortar” is one of those gun thingies with a tube—no, a different kind of tube, General—that shoots--never mind) hoping a hit wouldn’t spray a buddy’s guts around. To a man we were thinking, why couldn’t we have a leader like a Pentagon general to give us cute little heels instead of these uncomfy old boots?
Now, mean old military historians who say that in a real war soldiers die because of posturing peace-time political pogues (I was in an alliteration company)—what do they know? A few thousand lives are a small price to pay for gender-equity. Besides, those who do the fighting are not the girly-boys, the boy-girls, the katoys, the to-be-decideds, the climbing vines with their cucumbers chopped, or the single mommies who have to look after some random guy's kid. These, the core of the Army, will not be troubled. As you have shown, we must stay with core values.
Them’s my thoughts, General. And I suspect that every guy who ever served in a combat zone shares my overwelling respect and admiration for you. If anyone criticizes you and you feel all upset and flustered, take your Midol, breathe deeply and it will get all better soon.http://fredoneverything.net/PussyGeneral.shtml
I have just read in Army Times that, to my delight, the Army is making soldiers wear the prettiest red high-heels in the pursuit of gender-equality. Yes. They look like little girls playing with Mommy's shoes. It has something to do with understanding the psychological problems of women, a matter of importance in combat. It necessarily was done with the approval of the Army's generals in the Pentagon, particularly Chief of Staff Odierno, since they are in charge of the whole Army shebang.
I write them in astonished admiration, thusly:
Dear General,
I see that on your watch the Army is turning into a transvestite marching corps in high heels, a Ziegfeld cross-gendered or bisected gay-bath sexual zoo vacuuming up every sort of erotic loony, not to mention becoming a home for unwed mothers and prostitution rings. I commend you. I have always wanted to be defended by a freak show.
True, traditionalists, and warriors, and cranky old Marines will say that you are just another sorry two-bit, peace-time, careerist politician of a pseudo-soldier who doesn’t have the balls to stand up to feminists and protect the service from becoming a display ad for Victoria’s Secret. I am shocked. How could they think such a thing?
What I figure, General, is you ought to set an example for the troops by wearing panties and a bra (if you don’t already wear panties: I give you credit for miitary foresight.) A good officer--we had some--doesn't order his men to do anything he himself wouldn't do. Walk a Mile in Her Skivvies, General. (Actually, when I was a hard-charging young Gyrene, we spent a lot of time trying to get into women's skivvies. Now it’s going to be mandatory?)
Now, General, I speak only for myself as a Marine who carried a rifle in Viet Nam, but others may agree with me. (A “rifle” is one of those awful long thingies (no, not those long thingies) that make boomy noises and stinky smoke and put stains on your cocktail dress that just ruin it.) Outside of Da Nang we used to lie behind sandbags at night with mortars coming in (a “mortar” is one of those gun thingies with a tube—no, a different kind of tube, General—that shoots--never mind) hoping a hit wouldn’t spray a buddy’s guts around. To a man we were thinking, why couldn’t we have a leader like a Pentagon general to give us cute little heels instead of these uncomfy old boots?
Now, mean old military historians who say that in a real war soldiers die because of posturing peace-time political pogues (I was in an alliteration company)—what do they know? A few thousand lives are a small price to pay for gender-equity. Besides, those who do the fighting are not the girly-boys, the boy-girls, the katoys, the to-be-decideds, the climbing vines with their cucumbers chopped, or the single mommies who have to look after some random guy's kid. These, the core of the Army, will not be troubled. As you have shown, we must stay with core values.
Them’s my thoughts, General. And I suspect that every guy who ever served in a combat zone shares my overwelling respect and admiration for you. If anyone criticizes you and you feel all upset and flustered, take your Midol, breathe deeply and it will get all better soon.http://fredoneverything.net/PussyGeneral.shtml
