We'll Fight to
the Last 50 + -Year-old! By: Jeff Ackerman
A couple of weeks ago I
indicated that if I could, I'd enlist today and help my
country track down those responsible for killing thousands of
innocent people in New York City and Washington, D.C. But I'm
50 + now and the Armed Forces says I'm too old to track down
terrorists. 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 the fight,
they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be able to join
until you're at least 35-years-old. For starters:
Researchers say 18-year-olds
think about sex every 10-seconds. Old guys think about sex
every 15-seconds, leaving us more than 28,000 additional
seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy. Young guys
haven't lived long enough to be cranky and grumpy. A cranky
and grumpy soldier is a dangerous soldier. If we can't kill
the enemy we'll complain them into submission or surrender.
"My back hurts!" "I'm hungry!"
"Where's the remote control?"
An 18-year-old hasn't had a
legal bottle of beer yet, and you shouldn't go to war until
you're at least old enough to legally drink beer. An average
old guy, on the other hand, has probably consumed at least
126,000 gallons of beer by the time he's 35, and a jaunt
through the desert heat with a backpack on and an M-60 over
your shoulder would do wonders for a beer belly.
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 neighbors newspaper.] If old guys got
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 brain teaser. If it wasn't for the age
barrier, I'd pretty much be able to get into the Army without
a hitch. According to the Army Internet site, I'd need to pass
an entrance exam [officially called an ASVAB], but the simple
questions I saw weren't exactly headache material. For
example:
A magnet will attract: (a)
water (b) a flower (c) a cloth rag (d) a nail
I took a wild stab at it and
guessed, "nail," knowing they'd probably stick me in
some desk job with Army Intelligence after Boot Camp.
If 12 workers are needed to
run 4 machines, how many workers are needed to run 20
machines? (a) 16 (b) 18 (c) 3 (d) 60
Well, let's see now.....three
workers per machine times 20 machines....err....60?
Finally, they wanted to know
if I had command of the English language, just in case I had
to describe an enemy camp from memory.
Now you know where the first
questions come from for the "Who Wants To Be A
Millionaire" game show. 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 a rope hanging over the side. I can
hear the Drill Sergeant now. "Get down and give me.....er.....one!"
And the running part seems to be a hell of a waste of good
energy. I've never seen anyone outrun a bullet. I'm reminded
of the story of the young bull and the old bull standing on a
hill looking down at the cows. "Let's run down there and
make love to one of those cows," says the young bull.
"How about we WALK down there and make love to ALL those
cows," replies the old bull.
Patience is something most
18-year-olds simply do not have. For good reason too. An
18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still
learning to shave. To actually carry on a conversation. 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 great reasons to keep our sons at home
to learn a little more about life before sending them off to a
possible death.
Let us old guys track down
those dirty, rotten, filthy, cowards who attacked our country.
The last thing they'd want to
see right now would be a couple of million old guys with
attitudes!
Submitted by Mike,
Broomfield, Co.