Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that has a better way to wage war.
All this talk of war – Iraq, North Korea, do we have to go on? – is really bugging us. Yeah, it’s bugging us for all the reasons it bugs you (pre-empted sitcom reruns, new and difficult to pronounce names of flavor-of-the-month broadcast reporters, having to turn your neighbor in to the Homeland Security department and the Total Information Awareness network again, dammit, etc.).
But it’s also bugging us because it seems like we spend way too much money on this whole thing, when instead we could be making money by putting it on Pay-Per-View.
See, we need to get all these other countries to agree to a gladiator-based war system. Instead of hundreds of thousands of soldiers – who could die, lose toes and noses, or just get weird, unexplainable diseases – and instead of destroying buildings, accidentally killing civilians and polluting the environment with toxic biological weapons, we just need to have our baddest dude fight their baddest dude.
What are we afraid of? Like we can’t find, among all these 300 million Americans, some tough-as-nails, kung fu-
kicking, name-taking guy who could put the smack down on anyone Iraq has to offer. We could let people try out for the job on a game show called, “Who wants to be America’s bad-ass?”
Yeah, people might be more likely to go to war all the time, but a lot less damage would be done. It’d be easy. Each country says what’s at stake – borders, money, rights, etc. – the U.N. helps them agree, and then their gladiators throw down. If they want to re-challenge, there should be stipulations about that in the broadcast rights agreement.
And then we could all watch it on TV. Talk about entertainment. And brokering world peace. Imagine all the arms makers of the world crying over this one. Then imagine all the companies that would be ecstatic if we put it on the networks and sold advertising – Budweiser, Hair Club for Men, nun-chuk makers.
No need to nominate us for the Nobel Peace Prize just yet. Do that when we figure out how to get daytime talk shows and entertainment “news” shows banned from the air.
Alex, our chief West Coast field agent based in Hollywood, sent us this recipe he found at AcmeVaporWare, a Web site we encourage you to check out. Here’s the recipe:
Flaky PR Puff-Pastry (see Goebbels)
1 cup Dubya, raw
8 cups Reagan-Bush Administration Cronies, chopped in throat-choking chunks
4 cups Supreme Court Failure
3 cups Ignorance
3 tablespoons Righteousness
4 teaspoons Intolerance
2 teaspoons Bile
1 1/2 teaspoons Smugness
scant 1/8 teaspoon Tact
scant 1/8 teaspoon Common Sense
2 tablespoons Hubris
3 cups Greed
6 cups Energy Interests
9 cups Defense Contractors
Preheat country to 68 degrees just lukewarm. Prepare PR puff-pastry and repeatedly puff until several feet thick while making filling. Place Dubya in a large bowl. Sprinkle lightly with ignorance, righteousness, intolerance and bile, as raw Dubya already has enough of all these ingredients. Set aside. Place Reagan-Bush-era crony chunks along with Smugness, Hubris, Greed, pre-prepared Supreme Court Failure, and all other ingredients in a bowl. Stir well. Discard tact and common sense. Add one bowl to another. Test for warmth. If warm, start over. If ice cold, then continue. (Warning: mixture won’t spoil, it’s already spoiled. Aging will only enhance its vitriol.) Set mixture aside.
Roll out PR puff-pastry for bottom crust. Sprinkle with Hubris. Place Reagan-Bush cronies in pastry shell, mounding them a little in the center. Pour in any remaining cold, sour juice from bowl, then dot with energy interests and defense contractors. Roll out upper crust, place over filling, and flute edge to seal. Set pie on lowest rack.
Bake for 3 years. Increase heat to Iraq’s desert daytime temperature of 100 degrees. Bake longer until people start to smell the money and corruption. Glaze with Righteous Indignation. Garnish with shredded Oath of Office. Serve in any way you can until people are fed up and have had enough.
Serving suggestion: Serve cold with lard.
You all know we love words, even the kind we don’t make up. But, honest, we didn’t make this up. You’re all familiar with the term “scuttlebutt,” we imagine. Well, it has nothing to do with the derriere, the dumper or the badonka-donk booty.
Actually, we learned reading our nerdy stuff about word origins, it comes from scuttle (meaning a small opening) and butt (meaning a large cask), i.e. a hole in a barrel you’d get a drink out of. Thus, it was the ancestor of our modern water-cooler, which as anyone who hangs out at their own Corporate Suites knows, is where you catch up on all the gossip.
Yeah, we know we’re dorks, but we thought that was interesting.
We have no idea what day it is anymore. Someone please orient us at
firstname.lastname@example.org, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just sing the “Happy Days” theme song on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
We’re out in a daze ..
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