An Extremely Civil War

I’ve been giving it a lot of thought lately, and I think I may have a solution to the current debilitating stale-mate this country finds itself in: a civil war. Let’s be honest, we’re stuck in such a hyper-partisan rut in the United States, with both sides so firmly entrenched, that we need something big to shake us out of it. Why not a war? It seems like at this point the only place to properly bridge the gap between the political parties is on the battle-field. Let’s break the nation-wide gridlock by fighting to the death so we can finally figure out which side is, in fact, right?

Talk is not only cheap, it’s ineffective and for pussies without guns. The time for compromise is over. It’s time to strap up and put your manhood where your mouth is. Let’s see how committed to your political beliefs you really are, by finding out if you’re ready to die for them. As opposed to listening to someone else’s. You want to defend your party? Then do so. On the front lines and in the trenches.

We can fight wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, why not here? Why do we have to outsource all of our wars to foreign nations when people would die for a job right here in our country? If we learned anything from World War II, it’s that war is one hell of a way to pull a country out of a depression. A civil war is not just a great way to knock us out of this political quagmire; it’s a perfect way to jumpstart this economy. Let’s get America working again, by killing one another.

If our discourse can no longer be civil, then at the very least we should have a war that is. That’s why I’m not talking about unmanned drones and secret torture prisons, I’m talking about two opposing sides lining up across from each other in a large, grassy area and then charging. I’m talking about a good, old-fashioned classy war. The kind that can be re-enacted for years to come.

We are a nation that loves conflict. We were built on it. So in times of trouble we must return to our roots. We must lace up our boots. We must fight for what we think we believe in. Look around you. Watch the news. This country is angry. It’s about to boil over. And we need somewhere to channel that rage. So why not at each other? In a constructive way. Where we can determine a winner. Once and for all. Or at least for about 150 years.

 Think about that, it’s been exactly 150 years since we had our last civil war. Isn’t it about time for another one? Honestly, it’s completely ridiculous to believe that a 150-year-old war could settle all of our current problems. Think about how different our country is now. Then the nation tore apart at the seams because a thoughtful, well-spoken president was elected who many saw as a threat to their way of life. Now we have a 24-hour news cycle determined to make us all hate each other. Clearly we need a new civil war, to deal with all the issues of now.

How else could we hope to get this stagnant political system moving? Another election? That sure seems to have been effective lately. Throw the bums out? And let new bums in? I’m not so sure we want the House of Representatives to be a temporary shelter. No, the only thing that seems to ever bring this nation together is tragedy. And what’s a bigger tragedy than a neighbor killing a neighbor, a brother killing a brother, a wingnut killing a wingnut. In a grand scale. We need this war. For the sake of our country. For the sake of our future.

Drasticonian times call for drasticonian measures. If the politicians can’t get us out of the mess, then it’s up to the people to. By taking up arms and killing one another. It is our patriotic duty. This civil war is not just for our prosperity, it is for our very preservation. Our future as a nation hangs in the balance. And if we’re not willing to fight for that, than what I ask you, is worth fighting for.

 

Poor U.S.

                According to a recent Rasmussen poll, 51% of respondents believe that the United States’ best days are behind us. Jesus, talk about the country being half empty. Since when were we such a nation of pessimists?  I mean I’m as cynical as they come, I see the world through noose-colored glasses, but I’m not ready to guarantee that we’re on a long march to the gallows. What has happened to the psychology of this nation, and why are we so manically depressed?

                Wasn’t it just under 3 full years ago that we were all so full of hope? And now, nope. None of that. We have given up. It’s over. Finito. This country’s going to hell in Hyundai hand-basket. And, why? The economy stupid idiot. You moron. Everyone knows this country is an awful place to be because the economic recovery has been slightly slower than was hoped for by many economists according to some economical data. In other words, this place is a real first-world shit-hole. And there’s no saving it.

                That’s what the people are whispering in line at Whole Foods. A huge supermarket full of whole entire foods. Every vegetable you can ever want, and more that you never would, every fruit you’ve ever heard of, and some that you never will, every spice that you could ever add, and some that you never should, every organic cereal you could ever hope for, all as bland as a cardboard cutting board. And you should hear what they are saying in the countless other gigantic and more affordable super-markets super-packed with super-foods. This country is an awful place to be.

                That’s what the people are whining about in lines at waterparks. Huge parks based around wasting water. Slides as tall as sky-scrapers with water pumped to the top of them, then dumped down, with jets of water shooting out of the sides, all leading to a pool at a safe depth to receive the flying body of a fat teenager who just flew off an inner-tube, so he can swim safely to the water-covered steps and then go to the lazy river, a man-made river that flows at a man-made pace, until he’s rested up enough to go to the wave-pool, a giant pool that makes waves without using the moon. Man, this country is a disaster.

                That’s what the people are whimpering about in drive-thru lines at Wendy’s. One of 67 international fast-food chains started in America with a Wikipedia page and multiple locations where you can get a triple-hamburger, that’s three hamburgers in one, at any time of night without ever shutting down your car, or getting out, or doing anything, and a side of fries, and a milk-shake, and a stuffed baked potato with broccoli, cheddar, and bacon bits. What has this country come to?

                Is what they’re wondering in aisle three of Wal-Mart. Where you can purchase a cactus and a car tire, an ice tray and an ice skate, just one, a dog leash and a sack of soil, dirt cheap, and literally anything else you can ever want in a size bigger than you can ever dream for a price that can’t be beat in a store the size of a city borough that shares a strip mall with a place to get all the same things in a different variety should you not like the color of dog leash that Wal-Mart was offering. God, I wish we could just go back to a golden age.

                I just feel so bad for this poor country, and its poor inhabitants. And to think, they could live in Libya, or Latvia, or Lithuania, or all these other wonderful places, and they’re stuck living in this country where our GDP is only growing at 1%. We could be the millions of people living in abject poverty, but we’re forced to reside in this godforsaken nation where our obesity epidemic is contributing to our rising health care costs. It’s completely unfair that there are all these places that have no problems at all, yet we’re trapped in this problematic place where our politicians are mean to each other about the debt limit for all of eternity. It so sucks to be an American right now.

                No wonder were all so depressed. We’ve got it bad. We’re like caged animals trapped in the richest and most powerful nation in the known world. And we have no choice but to consume away the pain. To stuff our faces just to shut out the reality of our awful existence. To shovel sustenance down our throats to avoid speaking of the horrors that we witness everyday on our big screen televisions. To pad our stomachs while we tighten our belts. It’s truly a terrible time to be an American, and with our best days behind us, there’s nothing left to do but get in line to start complaining.

 

 

The Math of Marriage

Recently my fiancée encouraged me to make the switch from my beloved whole milk to the watered-down white water known as 2% milk. You see, I love milk. I love it with cookies, I love it with cereal, I love it with chocolate sauce, I love it in a cup, I love it in a bowl, I love it on a maid, I love it with magnesia, I loved the movie, I love its galaxy. The only time I don’t love it is with meat, but that’s another matter. So, my fiancée asking me to sacrifice that 1.25% of milk-fat was quite a dramatic request. And you know what I did, I’ve bought that blue-capped cow-sweat ever since. Because isn’t that what relationships are all about, compromise?

                I tell this story because I think it’s a fitting encapsulation of my upcoming nuptials. When I get married, in about 1 month, I will be willingly standing up and sacrificing 2% of my manhood. That’s right. That is the price a man must pay for love in his life—2% of his coolness. Which I think is more than fair. I clearly have plenty of awesomeness to spare, I think I can overcome a slight reduction. In fact, it might be good for me. And my gut. And if history has taught us anything, it’s that most men agree.

                2% of our coolness is what we must part with until our death. Let’s break-down the math that this entails. Let’s say that the most awesome man parties all the time. That would be a pretty cool dude, right? A guy who partied 24/7 365 days a year. Or 8,670 hours straight of partying. Now take that, and multiply it by 2%. Meaning you would be giving up 175 hours and 20 minutes of partying. Or 7.3 days. So, if the most awesome man ever got married, he would have to take off 1 week from the year and put in some real quality time with the missus. That seems about right. And probably a fair trade.

                As for the sex sacrifice? Very similar. Let’s say the most awesome guy tries to get laid every night. If he succeed 2% of the time, that would mean he would have sex 7.3 times a year. (A recurring number that numerous more numerologists who I won’t begin to enumerate should ponder.) Now this is an interesting statistic, because on the one hand only 7.3 wet dees seems like a pretty dry year, but 7.3 different women is a little over half a calendar. This is where the most fundamental question for every man emerges. Would you rather have sex 182 times a year (based on an average of 3.5 spousal intercourses per week) with 1 woman, or 7.3 times with 7.3 women? I know my answer. I do.

                There’s no way to deny that a married man is 2% douchier than a single dude. He has to go home earlier, he has to go Home Depot, he has to help clean his home, he calls his house a home, he’s a bit of a homo. Okay honey, you’re right honey, right away honey, here’s that organic honey you like from the farmer’s market honey. This is why I will never understand the argument against same-sex marriage. Because aren’t all marriages, by nature, a little gay? There is nothing macho about getting married.

                But 2% is really a small price to pay. So what if 1 out of 50 people you meet you’re never allowed to hang out with again because your wife won’t let you? That leaves you 49 other jerks whose company you don’t really enjoy either. Who cares if for every 3 hours you’re watching a football game you have to devote 3 minutes and 10 seconds to your spouse. That’s just one call at half-time, some stupid errand during the second quarter, or a set of downs missed for that same argument as always. Does it really matter if 2% of your daily conversation is now devoted to talking about your cat? Not when she always does such cute things. Trust me men, 2% of our lives are definitely valueless. That’s why we die a little younger.

And you know what, here’s the true truth that no man will ever admit. If we’re willing to give up that 2% of radness for a relationship, our lives get 98% better. That’s why we all make the sacrifice eventually. That’s why we all give up one vein of our two balls. That’s definitely why I am. Because we are a better person than we would be without that someone else. Even if we do have 2% of a vagina. It sure beats just growing fatter.