I attended last night's Iraq panel at the church in Hollywood. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that at some point during the stirring calls to action, I started looking around at the crowd and my mind wandered to this imaginary scenario...
IRAQ, JANUARY, 2005. A MARINE ENCAMPMENT. 4 BIG, MEAN-LOOKING, TATOOED JARHEADS ARE SITTING IN A CIRCLE, STARING DISCONSOLATELY AT THE GROUND AS THEIR C.O. BROWBEATS THEM.
C.O. Am I hearing right??????? Are you men shitting me?????? What in sweet Jesus, Joseph, and Mary's name is going on here?????????
MARINE 1: We're not going on patrols today, sir.
MARINE 2: What's the point?
C.O. What's the point???? The point is, you're Marines. You're here fighting for this pissant country's freedom.
MARINE 3: I know, sir. We're the toughest, meanest killing machines in the armed forces...
MARINE 1: ...blah, blah, blah.
MARINE 4: Sure, we're in top physical condition, we've been trained to withstand inhuman conditions and still come out fighting...
MARINE 2: (CHOKING BACK A SOB) But nobody told us there'd be protesters!
C.O. Protesters?????????? What in Satan's balls are you talking about????
MARINE 1: Protesting the war...back in the States. Little old ladies, retirees...
MARINE 3: Single women who own lots of cats...
MARINE 4: (BURSTING INTO TEARS) Soccer moms!!!!!!!
HE WEEPS AS THE OTHER MARINES COMFORT HIM.
MARINE 4: I'm so demoralized.
MARINE 2: Me, too.
C.O. SITS DOWN ON THE GROUND, SHAKEN.
C.O.: I'm sorry, men. I had no idea. Those heartless bastards.
MARINE 3: Sir, would you like to listen to some Fiona Apple? She really helps.
C.O. Yeah, bring it on.
SOMEONE HITS "PLAY" ON A BOOMBOX. FIONA APPLE SINGS AS THE MEN STARE AT THE GROUND.
END.
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