In a few shorts months that romance can be all yours, Mr. President
Dear President Bush,
I read recently that you were envious of the Americans serving in Afghanistan, saying "It must be exciting for you ... in some ways romantic, in some ways, you know, confronting danger." You even suggested that if you were a few years younger-- like maybe if you were just some fresh-faced 22-year old right out of college and your country was at war in some prehistoric country where it was almost impossible to distinguish friend from foe-- that you would jump at the chance to feel the rush that comes from the "fantastic experience" of securing democracy in some godforsaken Third World hellhole.
Mr. President, when I read those words, I couldn't help but think of those young Americans serving in Afghanistan, fighting the Taliban, Al Qaeda, Afghan and Pakistani tribal warlords, opium kingpins and foreign jihadists just dropping in for some shits and giggles and random acts of violence, and wonder just how those lucky bastards keep all that romance bottled up inside of them. Here I am, sitting in my office like a bump on a log, eating my steak and cheese, surfing my sorta NSFW websites, wondering where all the romance went in my life, when I read your inspiring words and realize that romance isn't dead-- just that true romance only exists in places where the locals spend each day trying to kill you.
I mean, I'm all for supporting our troops but if these guys are over in Afghanistan living high on the hog, drunk on the unmistakable romance of dodging IED explosions and watching their friends die-- talk about romance!-- then maybe we shouldn't be worrying about sending them Pop Tarts. Our men and women in uniform are supposed to be hardened killers. Sure, the romance of spending months in an Afghan wasteland and dodging wild AK-47 rounds was what convinced them to join the military but we shouldn't overload their systems with any more emotional baggage.
It's like Laura tells you on Halloween-- too much candy and you'll throw up. Over in Afghanistan, American troops are neck deep in romance. Sure, it makes us feel good to send them care packages or write them a letter or help out their families stateside, but aren't we being just a bit short-sighted? Our troops love being in Afghanistan. It's barren and deadly and depressing and romantic. But too much of a good thing could lead to problems, Mr. President.
If Americans in Afghanistan are getting showered with care packages and they're receiving all the things they miss most about home-- soap, socks, Kevlar-- then what's left for them to come home to? Already, students across the country are signing up to spend a semester in Afghanistan or backpack through the Khyber Pass. The secret is out-- Afghanistan is the new Prague. Except cheaper, more romantic and more accepting of skinning your enemy alive.
I have a crazy idea, Mr. President, but please hear me out. It's obvious that the cat is out of the bag about the crazy levels of romance to be found in Afghanistan. There's nothing we can do about that now. But public exposure of Afghanistan's record level of romance constitutes a clear and present danger to the national security of the United States of America. As more service members experience the romance of trading gunfire with bands of crazed Islamic extremists, they're very likely to petition to stay in Afghanistan indefinitely.
It's one thing for the U.S. government to order our military to spend years in some foreign land-- that's your right as Commander-in-Chief and you wield it expertly-- but it's quite another for these soldiers, sailors and Marines to think that they can just abandon their country and allow themselves to be seduced by the sweet nectar of Afghani romance.
There is only one solution, Mr. President. You need to bring these romance-addicted service members back to the States and allow them to spend long stretches in the bosom of Lady Liberty. A few weeks after returning to their homes, American service members will have almost completely forgotten about the romance of unarmored Humvees, amputations and spending countless hours fighting an enemy sworn to kill you.
At the end of the day, sir, you know what's best for our military. You're the only one in Washington brave enough to talk about how fortunate our military is to experience the romance of war. Like yourself, I didn't have to experience war firsthand to realize its inherent romance. As I sat in the move theater and watched the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan, I couldn't help but think of how much of a liar my grandfather was.
I hear all these stories about storming the beach at Normandy and not once does that old phony even utter the word "romance." Blah, blah, blah, horror. Blah, blah, blah, carnage. Blah, blah, blah, nightmares. I wish he was still alive because I would be in his face and asking him why he hated America so much that he couldn't even admit that storming the beach at Normandy was the most romantic moment of his life.
Of course, now all I hear about is PTSD. Soldiers being driven to suicide by the horrors they saw on the battlefield. I don't like to speak ill of the dead but give me a break. These guys are just killing themselves because they're heartbroken that they'll no longer experience the romance of combat. Not because they've been repeatedly denied access to underfunded, understaffed VA clinics that lack the resources or support services to adequately treat their PTSD (a likely fairy tale promulgated by the liberal media).
God bless you, Mr. President, for giving so many young Americans the chance to discover the romance of war for themselves. Just make sure those kids don't overdo it-- you know how much 18-year old's love the romance of losing a limb in Khost.
Sincerely,
Peter Powers
PS- You may also want to investigate if the staggering amount of romance available to American service members in Iraq has played a role in the inexplicable length of that conflict.