MY LOUSY WORLD: Onward soldiers, march through memory lane

Posted 5/26/15

Memorial Day is often referred to as “Beer Drinker’s Spring Training,” with official opening day coming July 3. It originated after the Civil War, originally called “Decoration Day” and later shortened to “D-Day.” It’s always …

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MY LOUSY WORLD: Onward soldiers, march through memory lane

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With the precision of a special op, Memorial Day completed its mission and retreated into obscurity until called on again. Many uninformed Americans don’t even know this holiday’s origins, but that’s what I’m here for. Educating the masses isn’t just my job, it’s my duty.

Memorial Day is often referred to as “Beer Drinker’s Spring Training,” with official opening day coming July 3. It originated after the Civil War, originally called “Decoration Day” and later shortened to “D-Day.” It’s always celebrated on the last Monday of May, except on leap year when it’s moved up to the fifth Tuesday in June.

Partial joking aside though, Memorial Day obviously honors our fallen soldiers — those brave ones who sacrificed all to protect our freedom. Unlike both my brothers, I never served in the armed forces; in fact, I was kicked out of the Boy Scouts for putting pranks and self ahead of God and country. I likewise decided against the military once I learned they set the sleeping schedule. My reveille sounds no earlier than 10 and I make no exceptions.

While I detest the morning, Memorial Day is a time for mourning. I never lost anyone dear to war, but I certainly mourn many other things. I traditionally live in the past, as my high school girlfriend whose picture I still carry in my wallet would surely attest. (She may call it stalking; I call it nostalgia). But during bad adult days, I do mourn the lost irresponsibility of youth and all that came with it.

I mourn Sgt. Agarn of F Troop and a disgraced soldier with a broken sword in “Branded.” I miss Gunsmoke, Ronald Reagan hosting Death Valley Days, and the Sunday night theme music to Bonanza. I mourn Trampas, Little Joe, Miss Kitty, Clem Cadiddlehopper, Ralph Kramden and his loveable sidekick, Norton.

Sure, I still watch TV from sun up till the wee hours, but I’ll never recreate that feeling of rushing home from the school bus to watch Yogi Bear and Coco the Clown.

I might enjoy the music of Florida Georgia Line and Lady Antebellum, but not like I loved the British Invasion...The Beatles, Monkees and Paul Revere & the Raiders. And oh how I mourn the loss of Simon and Garfunkel singing “Coo coo ca choo.”

And although still mourning the loss of my foreskin, I’m blessed with a keen foresight. My friend Suzi Johnson still tells people how I predicted in a column back in the 90s that the Internet — which I had no first-hand knowledge of at the time — trumpeted for all the good it brings, will one day bring the Battle of Armageddon. And how is ISIS recruiting fresh, bloodthirsty savages daily? Correctamundo!

I love being able to Google how to get cat urine odor out of a couch as much as the next guy, but the Internet will usher in far worse things than the porn and piano-playing cats we’re used to. You just hide and watch!

My almost mystical visionary aptitude foresees history testifying — should there be anyone left to write it — that America fell as a result of 16 straight years of the two worst, most ineptly-dangerous for exact opposite reasons, presidents in U.S. history. The 43rd felt entitled to do anything to prove America’s might, while the 44th will prove America’s weakness at any cost.

The former fantasized about being a “wartime president;” the latter futilely lusts after being known as the president who brought peace. One barged into an unnecessary war against warnings of “unintended consequences” from retired military experts; the other ignores warnings from top generals to engage in a war that threatens humanity. The tough guy-wannabe threw around terms like “axis of evil,” and growled “bring it on!” when roadside bombs began obliterating our soldiers. His predecessor won’t even call the enemy by name and goes merrily along golfing minutes after watching an American beheaded.   

One employed a maniacal hawk for his V.P. while the other opted for a seemingly harmless but buffoonish second banana. Thus, neither impeachment nor assassination could have offered us a wise, safe alternative. Can’t we all just put aside partisan politics long enough to admit we’re first-hand witnesses to the two worst presidents in U.S. history? Where have you gone, Joe Dimaggio; a nation rests its lonely eyes on you ... woo woo woo.

Amidst the Mid-East takeover featuring beheadings, crucifixions, children buried alive and the slaughter of Christianity, a dude can’t help but nervously await the dropping of the other shoe. Yessir, these are sobering, frightening days, but all is not lost.  

So here’s to you Mrs. America, Jesus loves you more than you will know; wo wo wo. God bless you please Mrs. America, heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey, hey hey hey …

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