“You know, growing up in Minnesota I always thought I was liberal. And then I moved to Northern California.”

(sigh)

Yes. We do have more than our fair share of folks who give new meaning to the phrase “lunatic fringe” don’t we?

But let’s back up shall we?

Several months ago my dad’s unit was put on notice that they were about to take another tour through the land of the two-way gunnery range. Could be Iraq again or, maybe just maybe the Army would shake it up a bit and send them to Afghanistan because you know? Seeing a third world shit hole that was different from the last one might just distract them enough to make having RPGs fired at their aircraft bearable.

Well, just recently his unit passed the last of the qualifications for deployment and were given the green light. Ladies and gentlemen, update your wills, grab a body bag and kiss your kids goodbye because come February we’re heading out for the South Asian Vacation.

Since its inception, the mission in Afghanistan has ostensibly been about defending ourselves from further attacks by rogue groups such as Al Qaeda. For the record I believe this work to be necessary – albeit we were definitely a little late on the uptake in this region – and I support the effort.

I also acknowledge that our military in its current incarnation is an all-volunteer organization. My dad is in because he made the choice to be there and whining about him being sent to do the job that he trained for and accepted willingly would be disrespect of the highest kind.

That being said, I am beginning to have doubts about the war effort. Not so much with our military. When unfettered by idiotic bureaucracy the men and women of our military have proven themselves most capable. My doubts lie with us and our worthiness of such efforts. Because honestly? I look around and I find myself thinking “for these people my dad might get his ass blown off?”

I mean, it’s one thing for people to let their hair down and have a zone in which they can relax and feed their brain on silly things. It’s quite another to become utterly consumed by shallow bullshit and allow it to weaken our global perspective. For example, why have consumers decided to make the celebrity rag industry such a ginormous cash cow? Am I the only one who thinks that Brad and Angelina’s marriage is irrelevant? Who realizes that Britney Spears troubles are not worth the paper that tabloids continue to print them on?

Unfortunately, our slack-jawed obsession with celebrities is nothing compared to other weaknesses in our society. Such as the trend displayed by a few of my classmates who, after having made horrible decisions that landed them on public assistance, shrug off the opportunities afforded them by publicly funded financial aid programs and cut class. Then, on the odd occasion they actually do show up, complain bitterly about the impact that their failing grades will have on their financial aid status.

Or some of my neighbors who, about every six months, resurrect the idea of installing video equipment to record every square inch of our community because privacy is meaningless when there’s a one in a three gazillion chance that your child can be abducted and sold into the white slave trade. This is probably one of the more depressing ones to me since I question the ability of our society to survive when we are incapable of responding to the latest media boogeyman in a way that’s more meaningful than slobbering hysteria.

How about the people who claim that the proof of their magnanimity can be found in their support of goofy shit like socialized medicine? So let me get this straight, you get awesome human points for voting away the paychecks of your fellow citizens but can’t be bothered to dirty your hands volunteering at a battered women’s shelter or halfway house. How big of you. Hypocrisy should be painful.

…and don’t even get me started on the viewership that justified the making of a second season of “Flavor of Love“.

So yeah, I get a little irritated when I think of my dad and his colleagues being deployed to places Iraq and Afghanistan to protect the interests of a nation filled with people who can’t be bothered to put down the People magazine, do their damned homework, cope rationally with life’s inherent risks or abandon their comfort zone long enough to give a genuine leg up to their fellow man. Or maintain enough perspective to deal with low-fat milk and stop bitching at the underpaid Starbuck’s employee already.

Sometimes it’s necessary to expect members of our military to make uncommon sacrifices on behalf our our nation. But part of the deal is, or at least it should be, that all of us make the effort to be worthy of that sacrifice. This Veteran’s Day we should challenge ourselves to be better people whose lives and energies aren’t bled dry by brainless consumerism or massive efforts to sequester ourselves in tiny worlds in which we are the star occupant. Instead we should honor our veterans by reaching out and taking minor discomforts in stride (and trust me, anything that doesn’t threaten your life or the life of someone you love is a minor discomfort) in order to justify our continued existence in a world that has cost many their lives to achieve.

I would transcribe the rest but I didn’t hear it, seeing as how I was too busy slamming my head into a locker to make my brain stop hurting.

Oh! And speaking of stupid, did anybody notice that Ms. South Carolina visited my blog? Yes! She did! And she left a comment on this post! Betcha can’t guess which comment is hers!

(Now that I have your attention I would like to apologize to all my readers and fellow bloggers whose blogs I have not visited recently. Once again I have been trying to focus on Ye Olde Novel which means that I have been a very bad blog reader and commenter. I promise to atone for this sin by throwing a Death Chic(k) Reader Appreciation Kegger at my house. Come on by.)

“So what? It’s a toga party?”

“Uh hum.” (nodding in the affirmative)

“So, like, what is Terra going to wear?”

“Who knows? She’s a walking fashion tragedy.”

“Probably a hot pink bedsheet.”

“Uhh…” there was a long pause as a stretch was executed. “Everyone knows that togas are not pink.”

“Yeah, but that won’t stop her.”

“Toga’s are not pink.”

“Totally.”

“Everyone knows that togas are… like a white, or off-white, maybe beige, or even almond color. Pink wasn’t even invented back then.”

“Back when?”

“Greek times.”

“Oh.”

“I have the best idea for a toga. I saw it in a magazine and they look, like, totally real.”

“Uh huh?”

“Yeah. They are beige and have like this leaf-thing for a belt.” She makes a sweeping gesture around her waist. “…and they are totally skimpy!”

“Yeah?”

“Mark’s eyes’r gonna bug out.”

“Do you think Terra will try to talk to him again?”

“Better not. Besides, we’re gonna look so good. Mark won’t even notice her.”

“Ya think?”

“Totally. Togas are not pink.”