Deep Throat Returns:
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The Testosterone Wars 20 November 2002 The next engagement in Iraq may be the first major battle of World War III. I think instead, in a future era we will call this episode in U.S. foreign policy the "The Testosterone Wars." Offensive war requires a convergence of four things. A shared sense that the status quo is unjust and inequitable, availability of technologies, means and mobility of destructive forces, young men to do the actual fighting and dying, and a mobilizing theory. This theory reacts with and modifies the other three, like egg whites in a good soufflé. It can be anything from nationalism, Marxism, fascism, or anarchism. Democracy also works, especially when it is very stale. The mobilizing theory is essential, and it reacts spectacularly with raw testosterone. Richard Perle, head chef in the propaganda war to take over Baghdad, knows exactly what I am talking about. Thomas Omestad wrote recently in the U.S. News & World Report that Perle is a master of the lemon and grapefruit soufflé. I was so impressed at his multi-talented genius, I thought……maybe we could change history and save lives if we solved this conflict in a cook-off! Why not? A cook-off between the Chef Poulet de Faucon (aka Monsieur Chicken Hawk) and the scrappy but evil challenger, Chef Sodama! Sodama isn't going to be on the cover of Bon Appetit anytime soon. He's as ugly as repeated soundbites from the "if-we-say-it-long-enough-it-will-be-true" President and Secretary of War regarding intelligence-supported links between the mustachioed atheist, the soft-spoken Wahhabist, and the 9-11 terror attacks. When Saddam and Osama become one in the troubled minds of our leadership, you get something like "Sodama." And the clock starts …… now! First ingredient: Sense of an unjust status quo is brought to both cooks. Poulet de Faucon whips his into shape, cleverly diverting the focus from homeland defense to desert offense. It's generating volume slower than expected. He whips it harder. Sodama looks to his left bank for the right utensil, and then attacks the status quo. It's foaming up nicely. Second ingredient: A plate of technologies, means and mobility is provided both chefs. Poulet de Faucon takes a look, frowns and selects a few special forces, piles on loads of means and requests more from the unseen hand (Chef's assistant Adam Smith runs back to the pantry in a panic). Faucon likes what he sees in mobility. Move it here, and there, and there too! It's looking very impressive at this point. But wait…. Sodama is smiling! Quickly and creatively, he seems to have put together an interesting set of mobility, means and technologies. And he seems to have plenty left over on his plate. How curious! But we have no time to ponder, time is of the essence! Third ingredient: Several vials of various mobilizing theory are offered both cooks. Poulet de Faucon selects a large vial of righteous indignation, and a small equal portions of nationalism and Zionism, with a little Keynesianism in hopes that a good war will help the economy through more federal spending. Sodama chooses equal parts radical pan-Islamism and - like Faucon, a large vial of righteous indignation. Apparently, Faucon chose the fresher of the lot, and looks like Sodama is left with some righteous indignation that must be at least 40 or 50 years old, maybe older. Final ingredient: Testosterone is delivered in sealed quart containers. Each chef must break the seal and use what he has. Sodama opens his container, and the testosterone flows. After all, with at least 50% of Egypt, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Iran and Iraq under age 25, and Pakistan and Afghanistan holding at 62%, there is no shortage here. Poulet de Faucon opens his up, and pours. All is well, then suddenly Faucon notices that after a few drops, nothing else is coming out. "I've been cheated!" he cries. "Stop the competition!" The judge comes out, checks the container, and shakes his head. "That's it, America and Europe have very few young men to sacrifice in this competition. Each one is extremely expensive, so be assured what you have is the equivalent to what Sodama has. You'll just have to go back and use more technologies and mobility and means to make up for it." Poulet de Faucon must now make it up as he goes. Well, I guess he's pretty good at that, in fact, it seems to be one of his specialties. It is hard to say who's winning the cook-off now, but the very ugly Chef Sodama is sitting pretty. O.K.,
sorry, I guess the cook-off was a bad idea. What about sending the
old men in the Pentagon and that house by the Naval Observatory to
Iraq for some handball playoffs? |
