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Three months ago, they made my wife an offer she couldn’t refuse: See the world! Sure, it’s one city per day (and by “city” I mostly mean airport), but it’s a different city each day. Right now she’s on her way to London. That is in England, which is in Great Britain (which is better than Pretty Good Britain), which is in the United Kingdom. It’s where The Clash is from. It’s like a different country over there.
Not only is it “See the world,” but it’s eat your way around the world on $40 a day ($50 per diem internacionale, of course it’s not dollars then). So, while I am working my way through my culinary repertoire of burgers, dogs, tacos and frozen pizza, the wife is eating at various Potbelly’s and enjoying other indigenous cuisine. Fried chicken in Atlanta, ramen in Tokyo, deep dish pizza in Chicago, Chinese food in Houston…you get the idea. And desserts: various Dunkin’ Donuts, cupcakes in San Francisco, and delicious pastries from the gastronomical mecca Little Italy in New York. At least I get the benefit of an occasional squished Lou Malnati’s deep dish pizza thrown in the suitcase (and manhandled by TSA) upon her return.
With the amount of frequent miles (just the wear and tear, no points) and the discrepancy required for her job, my son is convinced the wife is an Air Marshall. My son watches too many movies. So, I say, “yeah, well where is the gun then?”
And he responds,”Leave the gun, take the cannolli…”
I am an agent of Central Intelligence, an analyst for the National Security Agency, and a member of Seal Team Seven. That’s one better than Seal Team Six. My mission: to take out the guy who took out Bin Laden. The mission is futile, as each and every Sixer claims to be the trigger guy. (No, I am Spartacus!) Anyway, the confidential nature of this blog could result in my termination. Which is fine. The year continues to wind down and the ol’ blog wanes with it.
Who am I kidding? I’m no sleeper agent. I can barely get enough sleep as it is. (And you know who else should hibernate: the Chicago Bears.) This country’s only central intelligence is that everyone in the Midwest knows that the only chance to stay warm this winter (stupid Polar Vortex) is to breach the White House fence and cuddle with a Secret Service officer. Our national security can not even sustain the maintenance requirements of our decrepit nuclear arsenal. It is a program in disarray, disrepair, and dis is the stuff of pre-apocalyptic, post cold war spy thrillers. Where’s Robert Ludlum when you need him?
Speaking of pulp fiction, we can’t even win a propaganda war against ISIS. I am surprised that they haven’t yet linked the spread of the Ebola virus to the extremists. And the Polar Vortex (even in sub-Saharan California, I had to buy Jilly some fleecy, footie jammies to stay toasty) too…afterall, they have “ice” in their name. Instead of costly air strikes, we should be photo bombing them with pictures of Kim Kardashian’s derriere. That will scare (and scar) them back into the stone age (when Bruce Jenner looked like a dude). We should use our missiles against the encroaching and unrelenting vortex instead. We didn’t have these problems when Hillary was Secretary of State.
Scariest of all recent happenstance (not the Rock, Paper & Scissor halloween costume we saw), was the Republican sweep of congress. It’s gonna be a long, lame two years of inaction. Kind of like the recent (and not so recent) Cubs. At least, they’ve got a proven managerial winner (finally) and some decent prospects! That’s right: 2015 is promising. It could be the Cub’s year and Hillary in 2016 is right around the corner.
So, when the world is running down and things appear bleakest, you just got to listen to that Great American Philosopher Taylor Swift and “Shake it off!” Girl can really write a song. Too bad Swifty’s not running our national security.