(Not So) Great Moments in Fat History: Bye-Bye, Burgers.

Who says we have no exit strategy?

According to a story I read on CNN.com this morning, there are at least one or two American entities willing to lead the charge out of the Middle East, and get back stateside where they belong. Problem is, we're not talking about any official organization. Because the only buns that are hustling home anytime fast are of the sesame-seed variety: Both Burger King and Dairy Queen have announced a draw-down of deployed resources from Afghanistan.

"I can has cheezeburger? No? Well, I'll be a son-of-a-bitch."

Let me join my fellow Americans in the chorus of shock and awe as we ask, "What the fuck? Why in the hell were they there in the FIRST goddamned place?!?"

Now, don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't support the troops. I do. Though in fairness, it must be said that like most thinking people, I do have an ideological opposition to wasting thousands of lives, scores of years, and trillions of dollars fighting a futile war we have a less-than-zero chance of ever "winning." And before you argue - we may TALK a good game, but ultimately, Afghanistan is one of the few patches of dirt left on earth that has managed to utterly refuse every single historical subjugation attempt ever launched at it. Fer chrissakes, this a country that even Darius I, Alexander the Great and Genghis motherfucking Khan eventually gave the gas face to.

"Seriously, dude. That place is an ASSHOLE."

But obviously, none of this is the fault of any of the folks who currently fill the boots we're using to run roughshod over the fertile crescent. They have very little real choice over where they get sent, or what they're asked to do once they get there. And as such, I'm usually all about any provision that makes their lives even a little easier until they can get back. Movie nights? Fuck yes. Fire 'em up. USO shows? Absolutely. Give 'em all the Toby Keith, Jeff Foxworthy, and Pam Anderson shaking her tits around they could possibly stomach in any seven tours. Knock yourselves out.

But Burger King?!? I dunno...I guess I just have a hard time getting behind the idea of one of the greatest fighting forces in the history of man heading to evening mess, and having the option of ordering up a double #3 Whopper meal with large fries and a Snicker Pie.

"I do believe 'having it my way' means no onions, Sergeant. And that's an
order on at least two different levels."

And again, it's truly not that I support taking away any of the troops' creature comforts. Whatever helps make risking your life in service of a muddy, pointless goal inside a scorchingly sandy hell-hole even a little less of a Miltonian horror, I support it one hundred percent. I totally get that a double cheeseburger is a hell of a lot more appetizing than the freeze-dried MRE chili rattling around at the bottom of your MOLLE pack.

But.

It's a big ol' no-brainer that proper nutrition is essential. The military has a responsibility to help its personnel maintain peak physical shape. That is to say, the sort of condition it's necessary for a fighting force to be in in order for it to operate properly. If you're a soldier, and you're stuffing your face with the same sort of greasy, fat-saturated, cholesterol-soaked bullshit pseudo-food the obese morons back home gorge themselves on? It's highly unlikely that you're going to be in a hell of a lot better shape then THEY are. And at that point, you might as well hand any run-of-the-mill, buffet-surfing Chubbs O'Lardface an AR-15 and send 'em waddling out onto the battlefield.

I just can't help but assume that when Napoleon Bonaparte said, "An army travels on its stomach," he never envisioned a future where entire brigades could literally fucking roll out on them.

"On the upside, I'm actually wearing my own bivouac tent as a jacket."

And that's just as far as The Big BK is concerned. Because, honestly...Dairy Queen? Really? While I certainly don't begrudge anyone as simple a pleasure as ice cream, bear in mind that Dee to the Q is mostly in the business of foisting off the particular variety known charitably as "soft-serve" onto the public. Y'know, ice cream so puffy and flaccid that it's not just possible, but mandatory that you pinch it off with that little Superman's-forehead spit-curl at the reservoir tip.

And, while I like the stuff just fine, we're not exactly talking about a frozen dessert with a whole lot of structural integrity. Christ, I live in Minnesota, and I have a hard time maintaining my cone in a locked and upright position just between the counter and the car. So I can imagine how it must be in Kandahar, where the daytime temperatures often crest 125 motherfucking degrees Fahrenheit in the SHADE. Ten bucks says that by the time you get your goddamned wallet back into your BDU's, you're pretty much just left with a sticky, cream-covered wrist and a lot of shameful disappointment. And believe me, if there was ever an expert on the subject of sticky, cream-covered wrists coupled with incredible shame, it is yours truly.

"Here's your change, Colonel."

Look, let's get something straight. Ostensibly (at least in the best-case scenario), the American military fights to preserve our way of life by defending it from outside threats. Whether or not that's what's happening in this current great big Mess-o'-Potamia is an argument better left to smarter persons than I. But there has to be a line drawn, doesn't there? You're SOLDIERS, for chrissakes. The elite. Our best and brightest. In other words, you're just about the only Americans on the planet capable of getting up to go to the refrigerator without needing a quadruple bypass just to get out of the fucking La-Z-Boy first. So, electing to fuck that up by subsisting on Chicken Fries and Double-Bacon Baconburgers (with Bacon)? That isn't just a subjugation of your training and mission, it's borderline treason.

"I wanted out, so I ate myself into a court-martial. I just wish my cell-mate hadn't taken
such a shine to me. I was kind of hoping getting booted from the service would have been
the LAST 'dishonorable discharge' I'd take up the ass. But, then last night happened."

Okay, so 'treason' is slippery-slope/straw-man hyperbolic fallacy. But even so, the enlisted are fighting to defend the American way of life. There'll be plenty of time for them to actively participate in it once they get home. Because, let's face it: If they want to up their overall chances of that eventually happening by a rather significant margin, it might help to not only keep themselves in peak running condition, but also to present a slimmer, more agile (and therefore much harder-to-hit) target.

Pictured: The most popular G.I. at camp.
Nickname: "Private Meat-Shield."

So, I guess we'll see what happens. Maybe the loss of the flame-broiled goodness of Burger King will enrage the Armed Forces to the point that they'll fight all the harder, just so they can get back home and eat it again. Maybe the overall fitness level will spike, and they'll start squashing insurgencies like so many schoolyard quarrels. Or, maybe we'll just continue slogging around thigh-deep in molasses like what's BEEN happening. No matter what, at least none of it will be the fault or responsibility of a creepy meat-monarch/mascot with a frozen, plastic face.

Hey, wait a minute. Burger King as a corporate entity might be retreating...but maybe if we sent the actual Burger King HIMSELF over there, we could freak them out so bad that they'd lay down their Kalashnikovs en masse within a fortnight.


Now that's what I call "psychological warfare."