Letters to the Editor
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Here's a Plan for you - you find the chicken-shitiest, fat-assed, bum-tickered old draft dodger and drunk driver (two -2! - count'em 2! - convictions) . . .
you can - someone whose sole exposure to enemy fire is the flaming batons he used to douse in a coffee can of water when his skank wife finished her flaming baton performances - someone whose sole military service has been helping himself and his corporate butt-buddies to feed at the trough, someone to whom knowledge of military history, the art of warfare and the techniques of military action are as alien as the simple gun safety rule of never shoot your hunting companion in the face - and you make HIM the de facto war czar - so that anyone actually qualified to do the job heads for the hills.
That's a plan, alright, but not one destined for any success.