WE'LL FIGHT TO THE LAST 50-YEAR-OLD!
By: Jeff Ackerman
[OPINION Wednesday, October 3, 2001]
A couple of weeks ago I indicated that if I could, I'd enlist today and
help my country track down those responsible for killing thousands of
innocent people in New York City and Washington, D.C. But I'm 50 now and
the Armed Forces says I'm too old to track down terrorists. You can't be
older than 35 to join the Army.
They've got the whole thing backwards. Instead of sending 18-year-olds
off to the fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be able
to join until you're at least 35-years-old. For starters:
Researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every 10-seconds. Old guys
think about sex every 15-seconds, leaving us more than 28,000 additional
seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy. Young guys haven't lived
long enough to be cranky and grumpy. A cranky and grumpy soldier is a
dangerous soldier. If we can't kill the enemy we'll complain them into
submission or surrender. "My back hurts!" "I'm hungry!" "Where's the
remote control?"
An 18-year-old hasn't had a legal bottle of beer yet, and you shouldn't
go to war until you're at least old enough to legally drink beer. An
average old guy, on the other hand, has probably consumed at least
126,000 gallons of beer by the time he's 35, and a jaunt through the
desert heat with a backpack on and an M-60 over your shoulder would do
wonders for a beer belly.
An 18-year-old doesn't like to get up before 10 a.m. Old guys get up
early just to show we can [and to steal the neighbors newspaper.] If old
guys got captured we couldn't spill the beans because we'd probably
forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank and serial number would be
a real brain teaser. If it wasn't for the age barrier, I'd pretty much
be able to get into the Army without a hitch. According to the Army
Internet site, I'd need to pass an entrance exam [officially called an
ASVAB], but the simple questions I saw weren't exactly headache
material. For example:
A magnet will attract:
(a) water
(b) a flower
(c) a cloth rag
(d) a nail
I took a wild stab at it and guessed, "nail," knowing they'd probably
stick me in some desk job with Army Intelligence after Boot Camp.
If 12 workers are needed to run 4 machines, how many workers are needed
to run 20 machines?
(a) 16
(b) 18
(c) 3
(d) 60
Well, let's see now.....three workers per machine times 20
machines....err....60?
Finally, they wanted to know if I had command of the English language,
just in case I had to describe an enemy camp from memory.
Now you know where the first questions come from for the "Who Wants To
Be A Millionaire" game show. Boot Camp would actually be easier for old
guys.
We're used to getting screamed and yelled at, and we actually like soft
food. We've also developed a deep appreciation for guns and rifles. We
like them almost better than naps. The Army could lighten up on the
obstacle course, however. I've been to the desert and didn't see a
single 20-foot wall with a rope hanging over the side. I can hear the
Drill Sergeant now. "Get down and give me.....er.....one!" And the
running part seems to be a hell of a waste of good energy. I've never
seen anyone outrun a bullet. I'm reminded of the story of the young bull
and the old bull standing on a hill looking down at the cows. "Let's run
down there and make love to one of those cows," says the young bull.
"How about we WALK down there and! make love to ALL those cows," replies
the old bull.
Patience is something most 18-year-olds simply do not have. For good
reason too. An 18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still
learning to shave. To actually carry on a conversation. To learn that a
pierced tongue catches food particles. And that a 200-watt speaker in
the back seat of a Honda Accord can rupture an eardrum.
All great reasons to keep our sons at home to learn a little more about
life before sending them off to a possible death.
Let us old guys track down those dirty, rotten, filthy, cowards who
attacked our country three weeks ago today.
The last thing they'd want to see right now would be a couple of million
old guys with attitudes!
-----Jeff Ackerman is editor and publisher of the Nevada Appeal.
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By: Jeff Ackerman
[OPINION Wednesday, October 3, 2001]
A couple of weeks ago I indicated that if I could, I'd enlist today and
help my country track down those responsible for killing thousands of
innocent people in New York City and Washington, D.C. But I'm 50 now and
the Armed Forces says I'm too old to track down terrorists. You can't be
older than 35 to join the Army.
They've got the whole thing backwards. Instead of sending 18-year-olds
off to the fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be able
to join until you're at least 35-years-old. For starters:
Researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every 10-seconds. Old guys
think about sex every 15-seconds, leaving us more than 28,000 additional
seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy. Young guys haven't lived
long enough to be cranky and grumpy. A cranky and grumpy soldier is a
dangerous soldier. If we can't kill the enemy we'll complain them into
submission or surrender. "My back hurts!" "I'm hungry!" "Where's the
remote control?"
An 18-year-old hasn't had a legal bottle of beer yet, and you shouldn't
go to war until you're at least old enough to legally drink beer. An
average old guy, on the other hand, has probably consumed at least
126,000 gallons of beer by the time he's 35, and a jaunt through the
desert heat with a backpack on and an M-60 over your shoulder would do
wonders for a beer belly.
An 18-year-old doesn't like to get up before 10 a.m. Old guys get up
early just to show we can [and to steal the neighbors newspaper.] If old
guys got captured we couldn't spill the beans because we'd probably
forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank and serial number would be
a real brain teaser. If it wasn't for the age barrier, I'd pretty much
be able to get into the Army without a hitch. According to the Army
Internet site, I'd need to pass an entrance exam [officially called an
ASVAB], but the simple questions I saw weren't exactly headache
material. For example:
A magnet will attract:
(a) water
(b) a flower
(c) a cloth rag
(d) a nail
I took a wild stab at it and guessed, "nail," knowing they'd probably
stick me in some desk job with Army Intelligence after Boot Camp.
If 12 workers are needed to run 4 machines, how many workers are needed
to run 20 machines?
(a) 16
(b) 18
(c) 3
(d) 60
Well, let's see now.....three workers per machine times 20
machines....err....60?
Finally, they wanted to know if I had command of the English language,
just in case I had to describe an enemy camp from memory.
Now you know where the first questions come from for the "Who Wants To
Be A Millionaire" game show. Boot Camp would actually be easier for old
guys.
We're used to getting screamed and yelled at, and we actually like soft
food. We've also developed a deep appreciation for guns and rifles. We
like them almost better than naps. The Army could lighten up on the
obstacle course, however. I've been to the desert and didn't see a
single 20-foot wall with a rope hanging over the side. I can hear the
Drill Sergeant now. "Get down and give me.....er.....one!" And the
running part seems to be a hell of a waste of good energy. I've never
seen anyone outrun a bullet. I'm reminded of the story of the young bull
and the old bull standing on a hill looking down at the cows. "Let's run
down there and make love to one of those cows," says the young bull.
"How about we WALK down there and! make love to ALL those cows," replies
the old bull.
Patience is something most 18-year-olds simply do not have. For good
reason too. An 18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still
learning to shave. To actually carry on a conversation. To learn that a
pierced tongue catches food particles. And that a 200-watt speaker in
the back seat of a Honda Accord can rupture an eardrum.
All great reasons to keep our sons at home to learn a little more about
life before sending them off to a possible death.
Let us old guys track down those dirty, rotten, filthy, cowards who
attacked our country three weeks ago today.
The last thing they'd want to see right now would be a couple of million
old guys with attitudes!
-----Jeff Ackerman is editor and publisher of the Nevada Appeal.
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