Our plan for Iran
It was good to read the Wiki-leak documents this week as they confirmed something I had first heard about a year ago from my cousin Ronnie. Ronnie likes to call herself a master mechanic, but as everyone in the family knows, she is only a master at taking things apart. She has no interest and no skill at putting things back together. At ten, she took her father’s Oldsmobile apart using just a screwdriver, a pair of pliers and a tire iron. Ronnie’s dad, Ben, never really recovered from the loss of his Olds. He spent the rest of his short, sorry life driving Fords.
Ronnie told me that she would be away for an extended period on a secret mission. I figured, “Sure Ronnie, and the fifty dollars you owe me will be away on a secret mission as well.” Ronnie is in the military. She is one of thirty five American soldiers not committed to the war in Iraq or the war in Afghanistan or to one of our many baby-sitting missions around the globe. The force we have in S. Korea comes to mind—a great gig by any account.
And now, thanks to Wiki-leak I know what is really going on. We have invaded Iran. All this talk about sanctions and bombs is just smokescreen; we currently have boots on the ground in Iran. Well, six boots to be exact. In addition to Ronnie, we have a Corporal Adam Powell, a computer geek from Palo Alto, and ex-PFC Johnny Jim Byrd from Wheeling. Ronnie is Jewish, Adam is black and Johnny speaks Farsi as if he were raised in West Virginia, but no matter.
By now, you have probably figured out the basics of our grand plan. We have snuck these three into center of the Iranian nuclear complex, where they have already achieved great things. Ronnie has become the “master centrifuge mechanic.” When that strange virus (that neither the Americans nor the Israelis will admit to sending) struck the Iranian centrifuges a while ago, and half of the massive machines began to rotate faster and faster to Hava Nagila, while the others stood at attention and began to sing The Star Spangled Banner (out of key), Ronnie was called in to fix them. Seventy-three percent of them are now out of commission and there is little hope of ever repairing them.
Adam Powell has introduced video games, surfing the net (from porn to poker), and several classes in designing and launching web sites( from 8 AM to 6PM, Saturday through Thursday). At last count, several thousand nuclear workers are participating. Google Irantm has opened offices at the old American Embassy in Tehran. And that good old boy, Johnny Jim, has started the Iranian Nuclear Workers Union. He has, in particular, instilled the importance of seniority and job security into the industry. The recent strike in Shiraz, reported in the November 12th edition of the New York Times, and the subsequent massacre of workers, is just one example of what is happening there.
Clearly, we have nothing to fear from Iran.
You will also be happy to know that I have it from a thoroughly unimpeachable source—my cousin Harriet, that we will soon be invading N. Korea. The idea is to send a small group of marines—recruited from the same idle force of 35, to Pyongyang. Each of these marines has been certified as a dance instructor by the Arthur Murray Studios. Once there, they will teach Kim Jong-il, his son, and perhaps some of the higher ranking officers, ballroom dancing. As I write, they are planning to teach the waltz, the fox trot and, of course, the cha cha cha. There is even some talk of tango. As you might imagine, these dancing tyrants will pretty quickly go from the most hated people on the planet, to people you are dying to have at your next soiree.
And, as Hymie Rickover once famously said, “popular people do not need nukes.”