After any battle, when the napalm clears and the teenage carcasses are stealthfully shipped to Dover, the aspect of war I enjoy best occurs. I am, of course, referring to the passing out of the jewelry. (I think the military willfully insists on still calling them “medals.”) Some still plagued by the disloyal powers of observation might point out that we Republicans enjoy ridiculing and besmirching men who receive medals for little more than nourishing foreign soil with their blood-type while serving their country more than 100 miles from their local dry cleaners. That is only because we realized a long time ago that those who actually go to war are shirking their more important duty to stay home and declare one.
November 13, 2004 7:13 AM
