War Nerd by Gary Brecher

Author:Gary Brecher
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Soft Skull Press
Published: 2010-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

ARISE, YE DANES!

BY NOW, EVERY unemployed Muslim on the planet has demanded that Denmark be beheaded. For a while there, every damn night, you saw on the news more of those Islamic demonstrations, with hordes of hairy guys raising their fists and chanting some crap.

Made me wish for a dive-bomber, or better yet a crop duster—if only I could have passed a pilot’s physical.

Every time I see one of those crowds, I can’t help but think of the smell there. That would be the worst thing about getting caught in an angry Muslim demonstration, worse even than getting attacked and beaten. It’s the smell I fear. All those unwashed armpits right over your head, bashing you and chanting about their Allah. You’d beg for death, you’d be moaning, “O believers, in the name of Allah the Great, the Unshowered, the Never-Heard-of-Speedstick, Whose Armpits Stink Like Anchovies in a Broken Fridge, will one of you find a rock or a sharp object to finish me off, already?”

For the most part, the biggest action was in Lebanon and Syria, where Danish embassies were burned down. As soon as I heard that, I knew the burnings had been ordered by Bashar al-Assad’s intel service, because nothing happens with Islamic on it in Beirut, never mind Damascus, unless the Syrian colonels in sunglasses OK it. Assad didn’t give a damn about Danish cartoons—in fact, his Alawite clan doesn’t even count as Muslim by most Imams’ standards. He just wants to remind Bush every so often that taking down Syria may be a cakewalk in stage one, just like Iraq was, but stage two, the occupation, will be way worse than Iraq is now, because Assad’s spies are smarter and tougher than Saddam’s goons ever were.

So in a way I’m kind of glad those Danish embassies burned, because maybe Bush will take the hint and not land us in another tar swamp. One’s plenty. But let’s be realistic. Bush’s last contact with reality was his senior-year report card at Yale. He didn’t enjoy it and hasn’t been back since. He’ll jump into Syria unless one of the Joint Chiefs draws a pistol and changes the C-in-C’s mind.

I saw the Danish cartoons online, and they’re as tame and lame as you’d expect from twenty-first-century Denmark, a whole country working 24/7 to make sure it doesn’t offend anybody, terrified it might be accused of being pro-Danish. God, we can’t have that! Scandinavians are so worried they might offend some Third Worlder that they make perfect prey for any murderer or rapist lucky enough not to be blond and tall.

But I wonder, do you Danes ever feel pride in who you once were? I sure hope so. Because you truly were great, the most mobile and greedy (I mean that in a good way) of all the Vikings. You had the best of all worlds; you’d happily farm your little Danish pastures half the year, and then when summer came, Dad would kiss the wife and kids (and cow) good-bye and sail off to slaughter any settlement his and his buddies’ longboats could reach.

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