Enlistment Age: Going Up and Up
Don’t pay any attention to all that leftwing naysaying. Military recruitment is going just fine, thank you very much. The Marine Corps is bringing thousands of inactive Marines back to Iraq — well, ahem, sputter, uh, it’s, it’s not what you think. The Army has raised its enlistment age to 42 — uhh, mmm, squirm, now let’s not read anything into this.
Look on the bright side. Families are going through Boot Camp together. Family memories are being created. Imagine: you’re 42 years old, and your 19-year-old son is in the same company with you. Your drill sergeant runs up to you, face twisted in fury, and yells “Listen up, Worm! How many times to I have to show you this?!?!”
And there’s your son, watching Daddy get screamed at and dissed by a younger stronger tougher male. Ahh, a Kodak moment.
America is sure changing — and for the better of course. Low-income workers don’t need any help from the government because if they aren’t making enough money they’re just stupid and lazy. We don’t need to worry about Environmental Armageddon — if it happens, it was God's will. And military service is no longer just for the young and fit: if you can breathe and talk, We Need You!!!
Until recently the enlistment age was 35 (and most enlistees were much younger than that). Then they raised the maximum age to 39 because things were a little, well, uhh…you know…And now it’s 42??? We might as well just cut to the chase and start scouring retirement communities and assisted living facilities. “Sir! You moved! Uncle Sam Wants You!!!”
Pretty soon running 10 or 15 miles a day and doing jillions of pushups will be replaced by Yoga, deep breathing and various physical therapy movements. “Drop down and give me 40!!!” will give way to “now, try to move your arm slowly in a circular motion. That’s gooood.”
And think of the money saved by the Pentagon and the Veterans’ Administration. We have countries to invade; we don’t have money to spend on whiny veterans coming home and crying “Waaaaahhhh!!!!! I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” “Boohoohooooooo!!! I lost my right leg.”
The VA will be able to respond with “Hell, his great-grandson says he can’t remember anything anyway. We’re off the hook.” “He was already limping along with a cane. So what if he lost a leg — what’s the difference?”
Someday, foxholes will be full of soldiers reminiscing about their childhoods, and repeating the same stories over and over. And watch for armored vehicles patrolling the streets of Baghdad — with their left blinkers on.