in hindsight...

[kingbunky 3]

Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection teams in Iraq? They're all men!

How in the name of the United Nations does anyone expect men to find Saddam's stash? We all know that men have a blind spot when it comes to finding things. For crying' out loud! Men can't find the dirty clothes hamper. Men can't find the jar of jelly until it falls out of the cupboard and splatters on the floor.... and these are the people we have sent into Iraq to search for hidden weapons of mass destruction?

I keep wondering why groups of mothers weren't sent in. Mothers can sniff out secrets quicker than a drug dog can find a gram of dope. Mothers can find gin bottles that dads have stashed in the attic beneath the rafters. They can sniff out a diary two rooms and one floor away. They can tell when the lid of a cookie jar has been disturbed and notice when a quarter inch slice has been shaved off a chocolate cake.

A mothercan smell alcohol on your breath before you get your key in the front door and can smell cigarette smoke from a block away. By examining laundry, a mother knows more about their kids than Sherlock Holmes. And if a mother wants an answer to question, she can read an offenders eyes quicker than a homicide detective.

So... considering the value a mother could bring to an inspection team, why are we sending a bunch of old men who will rely on electronic equipment to scout out hidden threats?

My mother would walk in with a wooden soup spoon in one hand, grab Saddam by the ear, give it a good twist and snap, "Young man, do you have any weapons of mass destruction?" And God help him if he tried to lie to her. She'd march him down the street to some secret bunker and shove his nose into a nuclear bomb and say, "Uh, huh, and what do you call this, mister?"

Whap! Thump! Whap! Whap! Whap! And she'd lay some stripes across his bare bottom with that soup spoon, then march him home in front of the whole of Baghdad. He'd not only come clean and apologize for lying about it, he'd cut every lawn in Baghdad for free for the whole summer.

Inspectors my tail... You want the job done? Call a mother.

"Hang on a sec, the young'uns are throwin' beer cans at a golf cart."
MB4252 TDS699
killing threads since 2001

[quade 4]

Actually, one of the lead biological weapons inspectors is a woman and a mother.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn/A55750-2002Dec14?language=printer

quade -
The World's Most Boring Skydiver

[rocketfeuille 0]

One of life's essential truths... Mom knows everything about where you've been and what you've done and where you hide stuff.

[rocketfeuille 0]

Quote

Actually, one of the lead biological weapons inspectors is a woman and a mother.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn/A55750-2002Dec14?language=printer

Has anyone else noticed how Quade and Billvon have an answer for everything?

[quade 4]

Nawww, that's not true at all.

Ask anyone that really knows me and you'll find out there are certain topics about which I know absolutely nothing.

On those topics, I usually try to remain silent.

quade -
The World's Most Boring Skydiver

[nacmacfeegle 0]

"And she'd lay some stripes across his bare bottom with that soup spoon, then march him home in front of the whole of Baghdad. "


Its against the Geneva convention to subject prisoners of war to public humiliation. But I'm sure even the most ardent human rights supporters amongst us would pay good money to see THAT on CNN.

Thanks for the comic interlude Bunkster.

--------------------

He who receives an idea from me, receives instruction himself without lessening mine; as he who lights his taper at mine, receives light without darkening me. Thomas Jefferson

[Rebecca 0]

That's some good stuff...

I was a good kid (as opposed to now, obviously), but whenever I stepped one tiny bit out of line, no matter how clever I was about it, I got busted. She ALWAYS knew when something was up. Is that, like, a superpower women acquire upon giving birth?

you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel loquacious?' -- well do you, punk?