Gitmo 51: Duck!

“Billy O’Reilly just called you a terrorist sympathizer,” Monty said, with a grin. “And Rush Limbaugh agreed with him. That true? You feel sympathetic towards them, after they hit you with a frying pan, kidnapped you, then waterboarded you? You going to strap on a vest of C-4 and jihad me into pink mist?”

“Alleged frying pan; we never did find the whacking weapon,” I said, instinctively rubbing my forehead, where I was feeling some phantom pains. “And don’t tell me you’re dumb-ass enough to believe those blowhards. They’re bitching because they hate the entire idea of this place, because it came from a liberal idea. We could beat em all before every meal and twice on Sunday and they’d still accuse us of mollycoddling. To them it’s a political thing.”

“And for us it ain’t? We work for Uncle Sam, and sure he’s a kiddy-fiddler, with a coke habit, and more debt than most deadbeats, but he still sends us our checks. Everything we do is political.”

“No, everything we do gets politicized. The government cuts us a check because it’s a public service we provide. Just because there’s a public good here, doesn’t mean there’s anything approaching a public concern.”

“They’re building a shrine. A little Mecca here in our own backyard. A terrorist vacation spot.”

“In the middle of a US base? Seriously. It’d go over great if terrorists were retarded enough to come here to visit. It’d be that much easier to clap them in cuffs. Worst case scenario, free terrorist arrests. More likely scenario is that some apoplectic media types fulminate until they give themselves an aneurism, meanwhile normal people ignore the ‘controversy’ while the handful of people who actually live here feel just the tiniest bit better about themselves.”

“I’m telling you, boss, this is a world-class ballzooka about to go off in your face, and unless you want gigantic testicles in your mouth in front of a national audience, you might want to duck.”