Stuff Happens -- The Sequel?

OK, I just got back from the gym. There I was—climbing, climbing, climbing nowhere on the Stairmaster, vaguely tracking Wolf Blitzer in his ridiculous "Situation Room" on the silent screen before me. Unless my eyes were playing tricks or the typing-for-the-hearing-impaired person on CNN was rhapsodizing, it seems that Little George has decided to prove himself decisive with another military gesture. He knows no other way. He's like a little boy who makes himself feel strong by making really loud machine gun noises when he feels weak. Which is often.

Little George is proposing to put the Pentagon (someday we'll discuss that architecture) in charge of domestic natural disasters in the future.

That's his gambit. I can't even begin to grapple with the substance of such a proposal right now. Besides, who knows, this could go the way of that ludicrous Mission to Mars thing he launched a while back, remember that? Not exactly military, but it was an idea that also encouraged him to make really loud exploding noises in his imagination. That's why he went for it.

No, substance later. Right now I'm imagining the transcendentally masculine Donald Rumsfeld of Midge Decter's dreams admonishing some stricken US city, telling them to stop whining and complaining because—"stuff happens."

Hey, I've got a follow-up! Let's get J. Paul Bremer (I had his number as soon as I saw that "J.") out of retirement and put him in charge of FEMA! He could wear those cool combat boots again. Then we would have both the geniuses who supervised our occupation of Iraq protecting us at home as well. That will be comforting.