Whoops! How Did Those Nukes Get There?

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Private Pyle! What is your major malfunction?! Did your mama not let you watch Sesame Street? Can’t you read?

Are your nuts so numb you did not realize you were affixing six cruise missiles armed with nuclear warheads to the wings of that B-52?

Now just lookee here, right next to where some red blooded American painted "Crispy Critters" it clearly says: "DANGER: THERMONUCLEAR DEVICE." Did you think that meant it was for crop dusting? Same goes for these other five: "Dead Eye Dick," "Ann Coulter Sends Her Love," "Peace On Earth," "Purity of Essence," and "Podhoretz’ Prophesy." They’re ALL nukes you Moe Ron!

Let me tell you, it just ain’t sportin’ to roll these babies out of the bunker and then strap u2018em onto the wings of a B-52 as a joke. You gotta get the go ahead from somebody higher up… like General Jack D. Ripper.

Amusing as all this is it’s one "whopper" of a mistake. You betcha. And that mistake was simple… somebody found out! No! No! No! This was all supposed to be on the down low. If you can’t keep your pie hole shut Private Pyle, we won’t let you in on anymore Top Secret Skullduggery.

What if one of these Nukes accidentally fell off over say… some Nebraska cornfield? Them puppies were slated for that loud-mouthed Ahmad… Amahad… uh… Ahmadinejad character in Tehran. The jig would be up. Poof. He’d have time to duck and cover.

Not only that now we can’t casually fly over Tehran and let u2018em rip. Awe pishaw… of course we still can. But I seriously doubt the Revolutionary Guard would expect a squadron of B-52s to be loaded with pallets of cash. You’ve gone and spoiled our big surprise party!

And to insert a corncob into the… uh… "brains" of the Military Intelligence Whiz Bangs and the sensationalist "press" opportunists, rumor is running rampant all over the Internet six Nukes were loaded onto the B-52 and only five were taken off! Some folks think one got stolen by oh I don’t know… The Noble Senator Tiberius Lieberman? The Man on the Wing? Dr. Evil so he can hold the world ransom for… one million dollars? Well anyway, the fear and conspiracy profiteers are all over the idea Nuke Number Six has fallen into the wrong hands. Balderdash.

Some wacko preeverts might actually say those nukes were never in the right hands to begin with. What a load of turd blossoms! Where the heckers do they think Nuke Numero Six is Private Pyle, inside your footlocker right next to that non-regulation jelly donut?

Don’t these conspiracy kooks know you are a product of a spiraling math program that goes far beyond the old fashioned and "quaint" New Math? You can’t count! What the hell did you do, count your thumb twice?

Dang Private Pyle how stupid can you be? That’s it no more loading nuclear armed cruise missiles on B-52s for you! You’re on KP! Oh wait… KP has now been outsourced to Halliburton contractors and private security mercenaries. Well that makes sense; the US can spend ten times the going rate on specialists to peel potatoes. And that frees you up Private Pyle for more important FUBARs.

However, your ass is still in the sling. Let’s see what would be a suitable punishment? I got it! Another holiday in Baghdad! You know seven is your lucky number. Maybe this time you’ll get killed and that will fix the obvious case of IED shock wave induced brain damage! Then we won’t have to pay for your rehab! But uh… him… where to plant the body of our noble war hero? The Prime Plot Bubble has burst you know.

Well… you’re a southern boy Private Pyle so… how about some choice Florida swamp land as a final restin’ place? Oh, don’t fret none about them gators. You won’t feel a thing as they divvy up the choice cuts of Pyle. Besides, you’ll be helping the environment. Back to nature I say!

But before we ship you off… again… we have a teenatchee little task for you. It’ll help set things straight.

Here’s what we want you to do. Take this here bucket of olive drab paint and these stencils. Go out to all those cruise missiles and paint over the words: "Danger: Thermonuclear Device." When that’s done, take this white paint and stencil: "PROZAC" on all of them. That’ll fool those pesky busy bodies!

Tom Chartier [send him mail] played lead guitar in legendary Los Angeles punk band The Rotters for 26 years until their final appearance in January of 2004. He has lived in Tokyo and Los Angeles. Currently he resides somewhere in the Caribbean.

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