Send My MOTHER!
Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection
teams who have
arrived 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 mother
can 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 offender's 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 damn summer.
Inspectors my ass... You want the job done? Call my
mother.
Eliminate distractions, focus on your goals and visualize what you hope to accomplish.
Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection
teams who have
arrived 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 mother
can 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 offender's 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 damn summer.
Inspectors my ass... You want the job done? Call my
mother.
Eliminate distractions, focus on your goals and visualize what you hope to accomplish.
