Now that the final “militia” member has surrendered after a 41-day standoff, I’d just like to ask why a bunch of white dudes taking over a federal building get to be referred to as a “militia,” but if three Muslims were to set up camp in a Sbarro, they’d have been referred to as “terrorists,” then tear gassed and hauled away exactly 41 days ago?
Politics aside, however, I am truly unclear with regard to how Ammon Bundy and his band of ammosexuals fit the definition of a militia anyway? Here’s how Webster defines “militia”:
militia
noun mi·li·tia \m?-‘li-sh?\
1 a : a part of the organized armed forces of a country liable to call only in emergency
b : a body of citizens organized for military service
2 : the whole body of able-bodied male citizens declared by law as being subject to call to military service
Perhaps we need a word to replace “militia” in the modern-day lexicon. Given that none of these numbskulls are ever liable to be called to our nation’s defense in an emergency—and if they are, Lord please let them be far, far away from me and my family—I think they ought to be defined slightly differently. How about…
asshat (per Urban Dictionary)
One who has their head up their ass. Thus wearing their ass as a hat. Asshat.
Works for me. I’ll see what I can work out with the good folks at Webster’s.
While this ridiculous standoff lasted for 41 days, I think it could’ve been ended much sooner had the authorities followed my simple 8-Point Plan for Quelling Ridiculous Rebellions By Armed Nitwits™:
- Seal off the area. No one in or out who isn’t a federal officer. That means no food or water goes to the dork slaps holed up there.
- Shut off the electricity. No heat. No TV. No recharging of the smartphones.
- Speaking of smartphones, we should have done one or both of the following: a) federal agents have cell carriers turn off data for all known, um, “militia members, ” and/or b) we use one of our awesome cell service jamming gizmos to disable all data to the area. We effectively cut them off from the world.
- Find a rock band who isn’t touring right now and we ask to borrow their stacks of speakers and amps. We surround the area with the sound equipment and blare Perry Como and Ethel Merman at ear-crushing volume, day and night.
- Use some of those specially equipped helicopters that are used for fighting forest fires and douse those twits repeatedly, and as often as it suits us.
- Tear gas. Lots of it. We make the area as smoky as a Pink Floyd concert…only minus the flying pigs and marching hammers.
- Air-drop hundreds of body bags on the property…you know, as a preview of coming attractions should the ranchers have used force as they indicated they were willing to do.
- Have federal agents set up large deep fryers so that they can deep fry all kinds of greasy goodness. They could then use industrial fans to blow the lovely smells of deep-frying onions, french fries, and chicken nuggets right into the area. Since we’re not allowing food or water in, that food is going to smell delicious. Federal agents could set up picnic tables around the perimeter of the property, and dine away. Or, we could set up a mobile Krispy Kreme donut store and use those industrial fans to flood the area with the smells of warm donuts.
Lastly, if these tactics hadn’t forced a resolution within 72-hours, then federal officers should have taken them into custody by force. They were breaking the law and they should have been treated as criminals. The local sheriff showing up during “the siege” to shake hands with Ammon and his band of merry dingbats is not my definition of law and order.
And to think, I am offering all of this brilliance for free. You get all this and more when you read Dances With Bass.
