LET'S HOPE THEY'RE NOT OF THE CHEESE-EATING SURRENDER VARIETY...

Meet the newest members of the Coalition of the Willing(tm): Monkeys.

Morocco offers US monkeys to detonate mine

RABAT, D.C., Morocco, March 24 (UPI) -- A Moroccan publication accused the government Monday of providing unusual assistance to U.S. troops fighting in Iraq by offering them 2,000 monkeys trained in detonating land mines.

The weekly al-Usbu' al-Siyassi reported that Morocco offered the U.S. forces a large number of monkeys, some from Morocco's Atlas Mountains and others imported, to use them for detonating land mines planted by the Iraqis.

The publication quoted a highly-informed source as saying, "that is not a scientific illusion but a well-known military tactic."

You can tell people's attention spans have grown dangerously thin when wacky feature articles like this pop up within a week of the bombing. Next up on CNN: A profile of Flipper, the Navy's wacky dolphin pal. In one fell swoop, he'll sweep the harbor for mines and back-flip his way into your heart!

PR PATRIOTS

First they came for the French fries. Then they came for the French toast. But when they came for French's Mustard, it was time for Right-Thinking Americans everywhere to stand their ground. Or at least for a PR agency to earn its hefty retainer fee:

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Recently there has been some confusion as to the origin of French's mustard. For the record, French's would like to say, there is nothing more American than French's mustard.

Born in New York by the R. T. French company, French's Cream Salad Mustard made it's [sic] debut in 1904 at the St. Louis World's Fair along with it's [sic] side kick, the hot dog. Both were an instant success! By 1915 the French's pennant became the brand's official logo, symbolizing French's affiliation with baseball and American celebration.

Throughout the years consumers have professed their lifelong love of America's number one mustard. "For many Americans, French's mustard IS Americana. It's all about baseball, hot dogs, family and fun," says Elliot Penner, president of French's mustard.

The silliness goes on from there, including a mention that last year the company introduced a "new dispensing technology" (take that, Saddam!)

So it's time to rummage through your trash cans and pull out all those perfectly good bottles of mustard you threw away after watching Fox News for three days straight. But don't thank me. Thank Ellyn Small of the Bender Hammerling Group: Patriot. PR Pro. Defender of the Mustard. Mangler of the Possessive Pronoun.

SHOCK-N-AWE(tm)

In troubled times such as these, thank goodness for the inter web net screen machine. As war rages halfway around the world, it's allowing Right-Thinking Americans to thoughtfully debate in real time the ramifications of military action. Serious, impassioned debate that, during past wars, could only have served to torture roommates. Consider these messages, all posted within minutes of today's massive bombing campaign:

First confirmed explosions reported!

Lets hope this is the real thing and not just another teaser!

Yeah, those "teasers" have been a real drag. Kind of like seeing the trailers for the new Matrix movie and knowing we'll have to wait months to hear Keanu say "Whoa" again. Bummer.

Of course, war is often about tragedy. Consider this sad tale:

AAARRRRRRGGGGH!!!!!

I have been watching Fox almost non-stop (save for 20-30 minute 'naps') since Wednesday nite! I even took off work yesterday. So this morning I'm on my way into work, and Rush starts reporting that sirens going off in BaghDAD (thanks for the pronunciation, Shep)! I have THE WORST luck ever!

Worst luck ever, except maybe for the night janitor at the Baghdad Presidential Palace. Then there's this:

Too bad my cat passed away recently. She would give them Shock & Paw.

You go, Mr. Whiskers! Then there's my favorite, reprinted here verbatim:

ROCK & ROLL !

Good to see George Will weighing in.

Not that the actual media is doing much better, mind you. Last night, I was watching pixellated videophone images of tanks racing across the desert on CNN and listening in disbelief to the following on-air discussion between the anchor and his military analyst, one of a zillion of the gruff but lovable retired generals they pull out of mothballs for such affairs:

ANCHOR: General, can you imagine this technology? To be able to see this as it happens?

GENERAL: Well, I'm incredibly proud of our military right now. They're doing an incredible jo--

ANCHOR (interrupts): But this technology! Isn't it amazing! We're looking at tanks! In the desert! Live! On TV! EXCLUSIVELY! It's HISTORY IN THE MAKING!

Nice. That's like a WW2-era newspaper running headlines like this: LATEST GUADALCANAL MOVIETONE TO BE IN LIFELIKE TECHNICOLOR.

DEJA VU

When the bombs started falling in Gulf War I, I was heading back to my on-campus apartment with my roommate. Because a couple of our roommates had dropped out over the summer, these two guys we didn't know were assigned to take their places midway through the year. They were truly scary -- let's put it this way: I'd bet my present-day mortgage that both wound up becoming charter Maxim subscribers. Amazingly, they both had girlfriends, and remarkably well-adjusted ones, too, though every time they brought them over, they invariably wound up berating them about being stupid. Most of the time, though, they'd just scurry off to their room, close -- and lock -- the door, and then chuckle to each other as they set things on fire and listened to industrial rock. A few years later, when Beavis and Butthead first came on MTV, I did a double take-- these guys WERE Beavis and Butthead, only with 300 or so more SAT points to share between them.

Anyway. We were driving back from dinner and heard on the radio that the war had started. When we walked into the apartment, there were our roommates, sitting in front of the TV, drinking beer.

"You're just in time," the blond-haired, Beavis-like one said. "We're toasting the kicking of some towelheaded ass."

So last night, after watching the little 48-hour ultimatum countdown clock expire on MSNBC (pathetic in its own right -- I was joking that Dick Clark would host the final hour), we turned the TV off. An hour or so later, my old roommate called.

"You got a beer in your hand?" he asked.

And so the circle goes unbroken.

Oh, and those two roommates? Their names were Karl Rove and Ari Fleischer.

IF YOU LIKE PINA COLADAS....

The last time we visited the in-laws, I picked up a copy of the newspaper I used to work for and noticed they had added a personals section. But not just any personal section--after all, those ads you see in Washington's City Paper for BWJMFSers into, say, "gimp suits and light voter fraud" wouldn't exactly play in the hinterlands. Instead, they run their own, presumably more right-thinking personals geared specifically at Christians. What that means, I don't know. Maybe you have to wear sandals on the first date. It also apparently means you're dealing with a... um, selective pool of prospective mates. Selective like this:



Leaving the question of what exactly's involved with collecting wolves aside, you might wonder if someone with such... ah, unique tastes would ever find that special someone. Luckily, the photographic proof was on the very same page:



Wow. A cowboy wedding. And with three husbands, even! Wonder which one is the wolf collector.

SPONGY SYNERGY

This will only make sense to those of you who know my four-year-old, but this new product frightens me. Of course, I've brought home scarier toys before.

PS. New Get Your War On, once again.

OUR OWN LIL' TOM RIDGE

Over the past few days, my one-year-old daughter Sara has started playing this cute little game we call Homeland Security. She opens our kitchen pantry and, over the course of a half hour or so, takes out every canned item -- and only the canned items -- and stockpiles them on a toddler-sized chair in our den.

Preparedness can be so darned cute! I just don't have the heart to tell her the threat indicator's moved back to Mellow Yellow.