The One Where I Talk About WWII Tanks, Red Dawn, Wealth Management and Steve Martin

“Well I’m gonna go then.  And I don’t need any of this.  I don’t need this stuff, and I don’t need you. I don’t need anything except this.  And that’s it and that’s the only thing I need, is this.  I don’t need this or this.  Just this ashtray.  And this paddle game, the ashtray and the paddle game and that’s all I need.  And this remote control.  The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that’s all I need.  And these matches.  The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control and the paddle ball.  And this lamp.  The ashtray, this paddle game and the remote control and the lamp and that’s all I need.  And that’s all I need too.  I don’t need one other thing, not one – I need this.  The paddle game, and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches, for sure.  And this.  And that’s all I need.  The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, this magazine and the chair.” – The Jerk

On film, first movie.  No pants.  Which explains the blackmail letters I keep seeing.   

There’s a common scene in movies where the hero, a has-been, out of shape bum in need of a shave and smelling like convenience-store cheese, cheap booze and a Kardashian who hasn’t showered in weeks wakes up.  The surroundings are a mess.  Generally, the place is a fleabag motel – one that doesn’t cater to respectable people, like those fancy folks that use actual hamburger in their Hamburger Helper©.

Our hero is always a guy, never a gal.

Generally, what happened to our hero to have dropped to such a low point is that he lost something, generally a woman, though sometimes a child, but always of great meaning.  It’s generally his fault.  And with the loss of that loved one, he lost the reason to care.  Everything is going wrong with his life.  To quote one of the best movies since Rome fell to the robot legions of Abraham Lincoln in 1932, Baseketball:

We should make the Losers wear Loser t-shirts after the Super Bowl®.  Why?  Branding.

Our hero, Joe Cooper, being interviewed after losing the national championship in his sport (due to his error) and when he goofed up trying to save the life of his friend:

“Today I lost the game and a dear friend and . . . I’m feeling pretty vulnerable right now.  I don’t think I should be by myself.  I need someone to talk to . . . .”

The announcer turns away from Joe and faces the camera:

“It certainly looks like it’s raining s**t on Joe Cooper.  Back to you.”

It’s at this low point that something happens to remind the hero of who he was, and what he stood for.  The hero then looks himself in the mirror and decides that from today onward, life is going to change and he’ll start using that topical cream, every day, just like the label says.

One montage later?  Instead of drinking a six-pack, the hero now has six-pack abs, gleaming teeth, and a mane of hair that would make a sorority swoon.  Assuming women still swoon in the current year, or that sororities are comprised of women.  Or that women are anything more than a social construct.

I’ll attend my mandatory sensitivity training next week, but even in 2019, BOYS CANNOT GET PREGGERS.  Anything pregnant with that must facial hair must be a Kardashian.  I promise – no more Kardashian jokes this month.

The big difference is that there is something that makes an emotional impact on the hero, which brings him back from his fallen state.  This something changes him, gives him a reason to live, makes him care.  It also connects that hero to the audience, allowing the audience to share in the struggle and, through that sharing, care about the hero and vicariously share his inevitable come-from-behind victory.

Who could have seen that coming?

It’s the theme of most of my favorite movies.  Unfortunately, it’s also the theme of our recent history in the United States, but we’ve yet to see the redemption part.

There was a time when the Right cared about the debt and actually talked, unironically, about balanced budgets.  I recall the constant drumbeat during my youth that “government can’t spend too much” because we would default, interest rates would skyrocket, and the Evil Wizard Jimmy Carter would keep cutting our money in half through his magic +2 Inflation Spell.  At some point, probably before I was born, I think Democrats and Republicans both agreed on that we couldn’t spend money like Joe Biden in a hair-plug factory.

Later, probably in a Nixon-related rant, the post-war truce between Right and Left split.  Democrats decided they couldn’t spend enough on social programs, and Republicans decided they couldn’t spend enough on military stuff.

Yes, I’m going to Leftist Hell.  Aisle seat, please.

I’ll argue that we got a better deal with the military stuff, which resulted in Russia replacing the U.S.S.R.  Russia on it’s surliest (feeling bloated and all) day isn’t ready to unleash nuclear Armageddon on Earth because Karl Marx convinced a bunch of barely literate people in the midst of a vodka-binge that killing the Czar was a cool idea.  Sure, Russia is a state that barely visits this fine blog.  And some of the freedoms might be lacking, like freedom of speech.  But Russia has nothing fundamental against our way of life – they’d love to emulate it, but with 100% fewer hipsters.  In my opinion, very penny spent on the military from 1948 to 1992 was worth it.  I don’t miss the constant threat of nuclear annihilation.

Sadly, all we got from the Leftist social programs that were set up to eliminate poverty was more poverty.  It would have been cheaper to just give everyone in poverty a million dollars back in 1965 when Johnson declared the War on Poverty©.  At least then we’d be done with feeling guilty about it.  “You’re poor?  Sorry.  Paid that bill.  Shoo.”  The best way (really) to eliminate poverty is to increase consequences and allow lower taxation on rewards.  Make it so Playbox® and X-Station© don’t replace working for food.

Eliminating unlimited pools of foreign labor couldn’t hurt, either.  But that’s another post.

Not my original, but it illustrates the point well.

Not to say that military spending hasn’t been silly from time to time.  I’m absolutely certain that we have the finest equipment ready to turn back the Wehrmacht if Hitler’s ghost ever assumes control and decides he wants to invade San Diego.  I guess I’m saying that our military, from a strategic standpoint, might be ready for those new bands, the Beatles© and Elvis™.

Why did we spend so much on the military?  The norm throughout history in every nation in every war was to provide soldiers with the absolute minimum that they needed to get the job done.  Kipling wrote about this a century ago in the poem Tommy, which has nothing at all to do with pinball:

You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all . . .

It’s nearly certain the same from the time the Roman legions marched on Carthage (Roman Virtues and Western Civilization, Complete with Monty Python) to the today, every soldier has been given only was absolutely necessary, and that was mostly grudgingly provided.  “Really, armor on your vehicles?  What, do you think we’re made of money?  Rub some dirt on it, you big babies.”

So where does all the military money go?  Well, there was once a joke that the armed forces had developed an absolutely invincible weapon system:  it had parts manufactured in every single congressional district.  That’s where the money goes.  Into the pockets of likely voters.

People used to argue about government spending and how we could reduce it.  In public!  Now it’s different.  No one cares about spending or debt at all.  Social spending?  Why not have Medicare™ for all?  Pay for everyone’s student loans.  While we do that, let’s also build huge floating targets aircraft carriers, the likes that the Japanese Soviets ISIS our future foes will fear.  But, please, let’s not talk about Chinese missiles taking one to the bottom of the sea.  Why, do you know where the components of an aircraft carrier are made?  Why, everywhere from the Redwood Forests, to the New York Islands!  This carrier was built for you and me.

Social programs are a vote-harvesting program.  And so is the manufacture of aircraft carriers.  But, again, should World War II break out again, we are so totally ready to win it.  We’ve even modeled our procurement strategy after the Germans (remember, they lost) – small numbers of really technically advanced components.  6,000 Panthers (German) will beat 49,000 Sherman (American) and 64,000 T-34 (Russian) tanks any time, right?

Oops.

Guess not.

(Translation for the tank impaired:  Germany produced, without question, the highest quality of tanks during World War II.  But they didn’t have many of them.  When the United States and the Soviets started making tanks, they massively outnumbered the technically superior German tanks.  It’s like being nibbled to death by ducks.  They might be small, but they will get you.  I half imagine the Air Force© would like to produce just one perfect fighter plane.  Just one at the cost of a trillion dollars.  But it would be so perfect, and never mind that the enemy produced 150,000 fighters at two million dollars each.)

The point, however, isn’t about tank production strategy, even though you can buy a working – with functional gun! – T-34 for about $80,000.  No, the point is about the indisputable fact that no one in Washington cares even a little bit about how much money we spend every year, or if the troops live or die, or if anyone ever stops being poor.  And why should they?  It appears that right now we can spend as much as we want, consequence free.  That’s bound to continue forever? And how would I explain to The Mrs. that she needs to brush up on her college Russian for the manuals for the T-34 I just bought?

Do you think The Mrs. might buy the argument that I bought a Russian tank because of my principles?  Do you think James at the Bison Prepper (LINK) might think I was frugal because, really, what could be more prepper than a tank?  And, for the record, it’s not a new tank.  Totally used.  No FLIR or anything.

I suppose I could use it for hunting?

I’m not sure what broke us as a nation, what make us that slovenly, unkempt guy with a three-day growth of beard smelling of cheap gin, Johnny Depp, and just as sticky as a movie theater floor.  But just like Steven Segal’s® belly, we as a nation seem to have lost our discipline.  Honestly, I’m tempted to buy that T-34 just so I can imitate our government and waste the money, though, honestly, nobody’s making T-34’s anymore.  I’d really love to buy a Panther, but there are only 29 (as far as the Internet knows) of them still in existence.

Hmm.

There is a bright side to this:  the Federal Reserve© has discovered it can print money forever, and can guarantee that you will receive your promised Social Security benefits.  The Federal Reserve™ won’t, however, guarantee that you’ll be able to buy a single piece of PEZ™ with your monthly check let alone a Panther or a T-34.

The future will bring bailouts.  Why?  Spending.  Duh.

The funny thing is that this will really be a stable system.  Until it’s not.

Will that be the moment that makes the hero recognize who he is, and what he’s given up?  And, most importantly, will he have a tank?

T-34 pic from:  Antonov14 [CC BY-SA 2.5 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)]