So ... what's the scoop (all emphasis added):
Taliban fighters stormed onto the doorstep of Afghanistan's second-largest city Monday, claiming control of villages, bombing small bridges, and scattering landmines to keep Canadian and international troops at bay...
... the concern was palpable Monday even inside the NATO security bubble.
Some employees of the international troops refused to leave their homes Monday out of concern for their safety and did not come into work. One Canadian soldier bluntly assessed the situation:
“Shit's hitting the fan,” he said. “They want to take the city. They want to make a statement.”
And now, let's hear from Blogging Tory "Neo Conservative," chillin' out, thousands of kilometres from the front and actual, you know, conflict. Yo, Neo ... what's your assessment?
Of course, what the Globe isn't saying here is... one... the scary invaders are a bunch of raggedy-ass guys with Ak-47s, strolling into an undefended clump of medieval mud-huts occupied by a bunch of unarmed but equally raggedy-ass subsistence farmers... two... that 500 man figure they're bandying about, is something somebody just pulled outta his ass, and... three... every time these donkeyheads actually stand and fight... they get their asses kicked from here to... literally... eternity... by Canadian troops.
So enough with the leftbot propaganda, please.
Just the facts, ma'am.
Neo would have been happy to continue explaining the logistics of kicking Taliban ass, but the burgers needed flipping, and those damned kids were running across his lawn again.
3 comments:
This reminds me of the raggedy-ass Viet Cong. I'm sure US troops lost a battle somewhere, some time against the raggedy-ass Viet Cong, but it didn't happen very often.
Anyone think there are any lessons here for Afghanistan?
The shame is that if we had finished off Osama when we had him cornered, none of this would be of any concern to anyone.
"Just the facts, ma'am."
years ago, we had a tv show that featured that same line. completely different meaning, though....
KEvron
My partner and I witnessed that little torchlight picnic you threw last night, we're gonna put you where your kind always ends up - in a seven by seven foot grey-green metal cage in the fifteenth floor of some hundred-year-old penitentiary, with damp, stinking walls and a wooden plank for a bed. Sure, this city isn't perfect, we need a smut-free life for all of our citizens; cleaner streets, better schools, and good hockey team. But the big difference between you and me, mister, is you made the promise, and I'm going to keep it.
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