Scalloped Potatoes

It’s good to be King. Or to think you are.

When you are King, anything can happen. Wars can dissolve like bone spurs can.

The whole Vietnam catastrophe — French involvement, Chinese influence, the death tolls, the North Vietnamese and Communist threat, and yes, our own misguided decade of it — deserves at least a timeline. Trump’s war of choice deserves a footnote. At least Vietnam had the decency to be a real war. This one was invented by a man who needed to feel like a war president.

After all, why did he insist on changing the name of the Department of Defense to the Department of War and put a Bottle of Gin in charge of it?

The Peace President. Who became the Peace President by destroying anything that could pose a threat. A war created against a country so they couldn’t have a nuclear weapon — a weapon they didn’t have. A capability Trump declared he had previously destroyed only months earlier.

Hmm.

But back to anything can happen. Somehow the Persians, the Iran War of choice, turned into scalloped potatoes. Yes, you read that right.

“Small potatoes.” That’s a quote. He said that. About Iran.

18 dead. Most of our missiles depleted. The Aircraft Carrier Abraham Lincoln — a bit rusty and overworked, her sailors thinking about swimming home, every last one of them dreaming of a nice warm plate of scalloped potatoes — reduced to small potatoes.

It’s good to be King.

Now go read that voters pamphlet. Over meatloaf if you like. Take your time with your ballot. Find a good polling station or ballot box if your state provides one.

Screw the USPS if you have the choice.