Let’s talk about you for a second. You, if you are reading this, are almost certainly a troubled young person. You have too much free time on your hands. You enjoy reading articles that make jokes about Twitter and articles about girls with nebulous emotional problems. This is not good. Sit up straight while I’m talking. For chrissake stop slouching. What you lack is a sense of purpose. And do you know what would give you a sense of purpose? War. That’s right, war.
Are you ready? Are you excited? Can you feel that nervous tingle in the air? Hey, let’s go to war! Give me your war cry! War cry, raaaaah! Okay, that was terrible. We’ll work on that later on.
Now, some of you are sitting up in your chairs and saying, “But Oliver, I think we’re already fighting two or three wars. And yet I don’t feel that sense of purpose that you mentioned. In fact, I feel no sense of purpose at all.” …Right; well, that’s a good point, you. But here’s the thing about that. The wars that we’re fighting now are all bad wars. You can tell that they’re bad wars because we’re fighting Arabs or something. Think of it in movie terms. If you make a movie and make the Arab guy your evil guy, then you’re a racist asshole, which is bad. Whereas if you make a movie and have, say, an English dude as your bad guy, then you’re just expressing a natural dislike for English people, which is, of course, fine.
So we’re agreed. From now on, we will only fight wars against European countries and/or Russia, which might be an Asian country or might not exist anymore, I can’t remember. Now, I’ve written the names of all the European countries on small scraps of paper — including Luxembourg and Andorra, bet you forgot that they were countries, didn’t you? I will now fold these scraps of paper up and put them in a hat. I will now shake that hat and select a piece of paper at random. Huh, I picked France. That always seems to happen. Okay, I’ll put the paper back and try again. Nope, still France.
Okay, so we are now at war with the nation of… France. Haven’t you always hated the nation of France? If not, aren’t you magically suddenly starting to hate that country? F–king French, am I right?
Consider the advantages. You’re sitting at home in your boxers/panties, picking your nose and reading this article, thinking something boring in the back of your head. Like, maybe you’re thinking that this season of Mad Men isn’t quite as good as the other seasons of Mad Men. Who the f–k cares? Honestly, you may as well be dead.
Then, suddenly a letter is pushed through your mail slot. Wow, who even writes letters anymore? You open it: DEAR SIR/MADAM, YOU HAVE BEEN DRAFTED FOR WAR AGAINST THE NATION OF FRANCE. MOBILIZATION BEGINS TODAY. PACK YOUR GEAR AND HEAD TO THE FRONT, OUR NATION DEPENDS ON YOU AND GOD BLESS. Signed, Barack Obama. Now there’s that sense of purpose, all of a sudden. Don’t you feel energized? This is great. You’re no longer thinking about Mad Men. Now you’re thinking stuff like, How much does a bayonet wound hurt? Should I flee to Canada? What color are our uniforms? Blue or gray and will that match my hair?
In fact, war has so may advantages that it’s important to list them all.
–Snappy uniforms. And H&M, Topshop, etc., are already stocking military jackets this season, so chances are that you’re already prepared for war.
–Guns. Do you have a gun? Would you like one? If so, then war might be just the thing for you.
–Good for rats and other assorted vermin.
–The perfect excuse to get out of work: “I’m sorry I can’t come in today, I have to go to war, maybe you heard.”
–Ditto for your ex-girlfriend: “Sorry that I missed your text about our relationship, I guess I was a little concerned about dysentery, TB, and the upcoming season of trench warfare. P.S.: France delenda est.”
–An entire generation of Twilight fans might be decimated by this new war. No more Team Jacob or Team Edward. Now they’re all on Team Dead.
–War sex, which is probably like break-up sex but more intense.
–None that I can think of.
So, avaunt! Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of… fighting and stuff. To France! War cry, raaah. Why, we’ll be eating baguettes off their corpses under the Eiffel Tower by Spring, or if not by Spring, then certainly by Summer. Unless you’re dead by then. Death might be the one minor “con” of war. If any of your friends are afraid of death and so don’t want to “sign up” for war, try this on them. Say, “Whaddya… a pussy?” to them over and over again in a very slow, firm voice. That should work.
Or, if France doesn’t float your boat, another possibility that I’ve been mulling over in my head is a second Civil War right here in America. Except this time, it’d be every State for him or herself, until we finally figure out which the best state is. Think about it. Except for people who live in Alabama and awful places like that, no one seems to have any “state pride” anymore. This new Civil War would fix that. Like, do you know what your state song is? Did you know that the state bird of Pennsylvania is the ruffled grouse? Or that the state beverage of Louisiana is milk? Of course you don’t! But you’ll certainly take more of an interest in these facts once you’re fighting for your life against the invading hordes of Maryland. And imagine the speeches:
“Brave men of Pennsylvania! By tonight, we will have driven the enemy off the blessed soil of the Keystone State and back into their accursed commonwealth. I cannot lie to you, men. Some of you will not live to see Harrisburg again. But the victors will live to see our flag — the one with Lady Liberty, two horseys, and some sheaves of grain or something — flying over the burning spires of Baltimore. So, to battle, my men! Theirs shall not be a ‘Merry Land’ for long! (Hearty laughter.)”
…Anyway, so that’s war. Pip pip, damn the Hun, it’s a long way to Tipperary, and all of that. War cry, raaah. I hope that you’re all very excited, and I’ll see you at the front. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get fitted for my Pennsylvania State Militia uniform, and practice stabbing and glowering menacingly in the mirror. …As you were, solider.