Sometimes I find it difficult to believe I ever worked for General Petraeus. Like, when I saw this picture of him playing "whose hand is on top" like a frickin five year old with some random Mustafa.  Seriously, "Peaches," when's the last time you put a bullet in a terrorist's brain and watched his skull cap fly off a frickin cliff?  And then went to inspect that brain?  And then scooped some of those brains out of his cranial cavity and added them to your oatmeal?  Yeah I bet it's been a while.  And now it's come to this?

General Petraeus, dude, you need to do something with the finely tuned killing machine I bequeathed you over in The Stan.  Yeah, that country known as Afghanistan, and that I nicknamed after my very wiry-as-fuck self.  Eat some oat brains, man.  See the effect it has on your stools.  Perfect little cigar shaped brown villains, my friend, is the effect it will have.  Villains you can move out regularly each morning like a Prussian traffic cop sitting on top of a Krupps shelf commode.

My advice?  Avoid clowns.  Less grab ass.  More bullets in the brain. 

Rangers Lead the Way.

-- Stan