2008 Woodie Awards
THE COLLEGE CURMUDGEON
The joy of Iraq: sun, sand and bombs
Seth Nidever
Issue date: 5/7/04 Section: Offbeat
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I still can't believe my eyes.
In the last few editions, The Rip has run a gigantic National Guard ad that makes the sleaziest used car sales pitch sound like the Sermon on the Mount.
If you took even a second to flip through the paper, you know which one I'm talking about.
Snake oil merchants, Internet scammers, fleecers of America, it's time to find a new line of work. You've been outclassed. There's a bigger, badder shyster on the block, and his name is Uncle Sam.
It begins with the MTV-esque slogan "Freedom Rocks" - which, aside from the fact that it doesn't make much sense, isn't a bad statement if you take it to mean that living in America is better than, say, living in North Korea.
After that, though, the ad sheds reality faster than Michael Jackson changes his face.
Take the people in the ad - the shiny happy people in the ad. Beneath the "Freedom Rocks" headline, six Atkins-thin twentysomethings in mall beach wear cavort on the sand, permagrins plastered on their faces.
They seem to be elated about something. I wonder if it's because they're bound for Iraq. I can understand the feeling. I'd probably be partying too, with strong mind-altering substances and even fewer clothes, if I was being sent to that Vietnam-like quagmire.
But no, these disciplined freedom fighters are overjoyed at the chance to go. That's right, this is no jaded bunch of hedonists.
These idealists are partying on principle.
Dude, it's just like the ad says: freedom is sacred.
Take note, Iraqis. When you are free, you too will be able to afford the clothing, personal trainers and self-esteem therapy it takes to look and act like these folks. Money will be rolling in. Heck, you can live like Uday and Qusay, the two sons of Saddam whose partying made the wildest American orgies seem like episodes of Mr. Rogers.
That is, until we bumped them off. Apparently, their crime was that, like Enron CEOs, they tried to hoard all the goodies.
In the last few editions, The Rip has run a gigantic National Guard ad that makes the sleaziest used car sales pitch sound like the Sermon on the Mount.
If you took even a second to flip through the paper, you know which one I'm talking about.
Snake oil merchants, Internet scammers, fleecers of America, it's time to find a new line of work. You've been outclassed. There's a bigger, badder shyster on the block, and his name is Uncle Sam.
It begins with the MTV-esque slogan "Freedom Rocks" - which, aside from the fact that it doesn't make much sense, isn't a bad statement if you take it to mean that living in America is better than, say, living in North Korea.
After that, though, the ad sheds reality faster than Michael Jackson changes his face.
Take the people in the ad - the shiny happy people in the ad. Beneath the "Freedom Rocks" headline, six Atkins-thin twentysomethings in mall beach wear cavort on the sand, permagrins plastered on their faces.
They seem to be elated about something. I wonder if it's because they're bound for Iraq. I can understand the feeling. I'd probably be partying too, with strong mind-altering substances and even fewer clothes, if I was being sent to that Vietnam-like quagmire.
But no, these disciplined freedom fighters are overjoyed at the chance to go. That's right, this is no jaded bunch of hedonists.
These idealists are partying on principle.
Dude, it's just like the ad says: freedom is sacred.
Take note, Iraqis. When you are free, you too will be able to afford the clothing, personal trainers and self-esteem therapy it takes to look and act like these folks. Money will be rolling in. Heck, you can live like Uday and Qusay, the two sons of Saddam whose partying made the wildest American orgies seem like episodes of Mr. Rogers.
That is, until we bumped them off. Apparently, their crime was that, like Enron CEOs, they tried to hoard all the goodies.