The war at home - Front Yard Theater

I knew it would be a hard-fought battle, and lives could be lost but I did't run from the fight. That's what's important. I knew I'd win because, unlike the Bush administration, I furnish my army of one (me) with the necessary equipment to win the war.

That's right, today - Veterans Day - I decided to take the war to the front yard weeds rather then them invading more of my territory. Does that make the weeds the U.S. and me Iraq? Better not touch that one, I might get a knock on the door from dudes in black suits, white shirts, black ties and Ray Ban sunglasses.

An angry patch of crab grass claimed a section of my driveway about eight months ago. It became a giant green, twiney ball of hate, swallowing two railroad ties and threatened to advance on our house. It was going to lay siege to Wife and myself. I can see it from computer room's window safely inside the house and the war-monger grass was definitely preparing an offensive of some type. I'm not exacly sure what type of attack it was planning - maybe when Wife or I decided to get the mail, the grass would lasso our ankles and pull us to it's den deep under the railroad ties so the Grass King could
have it's way with us - but something was being hatched.

Dressed in combat gear - ripped shorts, old University of San Diego t-shirt, and tennis shoes not allowed inside the house - I armed myself with a hand shovel and work gloves. We battled for nearly an hour; me ripping away at endless tendrils of angry crab grass, and it sending out agents of army ants (I knew they were called army ants for a reason) and fire ants to the front lines. Realizing a ground assault would not help win the war I went to the air. Inside the war room - the kitchen - I asked Wife to calculate how much spermicide I needed to kill weeds. After she pointed out that I was using Spectracide (weed killer) not Spermicide (same thing if you ask me, they're both killers), we planned our air attack. Using a Windex bottle and 3 ozs. of weed killer the plan was to soak the weeds in some biological-agent and then sit back to watch the giant ball wither into frail strands of straw.

It's 2 hours later since this war-turning battle and I have yet to see results. The bottle says fast acting, but obviously that's a subjective term. If the angry ball of grass returns with a vengence sending it's armies of dandelions and clovers after me and Wife I may have to do the unthinkable - go nuclear. I'm not afraid to drop a bomb of lighter fluid and set the war-monger ball on fire, but I'm sure Wife won't authorize the use of nuclear weapons. Since the chiefs of staff number two (me and Wife) and she gets two votes, I'm sure getting that declaration to pass will be a longshot, no matter how much fillibustering I do.

Maybe I should ask Donal Rumsfeld if he wants to straegize this war. I hear he's looking for a job.