I like some of the comments at the original site.
“All we had to eat was our horses.”
“You had horses? All we had to eat was horse shoes.”
“Horseshoes were a delicacy for Sunday brunch. Usually, we ate dirt.”
“We could only dream about eating dirt. Most of the time we ate our own fingers. Then, we sold our gloves.”
If we can get hot chow to the troops, and we aren’t, then someone needs a boot up their ass. And I don’t care what their rank is.
You know, I can’t think of a single Democrat, private citizen or professional politician, who wouldn’t benefit mightily from a good ass kicking. I think they have too much space between their neurons. A swift kick in the behind, repeated as necessary, would close the distance between the neurons in a Democrat’s brain. And think about how good it would make you feel. Yep, I’m all for another national holiday.....NATIONAL KICK A DEMOCRAT IN HIS/HER ASS DAY. You could even develop special footwear. You could award prizes for distance flown and height achieved.
Ear-Bending Cellmate: ...and when there was no meat, we ate fowl and when there was no fowl, we ate crawdad and when there was no crawdad to be found, we ate sand.
H.I.: You ate what?
Ear-Bending Cellmate: We ate sand.
H.I.: You ate SAND?
Ear-Bending Cellmate: That's right!