Friday, March 10, 2006
Mickey Goes to War
I've known Mickey since birth, as our parents grew up together on the beaches of southern California smoking weed and fornicating. Mickey is a daredevil. If he isn't risking his life, he proclaims to be "bored" off his ass. I remember once at a nightclub where Mickey intentionally hit on a guys girlfriend just to start a fight with him. The bouncers threw him into the street. I tried to get him to just leave it and let me drive him home, but somehow he snuck back into the club and proceeded to do it again with the same result. On another occasion (or probably occasions), Mickey has been knocked unconscious and beat up outside of a bar without the faintest recollection of what happened.
Mickey is a natural born athlete. His senior year of highschool he made the varsity baseball team without having played organized baseball since little league. He led the team batting near .450, and had an arm like a cannon. In his army training he could run faster than half the other guys while carrying the standard over his head.
Mickey worked in a control room in Afghanistan, coordinating patrols. After a couple of years, he was finally sent to Iraq (I knew his time would come). He wouldn't tell me exactly what he's doing there when he IMed me from Qatar the other day (where he was getting some R&R). All he said was that the enemy was making more sophisticated plastic explosive devises that sent crap right through their armor.
Mickey and I talked about the war a couple of times and both agreed that Bush was full of shit. I feel bad mentioning that, since he has to endure whatever he's going through for at least another 6 months. Now Mickey is in Iraq fighting primarily to protect his friends and fellow soldiers, and to come back safely.
Mickey sent these pictures, and has sent me several unforgettable images of horror and human carnage from his other military adventures which are unbearable to witness.
Good luck Mick, and come back in once piece so we can go mountain biking up at Tiger Mountain like we planned on doing last summer. But don't think for a minute that I will stop at a bar with you afterwards.