Rangerettes

 

Boasting of thirty-two thousand men of valor, Gideon was tasked with whittling his army down to the few, the proud.  And the elimination process was more unconventional than rigorous, as the Almighty had an indelicate point to make and needed but three-hundred and some broken crockery; roughly the number of Rangers that assaulted Pointe du Hoc leading the way into Nazi occupied France.

Meanwhile – back up the coast, military geniuses washed thousands of untested, inexperienced draftees onto the beach just to watch ‘em die.

Diversity doesn’t make anything great, just diluted.  But the War Department’s EEOC obsession with political correctness and dippy slogans has only swelled the ranks with See the World sightseers, weekend warriors, and skinny CPAs.  Undeterred, those skilled warriors that remain face an even greater risk covering for the inadequate and incapable.

Everyone has a role in service to their country, and every duty is necessary in fulfillment of that service.  One job is not more important than another, just different… or diverse.  Men understand this, the diversity gaggle seek further sameness.

The selfish insistence of the silly to shoulder combat responsibilities is not born of a desire for what’s best for the nation or even themselves, but to corner men in an obscene dilemma: Remain true to their innate instincts or surrender manhood to a culture of gender non-specifics.  In either case, the perpetually offended endanger the lives of their male comrades and jeopardize the mission, which is not their mission: The end of men.

Gals and dolls understand they are better off letting their men wear the family fatigues; but the cranky see only camo’d crystalline ceilings in need of cracking, which is just an illusion.  The fractured glass is beneath their feet.