Happy Memorial Day! It’s a little obligatory these days to “support our troops,” but honestly, I’m awed and humbled by the memory of all those who have fought and died in service to their country.
Still, the thought of eager young men dying in the meat grinder of perpetual geopolitical pissing contests seems like such a waste. Bright-eyed 18 year old studs convinced of their invincibility shouldn’t be dressed up in scratchy uniforms and propped up in front of approaching bullets. They should be stripped and thrown into full-contact match-ups in order to do what the young bucks of most mammals do: compete against one another to prove their virility.
Seriously, I think the first to the front lines in any war should be the policy makers that decide that we have no option but to take up arms. The people who vote to authorize force, perhaps in the sincere belief that we have no option, should be sincere enough to be first in line to face the consequences. This would mean, pretty much by definition, that our front lines would be populated by a crowd of mostly middle-aged, pot-bellied white guys. In turn, this would leave our strapping young, naive, hormone-charged hardbodies for the battle that they were hardwired to engage in: non-lethal tests of strength and domination in order to bear evidence of the size of their genitals, their likelihood to contribute good breeding stock, and their ability to defend hearth and home from predators.
Classic AMG images of just this story never fail to please me. AMG always told the tale of boys being boys, engaging in naked/nearly naked combat with one another. Two young bucks puff up their chests, their eyes roaming up and down their opponents assessing the scope of the challenge in front of them. They strip out of their clothes to free themselves for the full range of motion that they may need to secure victory. Both brash, bold, gorgeous young hunks circle one another, both battlers sincerely convinced that they will overcome their challenger and prove themselves stronger, fiercer, more clever and more determined. Before the first touch of skin-on-skin, in the fraction of the second before they collide, grasping and twisting, in that instant before the battle is actually consummated, they are primal: youthful males announcing their entry into adult mating rituals.
Some hair pulling, bodyscissoring, and humiliating grinding of face to crotch, and one man has proven his mettle, dominating his opponent until he submits in body and spirit. That’s the battle of the ages for which hard, blustering, invincible young studs should be reserved.
Sidelineland 
Well said!