No videos in this post, no clever text. I simply must offer up the hypothesis to the Transbuddhist community that Tom Brokaw has a most unhealthy love for World War II and its veterans. I open it up to the group for discussion.. you can read the full article if you want, but I guarantee you it’s just drunken rambling and will be a waste of your time, much like Tom Brokaw.
Was watching the Olympics tonight when they broke away from their coverage to have one of their touching stories – this time about a 1944 Olympics held in a Nazi p.o.w. camp by Polish soldiers. Cue the music from Band of Brothers (I shit you not). And who was our storyteller? Yep, Tom Brokaw. I was to endure yet another 10 minutes of Tom Brokaw crooning out in his slow drawl how much The Greatest Generation kicked ass over my generation. And they did – I grant that. I’ve never stormed a Nazi machine gun nest. Don’t rub it in my face, Tom.
I have the deepest respect and awe for the events of World War II and the heroism of that age. I think everyone does. I have never heard anyone ever say, “Those guys that stormed Normandy were a bunch of pussies”. I don’t think they ever will. Even today, if I saw a group of 95 year-old WWII vets getting ready to square off in a bar against a bunch of young, hardened bikers, I would put my money on the fucking vets, man!
And I would lose that bet. Let’s be real. But, I think you get my point. The world owes a debt of gratitude to these people for the evil they averted. And before Alpha beats me to the punch with jabs at my heritage, yes, I’m pretty much pure Kraut, so my particular survival didn’t really count on the outcome of the war. But, I love “exotic” (read, “non-Caucasian”) women. Love them. And Hitler was trying to take that away from me. Hell, our beloved Davion isn’t white (although he sure dances like he is). And Davion is working feverishly to hook me up with his beautiful, knockout cousin (right, Davion??). I love our vets.
But christ, Tom, give it a fucking rest already. Professing your admiration for WWII vets is like professing admiration for babies. (Do your best Tom Brokaw voice as you read this): “Let’s take a moment to pay respect to babies. They’re cute, they’re much easier to carry around than adults, they perpetuate the human race. Aren’t babies great?” Yes, Tom. Babies are great.
As I heard Tom’s no-longer-moving words about yet another WWII amazing story, I suddenly realized that I felt exactly the same as I did at the end of Lord of the Rings III (whatever that movie was called) when Frodo and Sam are about to make out. I know you know what I’m talking about! The way they looked at and spoke to each other, looking deep into one another’s little hobbit eyes, I coulda just sworn that I was about to witness some gay hobbit porn. Which would make an AWESOME college indie band name – “Please welcome to the stage… Gay Hobbit Porn!!” I take that back. It would make a great album name, but not a band name.
But I digress.
Tom, you are the Frodo to the WWII vets’ Sam. You’re making me uncomfortable. Stop it.