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An offbeat, offten imitated, off the wall, hell, sometimes off the floor, glimpse at the world of sports, as seen through the egocentric beer goggles of sports writer extraordinaire S. Lyle OConnor.
UNSPORTSMANLIKE COMMENT is a copyrighted feature of THE KAT AND MICK REPORT.  It is published on a more or less monthly basis.
Note; The comments of S. Lyle OConnor are not those of The Kat and Mick Report, Kat, Mick, anyone living in the Town of Oneida, or the Chicago Bears. Comments made by S. Lyle are strictly his own and should be taken with a grain of salt, or perhaps a pound of salt.
THE PACKER WAR ROOM
Since this is, more or less, a sports column, I better talk about some sports.  How about the Packer draft?  The Packer war room was on really on fire with all the wheeling and dealing executed by Sherman and his crew.  Speaking of war

What are we going to do with the Iraq situation?  Why is that area of the world always in turmoil?  And now it's like, they're not grateful to us for bombing their infrastructure, and occupying their country.  Geese, how about a little gratitude?  And I might add:  Iraq was in turmoil long before a half dozen misfits, who assuredly DO NOT represent the fine men and women in our armed forces, staged a sickening game of naked twister with those unfortunate inmates at Abu Ghraib prison.  So please don't come 'round looking for my editor, Mike Pickett, so you can lop his head off in a public display of outrage.   


So what the hell is the problem over there???   Well, once again S. Lyle OConnor has the answers.  As I see it, it breaks down to 2 issues.



#1)  Hey, Abdul, aren't you stinking hot under all those rags?  

Good morning Abdul, it's another sweltering day in the desert.  Let's get dressed and get back to the tiresome work of hating the American Satan pigs.  This looks clean (enough), so just bundle up in these multiple layers of flowing wool garments.  As for your head, it's estimated that 80 percent of a person's body heat is lost thru the head.  So, we better wrap her up nice and tight with a large beach towel.  And here's your beautiful wife, Lubabah.  We better get her into something uncomfortable.  We'll just zip her up in a hermetically sealed burka. -- What's that supposed to do?  Keep her fresh?  Like a tuna salad sandwich in a zip lock bag?  No wonder the Iraqi men are so angry all the time.

It's time for a change of wardrobe.  Summer dresses for the ladies, shorts and sleeveless tees for the men.  If you insist on having a lid over your noggin, I'd recommend a light, well-ventilated baseball cap.  NOT a three-pound bundle of rags!  Try it and see if you don't feel a little better about life.  Don't worry about Allah; he's got bigger problems on his mind.  Like, for example, how you are planning to come to Oneida, Wisconsin and lop off my editor's head in a public display of outrage.  Allah will quickly forget your sins of unholy haberdashery.  If he even notices!       


#2)  It's NOT in the water

And that's a shame.  If I had my way, it would be in the water, namely something to get them folks to settle down and behave themselves.  They need to learn to blow stuff off, instead of blowing stuff up.  Hell, you can't take every perceived injustice to your grave, or more precisely your suicide bomb induced urn of ashes.  Take a Prozac, already.  Which brings about my point.  We don't need the Army over in Iraq; we need the Army Core of Engineers over there.  Specifically, they should be working on the water supply infrastructure.  The community wells should be phased out, they need a modern, centrally located water system.  Just like Bellevue needs.  You know what?  Perhaps they are just thirsty, or maybe their water tastes crappy.  (Like in Bellevue)  That can make people irritable.  (Like in Bellevue)  Perhaps it's as simple as that.  But I seriously doubt it! 

These people need something more then a good tasting glass of water.  The whole damn country needs to be put on meds.  They need to be medicated right out of their turban-encrusted minds.  And to all you folks of the Islamic persuasion, please don't take it personally.  It's not worth getting worked up into a tizzy, where you would, say become so enraged at the editor of this website, that you'd come to 3246 Faux drive in Oneida, Wisconsin with the plan of finding Mike Pickett, so you could lop his pointy little head off in a public display of outrage.  Relax; a lot of people need medication to cope with the harsh reality of today's world.  Hey, it's working for me, and it works for our American school kids! -- Just visit any school and observe the well-behaved crop of Ridalin addicts they are producing.  The best students EI Lilly and Pfizer can produce.  Yes-sir-ee! 

By now, it should be obvious why I advocate getting control of Iraq's water supply.  I'm talking about better living through chemistry!  Folks with far greater knowledge of psychiatric care would devise the exact formula, but off the top of my head; I'd recommend a robust blend of Valium, Prozac and Thorazine.  The three most popular "antis" -- anti-anxiety, antidepressant and anti-psychotic, in that order.  Equal parts; at a concentration right around 3,000 ppm pumped straight into the water supply.  Then, I'd polished the mix off with a generous dollop of lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) as a flavor enhancer (and imagination enhancer).  In a patriotic gesture and at my expense, I have made my team of brain care specialists available to the brass at the Pentagon.  My men and women are experts in the field of psychotropic drug therapy, and they can give valuable insight into the workings, and the medication of, the troubled brain.  They can assist the government in tweaking the recipe for the Iraqi water "treatment" program.  But, you know what?  I'll bet they'll discover that I'm pretty close
After the water has been treated, you should see subtle but real results in about 2 weeks.  Suicide bombings, insurgent attacks, and general mayhem should all be reduced.  In general, our soldiers should encounter a happier, less sullen and perkier insurgent rebel.  The type that will greet an American soldier with a hello, or a head nod, -- instead of with a live grenade.  Perhaps, even a piece sign, who knows?  It will take about six to eight weeks for the major changes to manifest themselves.  By then the entire indigenous population will have therapeutic levels in their blood.  Terrorist attacks will have all but stopped.  For if you think about it, a properly medicated and chemically balanced brain will more often than not, balk at the idea of strapping a bomb to its organic counterparts.  I'm sure there will still be a few problems, but expect them to be a lot less radical.  "Hey, I got these firecrackers and smoke bombs, and I'll light 'em up unless" 
-- A kinder, gentler terrorist, if you will.

Once the cycle of violence is stopped, the country can start to become a happy and productive place.  The Iraqi people, now dressed in cool and stylish summer clothing, will occupy themselves with concerts, carnivals and parades instead of stewing about in heavy wool clothing, cursing the great American Satan.  Few, if any, will still have the desire to travel to America and lop my editor's head off in a public display of outrage.  Schools, museums and parks will stand where mass graves once lay.  The people and government will flourish.  The only American involvement needed would be a few dozen water treatment operators dispersed across the country.  With a little luck, Iraq could actually become a tourist destination.  Customer to travel agent:  "I don't know why, but I always feel so good when I'm over there -- must be the dry climate"

New statues of humanitarian leaders will be erected to replace the old monuments of Sadam and his warmongers.  Like, Timothy Leary, David Lettermen or maybe Cheech and Chong.  Perhaps even a statue of the oh-so-charming PFC Lynndie England.  I'd imagine, by then she would be getting the thumbs up -- rather then giving it.  And if the knuckleheads in Washington give me due credit for this plan, you'll be seeing more then a few statues of me, S. Lyle OConnor, sports writer extraordinaire, popping up across the countryside, I'll just bet ya.