Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll declares: I AM DEFINITELY CIA MATERIAL. She writes:

I am taking a wee break from the travelogue, even though we have (in the beautiful poetry of Robert Frost) “miles to go before we sleep…in our own bed.” We will have much to discuss when I return to the topic. But for now…

By now we have all seen the mortifying ad for CIA recruitment or public relations or whatever it was about with the nice looking Blatherer of Tannish-Gold Color delivering a word salad on why she is “occupying her space” and NOT at all a fraud or imposter and a tremendous asset to The Company because of her great diverse diversity, which, by the way, had NOTHING — not a THING — to do with her being hired. She is super clear on that point.

She has major AWARDS – for Middle East expertise? For the ability to infiltrate MS-13 gangs? Oh heck, no. For – try to guess! – DIVERSITY!! Yes! You can get hired just for diversity and then get awarded for that very diversity! What a country. The ad virtually defies parody, but I like to do things in defiance, so here goes.

You have to be inspired by someone who lists her Generalized Anxiety Disorder as an ASSET — proudly putting the “panic” in Hispanic. And what would anyone want more in a spy than nervousness? It worked for Maxwell Smart. Seeing that ad, I feel emboldened to apply. Imagine a Dr. Ruth-sized elderly white woman bravely overcoming her plantar’s fasciitis clomping in high heels while speaking in Intersectional Gibberish at the camera. If I had a video like Dolores McDiversity, here’s what it would look like:

Hello, CIA. Well, here I am occupying my space, but frankly not much of it. I am a vertically challenged cisgender woman of pinkish-beige color. Like your poster girl, I also have Generalized Anxiety Disorder, although mine is so bad that it is in a category all on its own called Yucky Everlasting Godawful Anxiety Disorder Syndrome, or as it’s known in the nutjob trade: YE GADS.

I also have (and sadly, this is NOT a parody) Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Nothing could be more highly prized in a spy than someone who, in the middle of an op, in say, Afghanistan, would whisper urgently, “Could someone please tell me quickly where the nearest bathroom is? And will they have Charmin Ultra Soft, because that is the only toilet paper I like?” And then, on a bad day, say it again 20 minutes later. And so on. Big fun! But certainly diverse, though not all that diverse, because something like 50-70 MILLION Americans have IBS. Though we never have a convention which could draw more attention and support to our cause because no arena has enough bathrooms.

I might get this very high-paying job if the CIA needs to fill a slot of “nervous elderly short women.” I do fear that someone vastly more qualified might then try to make me feel like an “imposter,” so now I am claiming my place and occupying my space, which is why I often get mail addressed to “Occupant.”

I wish whoever taught me to speak in these idiotic phrases and nonsense words would take a long hike off a short pier. This was a knee-slapping joke insult that trended big in 1958, when I was 12. Even though it is illegal to discriminate against a person because of age, you may have been able to suss out that I am currently 74, bearing in mind that getting the so-called “right” answer in Math is racist. So you got your age diversity right there, too – a three-fer: old, short, AND anxious! “Woman” has been sooo done.

And what can a short 74-year-old female spy NOT do that your robust, young, muscular ex-Army Ranger male candidates can do? Besides run, jump, understand gadgets, Army crawl, carry and shoot automatic weaponry, read a map, use GPS, go without sleep for long periods of time, fight in hand-to-hand combat, and carry heavy equipment? Not a thing. Heck, I even like MARTINIS, though I’ve never heard Bond order a Cosmo or Apple-tini.

But, then, that sort of James Bondian spycraft is evidently so yesterday. Because, I now understand that the MAIN THREAT to America is not from Pusillanimous Putin or Communist China or a Nuclear Iran run by theocratic lunatics, but from the icky Domestic Terrorists who voted for Trump. The President slurred that aloud in one of his latest “Proof of Life” videos.

So it looks like the main contribution of a Diversenik such as myself would be to pretend to care about conservatives’ morale – to provide a little weekly platform to share hopes, dreams, experiences and memories of an America that was free and fun. To provide snappy one-liners to pass on. To encourage and buck up and amuse the little family of visitors to that platform. And then when I have them all relaxed, to take a huge amount of money to betray them and snag a coveted spot on CNN, or, please, God, The View. Oh, to learn even HALF their wit by sitting at the feet of those half-wits and learning from the masters!*

This, dear CIA, is what I could bring to the table. Think about it. Thank you. Please say “hey” to John Brennan, who looks nothing at all like the Spawn of Satan, I don’t care what everybody else says.

*Understanding and recognizing that the use of the word “master” is racist, sexist, imperialist, homophobic and transphobic, normally, I would be canceled, despite unseemly groveling, but as soon as I get this CIA gig, I will be immune from the misfortunes that might befall my unconnected inferiors. Thank God I don’t have a Master’s Degree! I barely have the Degree of Unmarried People of No Particular Sex.

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