Editorials
Shoot, We Can't Pull Out
By Boxcar Pud Acuff, Part-time Columnist/ Full-time Country Crooner
Apr 7, 2007 - 10:32:33 AM

Boxcar Pud Acuff
Part-time Columnist/ Full-time Country Crooner

                     Shoot, We Can't Pull Out

Folks, I ain't a smart feller, but I reckon I can have an opinion.  Now, I ain't goin' to let on to y'all that I know a bunch 'bout the whole Middle East culture. Well, to be honest, I don't know a Shia from a Kurd, much less the differences between a Sunni and a Jew. But, I reckon that didn't stop our President, and I won't let it stop me either.

Shoot, them fellers over yonder in the Middle East ought to do the Christian thing and try to get along with one another. That would solve alot of problems if them 'Raqis would do thatc

I'm just a country crooner of sad songs, but even I know that you can't catch a fish with a naked woman at your side. No sir, 'cause if you are like me, you'll be tryin' to diddle that naked gal instead of fishin'!  Well, that's what we are a doin' in this war over yonder.  We've got our minds on other things than whippin' them fellers that wear them nasty towels on their heads. I know that sounds stupid to compare fishin' with a naked woman and this war over yonder in 'Raq , but that's just me and I'll tell y'all first hand that I know stupid !

Yeah, call me stupid but I'm a true-blue republican. And, being a republican I know that we've got to stand behind President Bush. Sure, some of you long haired smarty pants will say that President Bush's plan ain't workin'. Well, I reckon you can't get butter without sourin' some milk ! And, President Bush views the Middle East as sour milk lookin' for someone like him to churn the hell out of it.

My ex-wife, Pussy Willow, told me once, "Pud, you'll never know what it is like to be a woman."

"You are right, Pussy. I reckon my boobies would have to grow, and I reckon if they did grow I'd be a playin' with them all the time." I replied to her, as I pondered the thought of me being a woman with big ole' boobies - i.e. tits, jugs, melons, and/or knockers.

Well, me being a woman ain't what this here column is about. No, this here piece is 'bout us - the good ole U.S. of A. - a stayin' the course over yonder in 'Raq.

Shoot we just can't leave!  No, we can't do that at all. I reckon if we did just pull up stakes and get out of there, them 'Raqi fellers would follow us home. President Bush even said them fellers would follow us. Then them 'Raqi fellers would be gettin' our women - like my woman, Pussy - and they would diddle them, and fellers like me would be left a playin' with ourselves. It would be plum sad, 'cause all us 'American fellers would be masterbaitin' - i.e. ropin' your own calf -   and I reckon you can't reproduce that way.

Now, that I get to thinkin' 'bout it, I reckon if was a woman I'd want a man like Toby Keith, or Dick Cheney doin' me durin' that time of  diddlin'. Call me crazy, but if I was a woman I would kind of enjoy those two on top of me, or behind me while I was on all four barkin' like a lonely dog that ain't lonely anymore. Shoot, I ain't too prideful to admit that fact and I sure wouldn't want them to leave early - i.e. pull out before the job is done.

Back to 'Raq for a moment - I think that was what this here column was to be about - them fellers are nut jobs waitin' for someone to crack'em. True, it looks bad on our television sets - you know, all them blowed-up buildings and shit - but there is progress a goin' on there. Lordy, just the other day, Senator McCain took some republican fellers out shoppin'  there in Baghdad. Well, yeah, they had 100 U.S. soliders guardin' them, but I reckon they bought something.

Pussy, my ex-wife, she thinks that President Bush just needs to drop a few more bombs on them ragheads. Shoot, I don't know if that is right or not. I mean, shit-fire and call it the flame of hope!  I reckon, Pussy might have a point.

Speakin' of Pussy, I reckon if I was a woman I'd want someone like Fred Barnes a doin' me too. I mean, shit, old Fred can't be packin' too much "down there." Or, what 'bout old Karl Rove?  Shit, that bald headed bastard has to have a little rover, 'cause he seems mad all the time.

Here's a song I wrote - in 'bout 3 minutes time - 'bout the war:

                          Shoot, we can't just leave

 Some folks say that this war ain't right.
 I don't know, but we might as well fight.
 Some folks claim that we can't win in I-raq,
 kinda like not havin' nuts in your sack.

 Shoot, we can't just leave.
 Can't pack up and say our goodbyes.
 'Cause them 'Raqis will follow us back here,
  take our women and drink our beer.
  

 Some folks say that we should pull out of I-raq
 Just go on home and not look back.
 But, ain't that like diddlin' your sweetheart Sue
 pullin' out and spewin' your seeds on her belly?
 Ain't nothing left but a gob of goo.

 Shoot, we can't just leave.
 Can't pack up and say our goodbyes.
 'Cause them 'Raqis will follow us back here,
  take our women and drink our beer.

 We've got to stay and fight the good fight.
 Stay until the job is done.
 We've got to get this thing right.
 It's like diddlin' and not havin' fun.

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