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The last two weeks or so this blog has been too serious.  At least, that is what I’ve been told.  That probably has a lot to do with gearing up for Easter.  Which, by the way, we had a great Easter day at our wonderful church—so many great people to celebrate Jesus’ Resurrection with! 

But, now for something completely ridiculous.

Ever since the United States began bombing Libya I’ve been pondering this Gaddafi (or is it Ghadafi, or Khadaffi, or Qadaffi—does anybody really know how to spell his name?)  fellow.  The headlines yesterday were that NATO leaders were now calling for strikes to kill Gaddafi and not restrict themselves to military targets.  When I was a boy I remember this man caused problems back then.  I distinctly recall Ronald Reagan bombing him in the early ‘80s or am I wrong?  No, I’m not wrong.  Did we miss?  I mean, Marty McFly took care of the Libyans with a Delorean in 1985, right?

Is it true that his rank is colonel?  Colonel Gaddafi?  It is not general, or admiral or even field marshal?  Colonel?  That means Colonel Potter from MASH would be equal with Gaddafi?  Who would salute whom if Colonel Gaddafi, Colonel Potter and Colonel Sanders were in a room together?  Gaddafi is a dictator, Potter is a fictional character, and Sanders is dead.  However, Colonel Sanders could fry up some mean fried chicken.  I’ve got money on Sanders.  If those three were in a room together you know that Sanders would start frying up some chicken and those yummy biscuits and mashed potatoes from the by-gone days and Potter would start chomping a stogie and eat some chicken and then take a nap.  Gaddafi would be so charmed by the white suit, black tie, walking stick and white goatee that he would lower all his defenses.  Then he would trade away all of Libya to know what those 11 herbs and spices are in the original recipe. 

This is probably reason number 823 why I’m not president.  Instead of bombs I would try some KFC diplomacy.  If that didn’t work, we’d then try the navy—we’d send in Cap’n Crunch.  The Libyans might be able to resist Colonel Sanders down home goodness and old reruns of MASH, but I don’t think they can withstand the sugary fake breakfasty goodness of Cap’n Crunch.

Of course, this blog post is ridiculous, and I do not mean to make light of a very dangerous situation.  But doesn’t it seem like Gaddafi is like Charlie Sheen.  I just wish he would go away.

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