I was at the gym yesterday morning (don't be impressed. I lasted fifteen minutes on the treadmill before my achilles' started hurting and I slumped away in defeat. Then Clay called while I was stretching, and I ended up crying right there on the floor because I'm ready to be done with hurting and p.s. parenting is hard), and two guys had an argument about Syria a few treadmills down from me. I got the feeling that one guy - let's call him Moron, shall we? - Moron was more invested in the argument than the other guy - Not Moron. He'd followed him into the room and kept talking at him, ignoring the obvious I'm done with this message of Not Moron climbing on a treadmill and punching at the buttons.
"And OBAMA isn't going to do anything," Moron repeated, "because he hasn't got the BALLS to respond like a man." I was not aware an executive order was issued by the testicles, but then again, what do I know, with my silly little vagina? Tee-hee.
"Hmm," said Not Moron, pressing buttons.
"If he was GOING to respond, he WOULD HAVE DONE IT, the very NEXT DAY, instead of sitting around, WHINING about it."
"I think he is doing something about it."
"You know what his problem is? He doesn't have the BALLS. I bet he's never been in a street fight."
At this Not Moron shifted to face him. "Seriously? You don't think President Obama has ever been in a street fight? REALLY?
"Well...not as an ADULT."
Can you imagine if this were actually the criteria we used for picking a president? "Forget his foreign policy - when's the last time he came after a grown man with a broken beer bottle? THINK ABOUT WHAT MATTERS HERE."
The situation in Syria is obviously complicated. I honestly cannot say what I think should happen over there (other than an unforeseen and overwhelming outbreak of compassion and humanity in the Assad regime, which...well. Not holding my breath).
But I can say this: I know THAT GUY is wrong.