Russian Army Conscripts Asking, 'Where's Our Underwear?' | Opinion | Salt Lake City Weekly

Russian Army Conscripts Asking, 'Where's Our Underwear?' 

Smart Bomb: The completely unnecessary news analysis.

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Well, this is embarrassing, fresh Russian troops on the front lines in Ukraine—where it's damn cold—don't have long johns. "[Y]our fighters that you sent to us in the Stavropol region ... are practically naked," said a troop leader to military higher-ups in a video. It gives the draft a whole new meaning—it's absolutely chilling.

Reports reveal Russian troops scavenged deserted, war-town Ukrainian towns in search of socks and long underwear. Hey Wilson, have you ever had that dream where you go to school or work and around 10 o'clock you look down and notice you forgot to put your pants on? Imagine forgetting your pants in Ukraine in December.

As those grunts were freezing their butts off, they might have fantasized about Russia's female soldiers marching in Moscow's Victory Day Parade in Red Square. They're dubbed "Putin's miniskirt army" for their skimpy uniforms that show more than a little thigh. (We're not making this up.)

What a sight, leagues of young Russian women marching in unison in something akin to Broadway dancers—call them the Russian Rockettes. Their uniforms weren't designed for winter, either. Still, those Russian conscripts might not mind reinforcements from the miniskirt army. If you can't have long johns, then ... well, never mind.

Who the Hell is St. George?
Lately St. George, Utah, has made national headlines for such things as drag shows and drug trafficking. Not exactly the public relations campaign the Mormon majority had in mind. "Come to St. George, we've got Zion National Park, Snow Canyon, cool drag queen shows and good deals on meth and fentanyl."

People all over the country must be wondering, "Hey, the Mormons don't have saints, so who the hell is St. George?" Saints, of course, are a Catholic phenomenon—and Brigham Young wasn't no Catholic and he sure wasn't no saint, neither. Well OK, he was a Latter-day Saint, but it isn't the same.

And no Wilson, St. George is not in the book of Mormon. One thing is for sure—the Utah town wasn't named for the patron saint of Ethiopia, which has, perhaps, the oldest orthodox church in Christendom. Ethiopia also boasts a Belgian lager beer called—you guessed it—St. George. Sooner or later some Utah brewer will name a beer St. George. But we digress.

The town was settled in 1861 by Mormons as a place to grow cotton. It got the handle Dixie because it's so much like Mississippi—NOT. But why St. George? Brother George or Bishop George—that's understandable. But St. George?

At least we know who Murray, Utah, was named for: Bill Murray, of course. Everyone knows that.

Dems Dismantling the Tenets of God
Utah is just darn lucky to have Burgess Owens in Congress so he can be—as he so astutely put it—"a vocal warning beacon against the left's strategy to usurp our constitutionally granted free speech rights."

You see, Owens grew up in the deep South, where he witnessed the war waged upon the African-American community by those racists—the progressive left. Well, at least that's what he wrote in a guest opinion piece in the Deseret News.

"Seeing firsthand the destructive nature of the progressive left, I chose to stand recently as the only 'present' vote in the House in regard to the Respect for Marriage Act." The dastardly and ungodly legislation grants federal protection to same-sex and interracial couples. Earlier this month, Congress passed the bill and President Biden signed it into law. But Owens stood firm: with the "present" designation, he neither voted for it or against it, a brave move to blunt the left's stealth deception and tactic of "incremental success."

The protection of same-sex and interracial marriage, Owen said, is nothing but a tool to divide good people. The former football star and motivational speaker sure knows how to frame an argument through the looking glass. Or as Alice would say, "It would be so nice if something made sense for a change."

Postscript—That's going to do it for another sassy week here at Smart Bomb, where we keep track of artificial intelligence so you don't have to. No Wilson, we're not talking about Burgess Owens. The big news is ChatGPT, the artificial intelligence program that can carry on sophisticated conversations, create poetry on any subject and will answer questions on just about everything, even cryptocurrency.

Still, ChatGPT didn't know what to make of Trump's new digital trading cards that show him as a superhero, a cowboy and hunter, among other things. According to sources, when ChatGPT learned of the Trump NFTs (non-fungible tokens) it replied, "WTF."

Nonetheless, the 45,000 NFTs priced at $99 each sold out in 12 hours, netting $4.5 million and prompting ChatGPT to gasp, "No way."

Shifting gears: In the movie, "The Madness of King George," doctors study the king's chamber pot to draw conclusions from his stools, writes Washington Post columnist Alexandra Petri. "But then Elon Musk buys Twitter, and I can think of no better analogy for what has ensued."

No, Wilson, ChatGPT would not have retorted, "No shit." But it may have said something like, "Mr. Musk must have something up his you-know-what."

Well Wilson, it's a cold, cold world, especially if you're camped out in Ukraine without long johns. You'd think after all the winter wars the Russians have been through, they'd have this cold weather thing down. High-tech weapons but no high-tech underwear?

Maybe you and the band can gin up some kind of ode to the wonders of long underwear that we could send along to the Russian troops as a kind of psychological warfare:

I remember well when I was but a child of tender years
The day that I discovered the catalog from Sears
The people in the pictures they made me stop and stare
Who'd have guessed that they'd be dressed in thermal underwear?
Underwear! Long underwear!
It makes the foulest weather feel like fair!

It's ten below and icy winds blow whistling through the air
Let it storm, I'm toasty warm inside my underwear.
Prudence says to set our thermostats at sixty-five
In skimpy briefs and brassieres you will not survive
The Lord in all her wisdom gave us more than skin and hair
She gave us wit, ourselves to fit with thermal underwear.

Plutonium is perilous and coal pollutes the air
The energy source that's best, of course, is thermal underwear.
Lovers, if you think that taking off your clothes is nice
Do not miss the greater bliss of taking them off twice!
Underwear! Long underwear!
Slip inside and leave behind your cares
"A Modest Proposal (The Long Underwear song)"—Fred Small

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