Tag: tongue-in-cheek

From Clausewitz to Caracas: What Book Am I Reading Right Now?

Tina Marie (Ms. Cat)

What book are you reading right now?

I was supposed to be reading Clausewitz and the People’s War. Instead, I got completely derailed when I discovered Joseph Stalin’s opinion that Clausewitz was outdated—and promptly lost hours investigating that controversial claim.

Reading will have to wait for another day, as I’m too exhausted. My real focus right now is finishing the Venezuela article I started before this detour. I need to get it done fast; before the infamous Kegseth (whose ego needs $2B to stoke) orders the U.S. Military to launch a decapitation strike on the country.

So, while Clausewitz and the People’s War waits on the shelf, the focus is purely on Caracas. Wish me luck in beating Kegseth to the punch. Once that article is finally filed, maybe I’ll finally have the mental space to get back to my reading.

The Pentagon’s IPO for War: Now With 100% More Cowbell

Tina Marie (Ms. Cat)

The Pentagon’s acquisition system is being overhauled into a “Warfighting Acquisition System,” turbocharging weapons production, slashing bureaucracy, and empowering officials to deliver arms at “wartime speed.” Portfolio Acquisition Executives now wield sweeping authority, startups are courted like prom queens, and the defense industrial base is being rebranded as Silicon Valley with missiles.

So much for the “peace president”—Trump’s arsenal of freedom looks more like an IPO for war, where venture capital meets missile launchers and bureaucrats cosplay as battlefield commanders.

Forging the Arsenal of Freedom

Related:

FoRGED Act Documentation

Applebee’s: Drowning in Ranch and Regret

Tina Marie (Ms. Cat)
Sleep deprivation in a can. 🥱

I tried to order Battered Fish and Chips. They were out. Strike one.

So I pivoted to the Bacon Ranch Grilled Chicken Sandwich. A mistake. Apparently, Applebee’s missed the memo from the “Don’t Drown Your Food” PSA. The sandwich arrived swimming in Ranch—so much that the chicken breast was actively trying to escape the bun. I had to perform a rescue operation, extracting the slippery protein and eating it solo, like some sad, sauce-slicked survivor.

Strike two.

To round out the evening, I ordered a Sugar Free Red Bull. Because clearly, sleep deprivation needed a wingman. I haven’t had caffeine in years. Maybe I was chasing chaos. Maybe I wanted to see if those Red Bull Wings would lift me out of this culinary disappointment. Spoiler: they didn’t.

Strike three. I’m out.