Lately a number of my fellow serfs—who, by the way, do not even realize they are serfs—have questioned me about the wisdom and probability of our monarch—who they do not realize is our monarch—bombing Syria. Since I write, and read excessively, and am thought by my fellow wage-slaves and government owned entitlement bio-vectors to possess some kind of diabolical cunning, I am often questioned in times of perceived peril. The sad result is always that I upset my fellow lower-order humans with my troubling view of the world. So, not having any mercy on my readers either, I am here to afflict you with my opinion as well.

What exactly are my qualifications?

Other than a deep abiding cynicism my qualifications as a geopolitical strategist are limited to interviewing U.S. combat veterans [primarily combat infantrymen] and playing tabletop wargames! I am a war geek! As a wargamer I have a reputation for a vexing brand of oblique cunning. My math sucks but my patience and eye for terrain and politics is excellent. I have won the American Civil War twice in five goes as the Confederacy—killing that Yankee beast Grant in both instances!

I have also excelled, to the point of having an evil reputation, in a geopolitical game covering the Napoleonic Wars, titled Empires in Arms: a game that takes a year to play. Once I came in second out of seven playing Spain, which is something like an Eskimo coming in second to a Jamaican in the Olympic 100 meters.

That is it. I am no genius, but have earned the tabletop hatred and fear of lawyers, accountants, chemical engineers, and an actual rocket scientist, due to my diabolical grasp of human conflict. My method is to read a map, and predict goals and methods of achieving and denying said goals implied by the political divisions superimposed on the map.

If I were designing a geopolitical power struggle game to depict next year in military history, what would it look like?

The first step in our 2014 game design is deciding who matters and who does not. Who are the players?

Before we consider that we must get one thing straight, war is the sport of kings, and what you care about does not measure on that scale except as an adjustment to domestic production or troop morale. Just moving chits representing armies around a board makes you feel like a god. Imagine you were some scumbag politician from some shit city like Chicago, and just happened to be a more convincing liar than the other crooks who ran for King. Imagine if you were that punk, and suddenly found yourself in command of the greatest military machine of all time, a military with more combined destructive power than all previous and current militaries combined. How could you not begin thinking like a pagan god?

Hell, if I was sitting in the White House I’d leave my wife in charge of domestic policy and move into the pentagon—that is when I was not drinking and whoring with Delta Force and the SEALS!

‘Get that politician out of my command center! And who let those gawking peasants into my frat house. Get them out and bring in the Russian dancing girls that we stole from Chaney and Baker!’

‘Who are those twerps with the cameras asking stupid questions? Get someone to cut their brake cables and let’s head out to Camp David and let them follow at high speed. Then we can shoot gay baby seals with my new Barret fifty cal!’

Yes, LaFond as President! It would be a blast.

1. U.S. needs to earn 1000 mass delusion points to win

2. The international bankers and military contractors are represented by one player and need to scale exponential profits to win

3. Russia wins if they can operate a successful fast food chain in the Middle East, or if they manage to import one western journalist or dissident for every 1,000 sex-slaves they export.

4. China wins if they increase their GNP and introduce at least one nuclear naval asset.

5. Militant Islam wins if every other player fails to meet their victory conditions.

That is it. Everybody else is just a client state, a hand puppet for one of the major players. Germany, France, Japan, etc., are not even players.

Okay, so why is the U.S. going to invade Syria [most probably in 2014]?

Oh, that’s right, you were not told that that was the goal. Well it’s not really the goal, but a stepping stone.

The ultimate U.S. goal in the Middle East since the Shah of Iran was deposed was the conquest of Iran, by U.S troops or preferably an Arabic client. Since our Iraqi client turned out to be a rabid dog that had to be put down, we will have to send in our own assets. Iraq is a poor invasion platform due to its low elevation, and Afghanistan is so hard to resupply that it is a second front at best. Another huge dilemma is turning Iran into a parking lot without land-based air. Going after Iran with nothing but global and carrier borne air assets is a mistake. We need some good old-fashioned air fields in the theater.

Oppressive Syrian regime to the rescue!

Now that Frankenstein [the New England politician who is married to the rich broad] has convinced the American public that we might have to save millions of Syrians from gas attacks by bombing them into the Stone Age we are good to go. In fact, since we had the forethought to arm up our Islamist Terrorist buddies and they are well on their way to wiping out the Kurds in Northeastern Syria, we should have no problem finding housing for our military contractors. You see, Syria is just an airfield.

Syrian Kurdistan will give us the land-based air we need to turn Iran into a parking lot and prevent the damned Rooskies from setting up their chain of Vodka-Kabob carry outs.

The Chinese can be kept busy with a new smart phone.

The bankers and the contractors need us, and won’t let us fall below second place, so have them inflate the Chinese currency in return for some consideration.

And really, the Islamists, if their collection of Kurdish baby heads is not enough to satisfy them, let them take out a winter baseball stadium in Florida with a bunch of old New Yorkers in attendance, and we’ll be able to use that to ratchet up the internal security and milk the serfs for some more cyber assets.

‘Oh yeah, one more thing, fly Slick Willie in on the next plane. We’ve got that Lithuanian chick that Jumped out of Putin’s last Man Day cake. Tell his old lady I’m sending him to Mali on a humanitarian mission and let the dogs loose! Remember, helmet cams on all the top shooters’ and aces, wired directly into my flat screen—and, and whatever beer they drink in Turkey; get us a keg so it feels more like ringside…’