Where's my Purple Heart?

I had a wound over my eyebrow which required six stitches while serving
in Viet Nam and I didn't get a purple heart.

I think the fact that Kerry's PH was issued in spite of the fact that
his lesser wound resulted from misemployment of his own weapon indicates
that I should have received the PH as well, even though my injury
resulted from the misapplication of a squash racquet. After all, we were
always in the presence of the enemy, even off duty.

While enjoying a respite from FACing around the country side in my
government supplied aerospace vehicle (720 total cubic thundering inches
of red-blooded American piston-pumping, fuel-injected power), I had
intended to follow the squash game with a pleasant swim in the South
China Sea from the sparkling white sand beaches of Cam Ranh Bay.
However, I was so fatigued and disoriented by my ordeal that I was
forced to retreat to the hooch bar for a liberal application of the old
home remedy.

But then I never had any political ambitions. Hell, with the right spin
I probably could have turned all that into a BS (Bronze Star) and maybe
even a two-year tour as a Congressman. Jeez, just think of all those
sweet ingenues -- I mean interns -- that I never had a chance at.

Oh well, life just ain't fair.


Jack