O Fame! Thou Bitch

I googled Have Yourself a Mercenary Christmas today, and a couple of pages popped up, whereas there were none at all when I first penned the thing. Could this be fame's first trickle?

Alas, no! The other uses, quite clearly, are picking up on the Blackwater scandal. Not my take on the carol at all.

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Last night, dragooned by Cap'n Queeg, I donned a monkey suit and attended a lawyers' do. Too noisy; too crowded; nowhere to sit; no one to talk to; no attractive women; indifferent cuisine; and no wine with dinner (at a yard-and-a-half per diner, if you please!). I ducked out before dessert, but that doesn't mean I didn't suffer the smug speechifyin' coming from the dais, for the organizers very cannily scheduled it before the food arrived. The bastards!

Now, you must excuse me. My child has just professed an ignorance of John Philip Sousa, and I must go administer the rod.