How to fight the Taliban:

Take all American women who are within five years of
menopause.

Train us for a few weeks, outfit us with automatic weapons,
grenades, gas masks, moisturizer with SPF15, Prozac, hormones, chocolate,
and canned tuna.

Drop us (parachuted, preferably) across the landscape of
Afghanistan, and let us do what comes naturally.

Our anger quotient alone, even when
doing standard stuff like grocery shopping and paying bills, is formidable
enough to make even armed men in turbans tremble.

We've had our children, we would gladly suffer or die
to protect them and their future. We'd like to get away from our husbands,
if they haven't left already.  And for those of us who are single, the
prospect of finding a good man with whom to share life is about as likely
as being struck by lightning.

We have nothing to lose.

We've survived the water diet, the protein diet, the
carbohydrate diet, and the grapefruit diet in gyms and saunas across
America -- and never lost a pound.

We can easily survive months in the hostile
terrain of Afghanistan with no food at all!

We've spent years tracking down our husbands or lovers in bars, hardware
stores, or sporting events.   Finding bin Laden in some
cave will be no problem.

Uniting all the warring tribes of Afghanistan in a new
government? Oh, please!   We've planned the seating arrangements for
in-laws and extended families at Thanksgiving dinners for years ... we
understand tribal warfare.

Between us, we've divorced enough husbands to know
every trick there is for how they hide, launder, or cover up bank accounts
and money sources. We know how to find that money and we know how to seize
it ... with or without the government's help!

Let us go and fight. The Taliban hates women. Imagine their terror as we
crawl like ants with hot-flashes over their godforsaken terrain. I'm going
to write my Congresswoman. You should, too!

Unknown author