Are you... are you sure you don't need me to come with you?
I'm fine, Willy.
- Thanks.
- Yeah.
And so Glen finally got his face time with the president.
Getting fired probably wasn't the kind of face time he was after, but, well, I guess you could say it was kind of a page in the history books.
That was pretty exciting for me.
But, sadly, while I would've liked to have thought that my story had made a difference, it didn't.
It just became another celebrity-fall-from-grace story.
It would've been nice if the conversation after had been about the failure of counterinsurgency, or why we seem so desperate to be at war all the time, or how maybe what we're doing is just making more enemies all in the name of keeping America safe.
It might've been nice if it had caused someone important to ask what any of this says about us.
But really, the only question anyone seemed to want to ask was, "What the f*** was Glen McMahon doing talking to a Rolling Stone reporter anyway?"
Which, admittedly, is a good question.
Anyway, in the absence of any real soul searching, what do we do?
Well, obviously, we sack Glen and we bring in some other guy.
