Back in the late 1960’s the Hell’s Angels really were. The Vietnam war was spiraling into the quagmire of disillusionment. Billy Jack became a cult classic fighting errant motorcycle gangs. I remember the Missouri redneck wisdom in the Hoopty Doo Bar and Grill – “We ought to take those Hell’s Angels and send them to Vietnam – let them fight over there.” Four or five rounds of Schlitz and Goetz’s County Club Malt Liquor always brought out the best in the locals.
I no longer hang out at the Hoopty Doo, but I can imagine those boys around the table in the corner. About 8:15 this evening one of them will be saying, “We ought to call George Bush right now – he probably never thought of this idea. Let’s send O.J. to Iraq!” Two of the others will check their cell phones to see if they have the White House number in their directory. Nope, can’t call tonight.