The eyes have it

by RAF KATIGBAK

So yeah, I’ve been thinking of joining the army. Now, most of you reading this are going to be asking, “Why? Why would someone with a perfectly satisfactory life and such long and luxurious hair throw it all away to become a cog in the military industrial complex?” Well let me tell you, it’s not because I am desperate for money. And it’s definitely not because I just spent an entire week addicted to Call of Duty 4 on my PS3 (even though I have been steadily upping my ranking by fragging noobs online).

It’s because I believe in something. I believe in freedom. I believe in a world free from terror. I believe in one day living in a country where you don’t have to take your shoes off before boarding a plane, and yes, perhaps living in a world where you don’t even have to take your pants off before going to the bathroom (where are the scientists on this one?).

Call me crazy, call me ignorant, or call me “that weird no-pants pee guy” like those damn short-sighted producers of Dragons’ Den did, but that’s just what I believe.

But it’s not only about what I believe; it’s about what I want. I want to fight for even the smallest glimmer of hope against all odds. I want to fight for a world we all can live in peacefully—under the constant watchful eye of extreme overreaching military retaliation. I want to defend the values and freedoms we hold dear in this country against terrorists, monsters that live only to destroy our way of living, and our inalienable right to choose to pee with our pants off or, better still, on. Oh, and finally, and above all, I want to have free corrective laser eye surgery.

That’s right, according to a National Post article from last Monday, “Canada’s military is moving toward surgically enhancing the vision of its soldiers, sailors and airmen, hoping to better equip them for combat and other demanding jobs—without the hassle of eyeglasses or contact lenses.” Do you know what that means? If I agree to be shipped off thousands of miles from home, eat crappy food, bunk up with a bunch of horny bald dudes, and maybe possibly kill total strangers, I can have 20/20 vision! Sure I may live the rest of my life haunted by the images of senseless violence and the faces of those I have taken away from their loved ones, but that’s a $3,000-$6,000 savings (not to mention what I save on glasses and contact lenses)! That’s something to shake a stick at!

I suppose there are several reasons I want corrective eye surgery, beyond the fact that it would allow me to terminate hostiles on a whim. Mostly, I’m curious what it would look like to wake up and see the world not as amorphous blobs or as a shitty Impressionist painting. Glasses are a pain in the ass. Sure, in the past they’ve saved me from getting hit with stray projectiles like coins and small shards of chicken bone, and on an aesthetic level, as the military recruiter I consulted put it, “They also frame my face nicely and accent the sweeping, slightly almond shape of my eyes.”

Another thing I wouldn’t miss about glasses is the shittiness they bring to experiencing music. Of course, I am talking about headbanging. There is nothing more cringy than the awkwardness of removing them before launching into a really heavy riffaged part of your favourite metal song. Recently, during a monster karaoke session, I was killing it on Sabbath’s “War Pigs,” hitting all the screechy highs of “Generals gather in their massessssss…” and the ecstatic explosions of the “All right yeah!” parts, but then in the middle, when it gets all crazy on the guitar, I was screwed. What’s worse: having to take a time-out to carefully pocket your spectacles or just hold them on your face as you thrash your neck around? It doesn’t get much dorkier than that.

But really, where is all this military medical tampering leading? If you answered “Some fuckin’ Robocop shit,” then you’re right. First you surgically enhance their eyes. Then they’re getting “target practice” to make sure they’re using their new eyes properly. Pretty soon they’ve got flamethrowers for hands and they’re being injected with some kind of alien/human hybrid DNA from a UFO that crash-landed near North Bay, Ontario. Nice try government, I know what you’re up to. I’ve seen the X-Files. So yeah, maybe I’m not gonna join the military after all. Maybe I’ll just stay nice and safe by going online and killing random people from all over the world from the comfort of my own living room.

All offers to Deathmatch on COD4 will be dutifully accepted. E-mail me your PS3 screenname and we’ll settle this like grown men who still live in their parents’ basements and whose thighs are stained orange from wiping Dorito particles from their hands because they’re too lazy to get up and use a paper towel.

RIFF-RAFF@SYMPATICO.CA