Da Troof

Kid, 17 yo, pimples: "Yo! I wanna, like, y'know, join the Army!"

Recruiter: "Well, OK, there son! Yer gonna LOVE it! After we train you in the fine art of killin, we gonna send yuh to the hottest desert in the world, where you gonna carry 'round 150 pounds of equipment, no armor, where there's a hunnert pissed off towelheads to every onna yew. We gonna putcha inna non-armored hummvee in heat you can't imagine to look fer enemies you can't tell from friends. If yuh survive the heat, yer gonna deal with roadside bombs, car bombs, and friendly fire bombs filled with depleted uranium or maybe some new kinda poison gas we're testin. We're gonna 'noculate yuh with stuff they just cooked up in Mohave Desert, just tuh see if it'll work. If yuh get through the next 18 tuh 60 months or so without losin more than three limbs and yer mind, we ship yuh back to the states. You gonna be so happy you'll kill yer wife in about three days, but you'll survive the suicide attempt, so we'll load yuh into a troop carrier and set yuh down in Looseeanna so yuh kin protect flooded out buildings and stores from them crazy criminals tryin to steal food they don't own. They'll be armed with the same guns we give you. So, YOU REDDY TUH SERVE YER COUNTRY, SON?"

Kid: "Way kewl! Where do I sign?"