About this puerile armor brouhaha currently distracting our once-great nation. My gut feeling, first of all, is to state the following and be done with it:
Listen, Mom, if you wanted your precious child to be at all times ensconced in concentric circles of impenetrable material, Mom, you probably should have squeezed your knees together for a change, kept him inside, stayed away from the night clubs, and hoped for the best. Nevertheless, somehow, against all the odds apparently, your little moppet not only got squeezed out, but has turned into an actual man, Mom. Not just a man, but a soldier. If this is not what you wanted for your little page boy then you should have done your darnedest to raise yourself a pooftah, or perhaps a girl. I assume you already tried this with Barbie dolls, yoga classes, sensitivity training, gender-neutral language instruction, and the like. But your efforts failed, the clock can't be turned back, instead of opening an art exhibit little Austin or Tyler has gone and joined up, and so I can't help you. No one can, not even Mother Oprah. As an outlet for your time-displaced, guilt-driven feelings of better-late-than-never coddle-nurturing, I suggest getting yourself a poodle. You can place a ribbon on it. A pink one. It would be ever so pretty.
However, there is more to this than fending off the fretting jibes of navel-gazing baby boomer once-absentee, now-politically-"active", suddenly-all-too-caring, "parents". It goes to the heart of what it means to fight a guerilla insurgency. (Although the following is a remedial lesson evidently much needed in our society, I shall not pretend that anything I write here was not anticipated long ago by Sun Tzu.)
When fighting a guerilla insurgency, the name of the game is dissipation. Do they concentrate their efforts, or do they thin and stretch them in pointless random ineffectual snipes against lines and convoys? Do we want command centers overrun or do we want silly "cells" of losers plotting for a week just to blow up a couple guys with a roadside bomb? I vote the latter.
Sound callous? Sorry, Mom, but that is the cold hard calculation of war. Kissinger knew this.
Following this (inevitable, irrevocable) logic, there is such a thing as over-armoring. If soldiers become invincible knights atop their HUM-V horses, guess where the uprising peasantry will turn next? That's right: the castle.
It's a numbers game from that point.
I assure you that Rummy knows all of this, even if you don't. Mom.