5AM – Rise.

This is when I used to get out of bed, brush my teeth, crank out some push-ups, and review last night’s aide memoire. No longer.

That was the old General Milley. The white rage Milley.

Nowadays, I read a chapter from How to Be an Antiracist, by Ibram X. Kendi, and have a cup of mushroom tea. Yes, it’s real. And it’s spectacular.

On reading Kendi, I realize I am a racist. I feel like Robert Byrd. You know, Joe’s buddy, the guy who said “I shall never fight in the armed forces with a negro by my side... Rather I should die a thousand times, and see Old Glory trampled in the dirt never to rise again than to see this beloved land of ours become degraded by race mongrels.” That guy.

Joe is always telling me what a great man Byrd was, but I don’t know. Seems kinda anti-Kendi, and I’m a Kendi kind of they/them!

6AM – Done with the chapter. What a teaching moment. I text Joe about “microaggressions” but he doesn’t seem to know what I’m talking about, or who I am, to be honest. But he did later mention microaggressions in a press conference about Russia and Ukraine. We told the media he said, “minor incursions.” They believed us, natch.

I stop to think about it. I have been a microaggressor all my life and didn’t even know it. All those push-ups I made black they/thems do. So racist. I drop and give myself 20, but I’ve been putting on weight at all these D.C. cocktail parties so I only manage four. I’ll do five tomorrow, inshallah!

7AM – I don’t take showers anymore. Those are racist, and climate change, or something. Instead, I use an antique Etruscan strigil and scrape myself clean. I stare in the mirror thinking about whole Trudeau/Northam “blacking up” thing. How am I supposed to really understand the plight of the African-American they/thems if I can’t put myself in their skin color? I should try it again. Can’t have my housekeeper Ximena walk in on me this time though. I absolutely was not rapping NWA’s “Fuck the Police” into my hairbrush. I would never.

8AM – I’m running late to the office, but no one really comes in anymore. All the Pentagon’s back office functions have been outsourced to China, and all our calls take place over Zoom, whose data goes through China, too. My theory is if all our operations are based out of China, that saves money and for the American tax payer, and shows China we are totally transparent… about everything!

9AM – I’m at my desk. No one’s here. It’s Thursday so most folks are on their mandatory, weekly Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion training course. Good. It’s the 21st Century for Floyd’s sake. We don’t need warfighters, we need a military fit to fight institutional racism. Well, unless Vladimir Putin sneezes in Ukraine’s direction. Then we’ll show him. Ukrainian border sovereignty is critical to American national security. It’s in the Constitution.

10AM – Caught up with some TikToks. There was a really brave one by a psychologist. She did a dance and told people to get vaccinated. Very moving. I treat myself to a cup of Yerba Mate because coffee is literally white supremacy. Even if you take it African-American like I do.

It’s better this way anyway, because coffee used to jack me up and you cannot participate in Pentagon Drag Yoga Hour if you’re jittery. It affects the form on the downward-facing dog. That’s my favorite position.

11AM – I am looking forward to yoga, but a call pops up in my schedule. Speaker Pelosi. Oh great, what have I done now?

11:30AM – Well that was the real boss on the phone. She wants more National Guard troops outside her office. Something about important market data on her laptop. I’ll send a thousand or so to keep her off my back.

12PM – Yay, yoga!

1PM – After lunch each day I lead a Quran study group in the Officer’s Mess. Today, SecDef Lloyd Austin and I acted out a theoretical scene. He played Muhammed and I played Aisha. I can’t say more for national security purposes, but I’m glad I got that downward-facing dog right.

2PM – Back to work. There are a number of extremely serious threats to U.S. national security right now and I would be no good as a Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff unless I found myself addressing these every day. I call my counterpart in China, General Li Zuocheng, to brief him on the latest U.S. intelligence, and reassure him that if there is any plan for America to attack Chinese interests, I will let him know in advance.

3PM – I guess the lines in here need fixing because all I could hear was maniacal Chinese laughter and then the call dropped. I’ll try again tomorrow. This gives me a chance to catch up on e-mails. I have a few Freedom of Information Act requests to ignore, then I’ll lay out our strategy in Ukraine for Prime Minister Ron Klain. He keeps stressing out about the fall of the Ukrainian government. Something about Burisma and paper trails, I dunno. Sounds like ballyhoo to me. But damnit if I don’t hate that Putin guy. He still thinks marriage is between one man and one woman. Like, hello? It’s 2022!

4PM – The day is just flying by. I laid out some invasion, uh, I mean, occupation, uh, I mean protecting democracy initiatives for Mr. Klain. He’s so nice, he said I could come with them to the Army-Navy football game with them this year, as long as I stood next to Joe. I am grateful, but I won’t go because they don’t kneel before games and honestly I am literally shaking just thinking about it.

5PM – Usually I would leave the office at this time and head home to see the wife, but lately I have been exploring the LGBT+ world of Washington, D.C. in an attempt to “better understand”. Sometimes I am not sure what I am supposed to better understand but after a few Blue Moons at Nellies I learn to stop worrying and love the bum.

1AM – Home. Hm, wife must still be out with her tennis coach. Good. I can catch up on some Maddow, and maybe catch the latest episode of How I Met Your Father. I love Hillary Duff. She should play Jen Psaki on Saturday Night Live. A New York Times Breaking News alert flashes on my phone. “China invades Taiwan.” Meh, it’s not Ukraine. I’ll handle it after Yoga Hour tomorrow.

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