Make Love Not War

According to the Sydney Morning Herald, the CIA or some some other spooky U.S. agency (all cats are grey...) have had to get inventive with incentives.

They found themselves in need of a new kind of bribe to get the local warlords on side and chatty. Apparently, they had been relying on the well-tested approach of money. This not only left them with a very low score for imagination and creativity, it also had the problem of rendering itself ineffective in a relatively short period of time.

You see, the thing about money is that it has no inherent value. It is a medium of exchange; nothing more, nothing less. If you are rendered unable to exchange it for anything, you are completely stuffed. Like dead, for example. No shopping opportunities in the after-life, hence the expression 'you can't take it with you'. Example 2: You are an Afghan warlord in a small community whose expenditure of large amounts of money, whether it be on land or livestock, cows or clothes, bongs or bling, will be instantly noticed by your compatriots and peers. In this situation, experience has shown, the prominent display of a new gold watch a month after that mysterious Western fellow has passed through town is so instantly recognised as an 'Example-2-type-situation' that you very quickly find yourself in an 'example-1-type-situation' i.e. dead. Either that, or your mates decide you are a dirty dobbing dog in which case you become 1) very lonely, and 2) cut off from the very source of information that you were hoping to make a nice little earner selling in the first place.

What to do? Create a pay-packet they can consume, use and abuse to their heart's content without anyone complaining. Better still, if someone does see the change in behaviour, suddenly you are not only a warlord, but a stud.

Seems life is hard for an ageing warlord who is into polygamy. Or, more accurately, making life hard gets harder and harder all the time, especially with a stressful war to stay alive in, foreign agents to talk to, etc. Last thing you want is for word to go around the market-place that you are not up to (excuse the pun) meeting your conjugal obligations. The guys might start thinking you are a wuss or something.

The answer? Viagra. The warlord looks south and is proud of what he sees. With any luck the wives benefit as well. No-one beyond the boudoir need ever know, and if they hear anything, its likely to make your macho reputation go up, rather than down. That's the plan, anyway. Suddenly half the village is walking around grinning like idiots. With just a smidge of swagger. And maybe, just maybe, the little kids grow up, surrounded by a little less frustration and anger and a little more satisfaction, and a little more belief in humans' ability to bring each other joy, every now and again.

I know, I know. I am being flippant. One can't assume that your average middle-aged warlord will spend their new-found 'wealth' either wisely or kindly. By the same token, I am sure that the women in question are perfectly capable of generating their own joy if and when they need to, one way or another. In the scheme of things, though, its gotta beat trafficking in narcotics, weapons, or nuclear isotopes.

I like to think they include a complimentary Barry White CD.