There was a time, not so long ago, when NATO generals assured us that the West’s military-industrial complex could crank out artillery shells like Budweiser cans for a NASCAR tailgate party. Fast-forward to June 2025, and Ukraine’s front-line troops are down to chucking wads of spent chewing tobacco over trench walls, praying they’ll at least sting a few Russian egos. That’s not war—it’s a Skoal-fueled slap fight in the mud.
NATO’s Production Line: Powered by Bureaucracy and Hopium
For months, Ukraine has been begging for more 155mm shells like a war junkie shaking outside a locked ammo depot. The Pentagon responds by announcing they’ll eventually hit a million shells a year, sometime around when George R.R. Martin finishes his next novel. In the meantime, Ukraine’s artillery crews are staring at empty crates and wondering if those old Soviet mortars rusting behind the barn are worth a second look. The phrase “lethal aid” has become a punchline—mostly because the delay might literally get people killed.
From Howitzers to Copenhagen
So here we are. The finest army in Eastern Europe, battling trench rats, Iranian drones, and vodka-soaked conscripts with nothing but grit, guts, and grandpa’s leftover chaw. When you’re short on high explosives and long on creative rage, you weaponize whatever’s handy. Chewing tobacco. Bad breath. Existential spite. It’s like Saving Private Ryan meets Deliverance—except the banjos are drowned out by NATO saying, “We’re working on it.”
Cartoon of the Day: Chew on This
In today’s cartoon from the uber-creative mind of Bob Lang, we bring you a battlefield vision that would make Patton spit his stars: Ukrainian grunts lobbing old chewing tobacco at the enemy with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for bar fights and political conventions. One Russian is already hollering, “Мне плохо!”—roughly translated: “I feel sick!” Which, to be fair, is an appropriate response to a flying gob of Skoal mixed with trench dirt and Slavic resentment.
Let this image burn itself into your brain pan: while well-dressed bureaucrats in Brussels sip espresso and debate shell contracts, Ukrainian soldiers are launching spit bombs across no-man’s land. If that doesn’t scream “the free world has totally forgotten about Ukraine,” I don’t know what does.
There was a time, not so long ago, when NATO generals assured us that the West’s military-industrial complex could crank out artillery shells like Budweiser cans for a NASCAR tailgate party. Fast-forward to June 2025, and Ukraine’s front-line troops are down to chucking wads of spent chewing tobacco over trench walls, praying they’ll at least sting a few Russian egos. That’s not war—it’s a Skoal-fueled slap fight in the mud.
NATO’s Production Line: Powered by Bureaucracy and Hopium
For months, Ukraine has been begging for more 155mm shells like a war junkie shaking outside a locked ammo depot. The Pentagon responds by announcing they’ll eventually hit a million shells a year, sometime around when George R.R. Martin finishes his next novel. In the meantime, Ukraine’s artillery crews are staring at empty crates and wondering if those old Soviet mortars rusting behind the barn are worth a second look. The phrase “lethal aid” has become a punchline—mostly because the delay might literally get people killed.
From Howitzers to Copenhagen
So here we are. The finest army in Eastern Europe, battling trench rats, Iranian drones, and vodka-soaked conscripts with nothing but grit, guts, and grandpa’s leftover chaw. When you’re short on high explosives and long on creative rage, you weaponize whatever’s handy. Chewing tobacco. Bad breath. Existential spite. It’s like Saving Private Ryan meets Deliverance—except the banjos are drowned out by NATO saying, “We’re working on it.”
Cartoon of the Day: Chew on This
In today’s cartoon from the uber-creative mind of Bob Lang, we bring you a battlefield vision that would make Patton spit his stars: Ukrainian grunts lobbing old chewing tobacco at the enemy with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for bar fights and political conventions. One Russian is already hollering, “Мне плохо!”—roughly translated: “I feel sick!” Which, to be fair, is an appropriate response to a flying gob of Skoal mixed with trench dirt and Slavic resentment.
Let this image burn itself into your brain pan: while well-dressed bureaucrats in Brussels sip espresso and debate shell contracts, Ukrainian soldiers are launching spit bombs across no-man’s land. If that doesn’t scream “the free world has totally forgotten about Ukraine,” I don’t know what does.
** Editor’s Note: It pains me to have to do this, but before any of you ask, no, the Ukrainians aren’t really lobbing chew-laden spit bombs at their invasion-happy neighbors to the north. But it does look pretty gross.
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