I kind of know where the poor guy is coming from.
Sometimes, after an evening or a few evenings having a little too much to drink, you come up with plans that, in hindsight, just don't make that much sense.
Let's rob the liquor store.
Let's rig up a jib crane on the roof of the Arts building and hoist Professor Whatshisnames car up there.
Let's drive across the border and fetch 20 suitcases of Bud...
Captain Sango had one of those nights.
Late in the evening of 20 March, Sango and a few of his pals in the Mali officer corps, after more than a few Crown Royals straight up with Coors Lite chasers, decided to overthrow their government.
Now here's the scary bit. It worked.
So on the morning of 21 March, Captain Sango woke up to more than a routine hangover.
He had one humongous motherfucker of a headache.
He was the leader of a country! And not just any country, but one of the poorest countries in the world. Talk about a headache!
Now, if I was him, I would have taken the "oops, sorry, just kidding" route and handed power back to the civilian Pres the next day.
Not Sango. He took the "I really meant to do that" route.
Now he's got the US, the EU, the UN, and Amnesty International up his ass calling him all sorts of nasty names.
Meanwhile, those Taureg rebels in the north have seized the moment to liberate about two thirds of the country.
A word to Captain Sango; it's not too late to say you're sorry.
Get out while the gettin's good.
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