A Drone Responds: “No Matter What You Think of Me, I’m More Interesting Than My Name Implies”

Hi, I’m a drone. Recently there’s been a lot of controversy over the U.S. government’s use of me. Rand Paul’s filibuster last week got everyone debating the ethics of using drone strikes.  No matter where you stand on the issue, one thing needs to be said: despite my name, I’m an engaging and charming conversationalist.

One of the definitions Webster’s Dictionary gives us for the word drone is “to speak in a monotonous tone.” It’s also a word associated with boring lectures. Look, I may be an instrument of destruction. I may also be a murderer of innocents on occasion. But one thing I am not is a bad public speaker. Talk to me, and you’ll find yourself enraptured.

For example, last week I threw a party at my place and before I interjected, the conversation was all kinds of lame. It was so bad people started talking about their favorite type of lettuce. Spoiler alert: it was a romaine crowd. I hear this, put down my beer, park myself next to the spinach dip, and spend the next 45 minutes taking everyone on a wild journey  with the tale of that time I went to Pakistan and massacred a pack of Taliban soldiers and some sheep who were just minding their own business. I  was rewarded with a round of applause and all the Chex Mix I could eat. I accepted the applause but had to refuse the Chex Mix, as I am a plane.

Or how about last October, when I was on a date with this chick Carol. I show up a few minutes late, and she’s not happy. Do I panic? No! I soulfully regale her with the story of the time I blasted those Iraqi insurgents back to the Stone Age. Let me tell ya, if it was possible for an unmanned combat air vehicle to have sexual intercourse with a human female, we would’ve been getting down with our bad selves that night!

No one can capture a group’s attention like me, no matter how hostile that audience is. Take a few months ago, when I was dropping bombs on a village where the U.S. government thought al Qaeda operatives might be hiding out. As I was leaving the area, I noticed several innocent civilians who were going to be caught in the blast radius. As they looked up in terror, I really quick yelled down this great joke I know about a priest and a rabbi walking into a butcher shop. As I hit the punchline, they all guffawed with delight right before they were senselessly wiped from the face of the Earth. Even though I was the Grim Reaper assigned to bring about their unjust demise, it felt great to make people laugh. I should do standup.

What’s next for me? Well, due to all this political debate I’m worried I’ll lose my job soon, so I’ve signed a lucrative deal to go out on the speaking circuit. I’ll be paid thousands of dollars to recount my multitude of stories. Stories of love, romance, murdering brown people, adventure, passion, executing people who did nothing more than be in the wrong place at the wrong time, intrigue, mystery, and the government’s future plans to carry out attacks on U.S. soil against its own citizens.

Wait, forget I said that last part.

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