"She already signed the papers. The fuck?" Chaffin suggests, classy as ever, that perhaps she'll end up in Motor T and get "airtighted by three niggers," which would in the estimation of another fine fellow of our United States Marine Corps cause her to resemble a "fucking cumdragon." Like, Falkor? ...Whoa, Daddy's working blue tonight. That's hardly an appropriate image. I apologize. Manimal goes half as fucking nuts as he's going to, which is still way nuts, about how he would like to at this point call in some danger-close on his wife, and additionally fly some Cobras right up her fucking lawyer's ass. There's a whole sympathy thing I'm missing for Jacks's problems, because I've never been given a reason to give a fuck about him beyond his enormous mitts, which are impressive.
Off to the side, Wynn and Sixta note the dip in morale, because that's 90% of their jobs, and Sixta says in slightly less than his usual illiterate retardese, "If morale gets really bad, Mike, let me know. I'll stir 'em up good with the Grooming Standard," and winks again. Which, if you've not been really paying attention, might seem like some swooping reversal where everything makes sense, except Pappy already told us in like the first episode that -- much like the denial of basic shit serves to make Marines even crazier -- being a Sergeant Asshole is the job, but being an Asshole Regular Grade is different, and that Sixta, the coward of Khafi, excels at both. Which makes him precisely one-half of a badass, and he can still suck it. Wynn's like, "Yeah, I'll let you know."
So, Nate tells us, "This was apparently Uday and Qusay's cigarette factory. They exported twenty brands of cigarettes and made almost $50 million a year." (Insert silly meta joke about how Evan and Nate both wrote awesome books that you really should have read by now, if I haven't mentioned them quite enough yet.) Meanwhile, in the real fictional real fake real secret actual world, Iraqi guys are writing a book and they don't even have paper and the book says, "We need help. We need help. Please, stop the looting." This book is not very satisfying because as anybody knows, a narrative needs two things: a sense of internal logic, and a sense of identification with the protagonist. Nobody's going to read the book of Iraqis begging to be saved from the hell we've plunged them into, because it lacks both.
The thing about decentralizing a government is that inevitably the rule of law gets all, you know, decentralized. It's nice to have a plan to stabilize it back, in addition to your plan to fuck everything up and hope that you can kill everybody that goes crazy as a result, but not historically likely, because everybody goes crazy when you drive them crazy on purpose, and then your choices are either to kill everybody, or else cross your fingers and hope it goes away. Or, in the case of our invasion of Iraq, somehow both.