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Don’t lie to them and to thyself. This Army is the army of volunteers. They enlist and then they face the the simple issue that they are screwed. The society uses them as mercenaries to kill people on the foreign soil so that the big guys here have their regular supply of blood and gold, small guys have their violent entertainment and Toys R US can sell GI Joes. It is all fixed. They die and we cry. Everyone gets what he deserves. I heard those words were on the gates on Auschwitz. Or Buchenwald. When Johnny comes marching home he should better look around. If he decides that his crappy town with no good water, dingy streets, no health insurance and dead- end jobs is the reason he went to war to blow his head off then maybe he should go back to war so nicely provided by the President. Then he is an armed corpse. But if he gets into black rage maybe he should go the that Arlington Cemetery and gives that undead pervert Cheney a piece of mind. And that would be honorable. So far the honor belongs to Cindy Sheehan. Honor works both ways, folks. Honesty to each other is the primary foundation for it. Let’s start from the ‘ Honest work for Honest pay’. What work, is it honest? What pay, is it honest? That’s honor- in acknowledgment. Let’s talk. Just don’t lie.
A writer is a rogue goose. All other gees fly in a flock formation; every goose knows his place and time for honking. The rogue goose is undisciplined. He leaves the formation indiscriminately to have a look at it from aside. He roams back and forth, takes a peep at the leader, honks a little bit from behind, distracts everyone and writes on what he sees. Time passes and as he wants to return back to his place he discovers someone else there. Thus he either has to wait until they land for rest or join another flock in emigration. Those other birds could be cranes, storks or even crows. If he makes it he will become a rogue again. Whenever he goes and whatever he writes he never reaches a destination or enjoys a landing. There's only Kipling's God of Fair Beginnings and skies above and beyond. And the only way for a writer to make peace with the Deity is through the language of Poetry
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