I remember the good old days, back when Noriega and Ortega were the bad guys. Ah, those halcyon days when the US feral gummint illegally sold drugs to buy illegal arms to give illegally to revolutionaries. Remember those days?
When the US ferals would illegally invade sovereign nations, catch their lackey in a week of two, then illegally extradite them to stand trial in illegal court proceedings. Those were the days, my friend.
Those were fine days, indeed, when people wrung their hands and cried out to Heaven, "Is this another Vietnam?" If the military so much as bivouaced at Camp David, there were protests and placards, chants and chagrin. The nation held its breath and fretted every shot fired.
Who gives a shit? Bomb those countries into oblivion! Don't worry about remanding the bad guy to trial. Slaughter him in the most inglorious way possible, dump his corpse in the sea and wipe out his family while you're at it. No frets or worries or national soul-searching. Just kill, kill, kill.
If the nation gets bogged down in a sand-trap, who cares? Just send more money, men and machines! Rack up the costs and let our great-great-grandchildren worry about it. Damn the drones! Full speed ahead!
No protests. No gut-wrenching empathy for the millions of women, children and old folk slaughtered by the glorious robot killers. Only a minor peep from an invisible Congressman about impeachment. The UN and World Court sit around playing cards and picking their teeth as international law gets shredded after a thousand years of painful development.
Entire nations reduced to rubble, and millions of lives reduced to a line-item cost. It's the exact same attitude as a corporation ticking up ad costs. How much did it cost for each kill? What resources were used and what's the replacement cost for that family of five that was blown to DNA samples? Don't need to arrest and bring to trial, it will only remind people that the ones behind this fiasco are the ones who need to be tried and imprisoned.
Bin Laden is dead? Dance in the streets! Qadafi is dead? Party time! Brings the boys home? Hell NO! There's still 187 coutries left to bomb into dust!
Meanwhile, the supercilious OWS sit on their haunches bitching about foreclosed houses, while 6,000 miles away, a man holds the three left fingers of his beautiful 5-year-old daughter. It was all he could find after searching the rubble of the house his grandfather built with his bare hands. Enjoy that steak dinner, boys, you earned it building all those bombs and sacrificing your children!
Message to the OWS...take out your PodBerries and look up the 'Bonus Army'. See what would happen to you if you were really effective. See what Eisenhauer and Patton did to those men who protested the feral gummint in the midst of the First Depression. It happened once, it will happen again.
It's no wonder the US has become a nation of pill-popping, psychotropic sucking, zombies. They can't live with their consciences. Remember what that is? It's the little voice in your head that tells you, you are doing something wrong. Got it surrounded with Xanax, do you? Maybe that's why so many people on anti-depressants commit suicide. The conscience eventually wins.
Guess what, America? The country is getting flushed down the toilet of history because you are mortgaging your future to kill innocent people and people who have done nothing to threaten you, much less harm you.
The death of Qadafi, if it's not just more psy-op propagandizing, absolutely disgusts me. I want to throw up. The whole damn thing is so sick, so twisted, that I am at a loss for words, even with six dictionaries, three thesauruses, and 14 languages at my command.
I lost my family and everything I ever owned fighting those evil bastards. I didn't protest. I went straight at them in court. I eventually left the country in disgust, kicking the dust from my feet at LAX. And all I can see from here is a bunch of drug-addled waste-oids who can't muster the guts to defend their neighbor's house from the banksters, much less mount a menaingful protest against them after the fact.
Wake up, America! It's almost too late. Get off your TeeVee-addicted asses and look around you. Your gummint is laying waste to the world in its desperate bid to cling to some imaginary glory days. It's all a dream, and a particularly nasty one at that. You are nothing but a bunch of corporatized, mind-controlled slaves! Your weak and laughable protests mean absolutely nothing to the people that own you. They can wait you out. They have all your money. They have all your stuff. They have your children and they're blowing them up for laughs.
For God's sake, people, wake the hell up before your owners destroy the entire Earth in your name!
But, what do you care, right? It's just brown people and muslims. They have no value. Just a line-item in the national budget. I ask you, who is more worthless? The one you kill by remote? Or the one who allows it to be done in his name?
The day is coming. Eventually, the feral gummint will piss off the wrong people, or at least enough of them, and it will come back, hard and fast. And you know what? No one will morn your loss. The world will feel justified for having rid itself of a vicious monster that kills and destroys without remorse or reserve. You will wail and gnash your teeth and cry out in agony as you hold pieces of your loved ones in your cracked and bleeding hands. No one will hear you, because you heard no one. No one will feel your suffereing, because you felt none. No one will care, becaue you didn't.
It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when. I'm out here in the real world, and I can tell you with each new assassination, each new invasion, each new atrocity, the world loses a little more empathy. The thing about bullies is that everyone fears them until they have nothing left to lose, then they attack the bully en masse. It's already happening and you don't see it. I suppose that steak is piled too high to see the evil that has been done in your name.
It's five minutes to midnight, America. Where will you be when the music stops?
The place to protest is not on Wall Street. Those insensitive louts are laughing at you. The place to protest is at your neighbor's door when the banksters come to repo the house and car. The place to protest is at the bankruptcy courts. The place to protest is in your city hall and at your sheriff's office. You're not going to change a damn thing sitting on your ass in a park practicing group-think.
Oops! It's now four minutes to midnight...
Here Thar Be Monsters!
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