“Then we send a few guys downtown to rent all of the war movies they can get their hands on. They also buy a hell of a lot of beer. For three days we sit in our rec room and drink all of the beer and watch all of those damn movies, and we yell Semper fi and we head-butt and beat the crap out of each other and we get off on the various visions of carnage and violence and deceit, the raping and killing and pillaging.


Now is my time to step into the newest combat zone. And as a young man raised on the films of the Vietnam War, I want ammunition and alcohol and dope, I want to screw some whores and kill some Iraqi motherf–kers.”
excerpt from ‘Jarhead – A Marine’s Chronicle’

I said this, before :




You f–king primates. Kill each other until you’re all dead, grind each other’s bones to make your bread. Swing the infants by their heels and shatter their tiny skulls on the doorjambs of your hovels. Kill! Hate! Let it never end! Swear blood feuds, and carry on the senseless slaughter of your fathers’ fathers, and their thick-fingered simian fathers, too. Bathe in the blood of your enemies, before they have a chance to caper like children in arterial gouts of yours. Cleanse the world of your hated foes, yes, that’s it, ethnically cleanse. If there are any women left alive, don’t forget to rape them, and rape them hard. Slitting their throats after you’ve spilled your filthy warrior seed is optional, but recommended. Kill! Lay waste! Wreak havoc! Defend the honour of your people, sink your hands deep into the warm entrails of those you would destroy as they cough out their last curse! Kill!

Just hurry it up, already. I’m waiting to dance on your unmarked graves, you cheeseheads.

I’m too f–king weary to get as worked up as I was when I wrote that little rant about some-f–king-war or other, so transliterate if you must, my friends. Turgid, purple and mildly embarrassing, sure, but better than nothing, right?
Better than embarrassed, embattled, uncertain silence. Better than a sad and defeated realization that no matter how intense the outrage born from a meaningless commitment to steer one’s course by what seems ethical and right, the stupidity and hatred and killing will just keep rolling on.
Let’s Roll™!


Join the conversation! 4 Comments

  1. Stavros,
    Altho I have a totally different view on this than you (I do support my President) I can and do understand totally how all of us are repulsed by the horror that is war. But for me at the very least, whether I am wrong or not, I can rejoice in the fact that Saddam’s son will never throw men in a plastics shredder ever again.
    When this thing ends, it is my fervent hope that all of us, no matter what view we have now, can rally round the idea of an Iraq that cherishes and serves its people instead of what has gone before.
    All that really matters is the opinion of the Iraqi people -and soon we will know for ourselves what that is.
    Till then I reserve judgement on my own opinion, and I continue to respect even the differing opinions of others.
    Until then, we hang on, and we pray.

  2. **Danger: Mindless Raving, Next Several Paragraphs**
    Somebody sung me a song, (couldn’t keep the beat), sure they got it wrong…
    Drummer at the door, man, smilin’ at me. Let’s get him on his way. Bonds to buy, men to die.
    Hey, boy, on your feet. You know I’m right. (What’s he think? It don’t matter.) No shame in being a stranger in some other stranger’s land. (Mama, what’s that man got in his hand?)
    Hey, friend, but we all know what it’s about, right? Liberation, man, that’s what the talking head said. Justice, peace, and a few less sheep to fleece. Beware an honest man bearing freedom, what can I tell you?
    [Sanitize, Democratize]
    A metal swarm of truth, and some laser-guided hope, to all the poor, the down-trodden ones. Ten tons of love in a hard, shiny wrapping. God bless gravity, and the good guys, and the good guys.
    (Better than soap) There’s blood enough, I hope. Gotta get it clean Besides, hatin’ makes a man thirsty. Make sure to smile, your skin’ll glow, sin won’t show.
    [Patronize, Demoralize]
    We’ll dance tonight, that’s how it goes. If only they could see, didn’t ask me, no sir, not me sir. They’re better men tonight, ‘cause now they knows…
    It matters. How they got it wrong, I’ll never know. Still don’t love me, I wonder. I lit the way, gotta do what’s right, what do you say? (I’m sure he’ll rejoice, if he wakes up.) They’ll all sing along, now I showed ‘em the words, sing in the morning.
    [Truth is bright, Hide Your Eyes]
    What do you know, it was me singing, all along…

    Pardon that, my friend. I seldom resort to poetry, even the remarkably bad (read: easy) sort, but rational language is unequal addressing the irrational. For the record, I couldn’t agree with you more. And since we’re on the subjects of war and stupidity, I just want to say: “Operation Iraqi Freedom? To judge by recent video footage, Baghdad has officially been liberated well back into the bleeding Paleozoic. If that’s freedom, where the hell are my chains?” Furthermore… Eh, screw it, I’m entirely too incensed and too sober to talk about it any more for now. Instead, I’ll steal someone else’s words, words which I‘m sure would find ready voice in many a bleary-eyed Iraqi in the coming mornings:

    “Looking about us, we can say with pardonable pride that we have been about as thoroughly liberated as it is possible…to be.
    –William Tenn

    That being said, I’ll thank you for the loan of your ear, and then I’m off to see how best I might remedy that sobriety problem.
    Peace (Whatever that means).

  3. I apologize for the sub-simian formatting. Sleep is good, man…
    As pennance, I went and posted the whole lot in what I jokingly call my blog (click my name, take your chances) where it is in something which more closely approximates legible form.

  4. Thanks for that, Masked One. Peace back at ya.
    Bunny, I do not share your optimism that anything will get any better for the Iraqi people once they dig themselves out from under the piles of their own dead, but I hope that you’re right, even while I suspect you’re wrong. We can but hope, and, if we’re the praying kind, pray.
    Meanwhile, murderers worse than Hussein or any of his clan continue to rule with American support, tacit or explicit, all around the world. We ought not to forget to say a prayer for the people tortured and murdered by them, as well…

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