Archive for February, 2013

Errand Boy

  • Eddie Garcia: Miep, blueness was banned because he attacked all who serve in the entire military, viciously and unjustifiably, and also because a forensic psychologist contacted the admins and offered a diagnosis of a psychiatric disorder. You’ll note that his last diary was deleted. Admins did that It was damaging to the site.

He can be terrible. He can be mean. And he can be right. But you’re gonna call him crazy? Wrong! Wrong! If you could have heard the man just two days ago, if you could have heard him then! God. and you're gonna call him crazyThe man’s enlarged my mind. He’s a poet-warrior in the classic sense. Sometimes he’ll, well, you say hello to him, right? And he’ll just walk right by you, and he won’t even notice you. And then suddenly he’ll grab you and he’ll throw you in a corner and he’ll say, “Do you know that ‘if’ is the middle word in ‘life’? If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you.” I’m a little man, I’m a little man; he’s a great man. “I should have been a pair of ragged claws, scuttling across floors of silent seas.” The heads. You’re looking at the heads. Sometimes he goes too far. And he’s the first one to admit it. He gets friendly again, he really does. See, just lay cool, lay cool. Lay back, dig it. Well, man, he’s gone away. He disappeared out in the jungle with his people. He feels comfortable with his people. He forgets himself with his people. He forgets himself.


Shiny Happy People

People are gregarious by necessity. Since the days of the first cave dwellers, humans—hairless, weak, and helpless save for cunning—have fun fun funsurvived by joining together in groups; knowing, as so many other edible creatures have found, that there is protection in numbers. And that knowledge, bred in the bone, is what lies behind mob rule. Because to step outside the group, let alone to stand against it, was for uncounted thousands of years death to the creature who dared it. To stand against a crowd would take something more than ordinary courage; something that went beyond human instinct. And I feared I did not have it, and fearing, was ashamed.

—Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

Preview Of Coming Attractions

That all the guns are going to go—that is just a small part of it.

Also going: the money, the cities, a/kthe “jobs.”


Quaint amusing relicts. Of the larval stage. Of human beings.

These days, the larvae eagerly yammer, increasingly, of going into space, there to, with their scuttling unthinking humanoid claws, mine, rip, plunder.


They’re going into space, all right. Humans. But not as larvae. Instead, as butterflies. And, therefore, not in bodies at all.

And there, they will disturb nothing at all.

It’s all, going to be all right.

It doesn’t matter to me, whether you see any of this. Or not. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I’ve looked over.

There’s Love In This World

There’s Love In This World

There’s Love In This World

Soul Sacrifice

Now it is said that Eddie Routh, the Semper Fi guy accused of back-shooting Super Sniper Seal back-shooter Chris Kyle, arrived shortly thereafter at the home of his sister, behind the wheel of Kyle’s black Ford truck; Routh informed her he had “traded his soul for a new truck.”

He stated that he was required to kill both Kyle and Chad Littlefield because “he couldn’t in the bagtrust them.” So, “he killed them before they could kill them.”

All three men had been wandering around with weapons at a Texas gun range. Reports are that Kyle and Littlefield had taken Routh to the gun range so he could bang-bang shoot-shoot as a form of “therapy.”

Routh had not been doing well for some time. A veteran of Operation Iraqi Fiefdom, Routh in June of 2012 was identified by his mother as the suspect in a burglary of her home in which the thief absconded with nine bottles of pills. In September of 2012, Routh was hospitalized after he threatened to kill himself and his family. Responding law-enforcement officers found him “shoeless and smelling of booze”; Routh stated “he was hurting and that his family does not understand what he has been through.”

On January 19, Routh was again hospitalized, this time after a Dallas woman told police she feared for his safety. He was released on January 24, soon returned, then released again, this time on January 29. It is said that Routh was released from this latest hospital-stay, against his family’s wishes, four days before he went out on the range with Kyle and Littlefield.

Kyle was an advocate of placing guns in the hands of troubled veterans.

In his book, Kyle wrote that gun-range therapy was meant to be easygoing and fun, with teasing, jokes and bonding over beers and stories.

“What wounded veterans don’t need is sympathy,” Kyle wrote. “They need to be treated like the men they are: equals, heroes, and people who still have tremendous value for society. If you want to help them, start there. In a funny way, bustin’ back and forth shows more respect than asking ‘Are you OK?’ in a sickly sweet voice.”

Oh yes. Heaven forbid that one inquire whether another human being is okay. Better to give them a beer, and a gun.

In a response to this piece, red reader roger recently revealed here that he almost became, like Kyle, a sniper.

I’m glad to see the article. It’s struck a personal theme for me. You see, they wanted me to be a sniper in vietnam. I would have done it, too. But a soon-to-retire active us army veteran of WW2 and Korea combat took me aside and, choosing his words cautiously, set me straight on that possible future. He’s gone now. I am forever in his debt. They say that the souls of the people you kill all go into a bag. A bag you’ll have to drag along throughout your life – and maybe for eternity. Evidently there were too many in Kyle’s bag. Garrulous souls, perhaps, and they wanted Kyle to join them in their whited sepulchers.

When I Worked

February 2013
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