The war is begging to end. The Pentagon is as ill as wiggled-jiggled arch enemy of rational thought-'evil' beezlebozo sad-sack creeps thought can get. When these career lifers (ever meet them? ever wish to pinch 'um to see if they are really a robot machine?) rave their maddest ravings, it's mild compared to the ferocious rage that festers within a indiscreet youth who has eye-witnessed unnatural barbarism's perpetuated at home with 'puff' remarks, "Support The Troops."

We have seen nothing yet. Post war trauma can be a emotional-nuke bomb inside a sensitive human. A psychopath thrives in war with a gov-mint permission and sanction to murder. Maybe a returning soldier's face gets blush-red, appears punched-up like a fist as it squints, and a voice booms loud and people disperse..." The fury to the uninitiated will make the scrotum shrink, it's said in warfare climates. No ice cold water can squelch mr. PFC ape-donuts in the pentagon zoo...

O, the war seems to have f***ed with his head," observers may say...as a "troop" uses war ling, a voice screaming sad and vague memories not allowable in the public arena...But the pro-kill them "mutton's" chattering careerists are stark ill-in denial. I am Not saying good leaders are impossible to find in the military, but far too many career lifers are just the effrontery-type: wear a peacock medal chest...'Um say all day drinking coffee and reflecting how cautious they need to be and who the 'lifer career' person must impress to get nice Hawaii tours and higher rank...so- the career devotee may hear at the gynO. cool. wow, what posture, spit shine shoes, a straight gig-line...impressive--a good conduct medal--neat!"

The Pentagon's pro-war folk groan and try to deny and distract even themselves from the insane-mess within their own wounded person-hood. I must abstain from entering more into my expressions of cynical disgust about THIS war and our failed "leadership."

They are like a group of 'twerps' who think the best thing in life is to have comradely chat and pleasure talk to "surge" and be "victorious" in war. It's just sick, un-grown up men, engaging in 'locker room' talk...'Um it's "unloading their balls."

balls--being analogous as Montaigne's use the word in Latin for balls, 'vases,'...using our precious youth as war tools.

"PTS-Stress" is a killer. It is a monstrous emotional hurt that can kill the one who hurts, or in rare situations a sufferer can be transformed into a form of 'emotional contribution' to inform society. My thinking is we are all becoming a bit 'frenzied' with a epidemic-mild dose of post trauma and we can get more stressed-out. Trauma can percolate and become a volcanic 'surging' with a anti-insane-madness...we witness in our ill-administration. Please Stop this ill maladministration!

You can't even have a sustained conversation with the pro-warmonger crowd. It's too weird to listen to their raving. O, and mine too? I'll sit down next to my immaculate made bunk-bed and sit in a fetal position all day on the floor and spit shine my farm boots? I'll be okay. I support a surge of cow-moo-flop on the White House steps. Wow. 'Shad up.'

I wandered off the planet and focused on Not thinking about war in the post Vietnam 70's. I was in in denial. Then I began walking via the proverbial American jungle landscape during the Contra slaughter days, Not wanting to eyewitness bloodshed. I was unaware I was walking in a stateside hyper-vigilant "platoon," and war-hurt packed deep within, begged for release. The pain had to be released. I wept.

I worked as a counselor in the Vet Center Outreach Program in the 80's...the wounded veterans who had Not succumbed to premature death or repressed thoughts that mentally deranged them...Oh IRONY!...were my best informants and healers. The V.A. job, doing advocacy, helped me express in a non-groan-rage, and how vainly I tried to distract myself from wars memories. Apologies for the ramblings/ravings...It pleases me most to read those who have Not been too scared and numb...speak with a measure of rational ant-war calm. Salon, Now, I will do-down-time and shine my boots, yes sir drill Sargent, General Benjamin. Thanks! ? ~*~ unload water from a vase and pick some fresh daffodils? okay. check for comma's and coma's. What's G.G. ranting about?

I always like to give credit for a borrowed inspiration. A name may evoke a bunch of crazy raw emotions. It's an overlap. A naive frankness and quote a reference for every dang single thought can get us it trouble too. Don't quote a person we just glossed via a glossy government pamphlet full of pro-war propaganda too? We may discover too late he masturbates in the Halls of Congress?

We best think critically and give credit when it's do. It's nice to know it's 'not important to have testes to testify.'--Martial, Epigrams.

The straightford whores in our government offend me much--bebop-o?

I deny I said it. Thanks Sysprog. You remind me of a stone mason who kept his skills all a good secret..."How you mix mud?" He'd pleasantly trick you. He'd have you make slurpee mud soup that spill down the blocks or mountain rocks.

He'd be a load of daily fun, and have a servant sent to 'tend,' parge, and try to fix The White House ..."huff, puff, blow the wacky residents out of town?"