I mean WTF... forget Oxycontin, Morphine, Fentanyl, 'Ludes, poppers, smack, weed, cough-syrup, acid, shrooms, peyote, datura, nutmeg, morning glory seeds... none of them are anywhere near as potent as whatever the hell it was David Feherty got ahold of.
Whatever it was, it needs to be outlawed. That is some seriously mind-altering stuff. Anything which can make a purportedly intelligent person; one who makes a living writing, take up the pen and put this to page:
Thirty years seems to be about the length of time it takes Americans to forget really bad things. Look at Donny and Marie Osmond. Does no one remember how badly they sucked the first time around? Yet both of them are back on television for no apparent reason, other than one is fat and can’t dance, and the other is a Hollywood used-to-be who squeals mindless gossip on people who would rather dive into oncoming traffic than talk to him. If Dubya were to reappear at 92 years old, his first album would probably go platinum. And, anyway, it will be that long before any of us knows the truth about how and why he played some of the rotten cards he was dealt.
I mean, that's some pretty good shit. Not only does it not inhibit the formation of grammatically sound sentences (which is more than could often be said of Uncle Duke) but it lasts long enough that one is willing to peddle that to an editor.
Ok, so that's bad enough. But (absent any transition) he follows with this crap:
From my own experience visiting the troops in the Middle East, I can tell you this, though: despite how the conflict has been portrayed by our glorious media, if you gave any U.S. soldier a gun with two bullets in it, and he found himself in an elevator with Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, and Osama bin Laden, there’s a good chance that Nancy Pelosi would get shot twice, and Harry Reid and bin Laden would be strangled to death. I’ve never met a soldier who didn’t love this president and this country, and I’ve met a bunch of them, at home and abroad, in hospitals and in theater. At Walter Reed, Bethesda Naval Medical Center, and the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, I have visited dozens of patients, and I always ask of them before I leave: “What do you want to do when you get out?” No matter how broken or burned, or how many limbs they are missing, they give only one answer: “I want to go back. I want to rejoin my team, to finish our mission.” They are rightfully proud of what they have done and want nothing more than to be with their brothers and sisters in arms, because they know the consequences if their job is left unfinished. Right here on American soil, we will end up with unqualified people having to do the job they have been doing over there so incredibly well, and with such extraordinary compassion. The fact is, Americans in America have been safe since 9/11, almost the whole length of G2’s term as president, and for that we should be thankful.
Bullshit. First, last and middle. Bullshit.
I'll admit it, I never wanted to go back. There were times I wished I had never left theater, but I never wanted to go back. There's only one thing which ever; in the deepest depths of the night, ever made me think of going back, and that was revenge. There were a couple of friends, whom had they been killed, I'd have returned to get some payback for.
I'm not proud of that, but I'm not ashamed of it either. Neither am I ashamed of not wanting to go back.
As to the rest of that garbage. Right. A nasty little fantasy. A pile of jingoistic nonsense. All of it lies. I don't love that president. I don't hate him. I don't wish him ill. But I do loathe him. I despise him. If he were drowning, I'd watch. If he were ever foolish enough to ask my opinion of him, I'd tell him. In scathing detail, as if to a recalcitrant Private; in very short words, and simple sentences, so he could understand.
While I was at Walter Reed, that twisted little shitbird, that AWOL slacker, stood at the White House and said, "Bring it on." He was telling people to kill my fellows, my comrades, my friends. There is no way I can love that. Hell, there is no way I can respect that.
His photo-op, on the USS Lincoln, cost those seaman days of time with their families. His petty little one-upmanship vendetta with Saddam Hussein has gotten more than 4,000 service members killed. My Battalion has an empty chair at Dining-Ins, because Lt. Vega didn't make it back.
He's made me an object of derison, because people hear I was an interrogator, and they know I must have tortured people. He's damaged my army, and he's proud of it.
No, I don't love him.
I confess, were I in an elevator with bin Laden, Pelosi, and Reid, and two bullets... Everyone would walk off that elevator. Pelosi and Reid would get a dressing down too. They shirked their duties. They were given the majority because people were unhappy with Bush. We wanted oversight. We wanted investigations, we wanted them to tell Bush the War was a bad idea, and he needed to put a stop to it.
They didn't. They let the Republicans be the effective minority they failed to be before the 2006 elections.
And then the doors would open, and I'd march bin Laden to the FBI.
Because I swore an oath, to the Constitution. Not to the resident of the White House. Not to the Army. Not to Congress. To the ideals of the nation.
Mr. Feherty , you may be sure I think your most recent book, An Idiot For All Seasons, is aptly named.
Whatever it was, it needs to be outlawed. That is some seriously mind-altering stuff. Anything which can make a purportedly intelligent person; one who makes a living writing, take up the pen and put this to page:
Thirty years seems to be about the length of time it takes Americans to forget really bad things. Look at Donny and Marie Osmond. Does no one remember how badly they sucked the first time around? Yet both of them are back on television for no apparent reason, other than one is fat and can’t dance, and the other is a Hollywood used-to-be who squeals mindless gossip on people who would rather dive into oncoming traffic than talk to him. If Dubya were to reappear at 92 years old, his first album would probably go platinum. And, anyway, it will be that long before any of us knows the truth about how and why he played some of the rotten cards he was dealt.
I mean, that's some pretty good shit. Not only does it not inhibit the formation of grammatically sound sentences (which is more than could often be said of Uncle Duke) but it lasts long enough that one is willing to peddle that to an editor.
Ok, so that's bad enough. But (absent any transition) he follows with this crap:
From my own experience visiting the troops in the Middle East, I can tell you this, though: despite how the conflict has been portrayed by our glorious media, if you gave any U.S. soldier a gun with two bullets in it, and he found himself in an elevator with Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, and Osama bin Laden, there’s a good chance that Nancy Pelosi would get shot twice, and Harry Reid and bin Laden would be strangled to death. I’ve never met a soldier who didn’t love this president and this country, and I’ve met a bunch of them, at home and abroad, in hospitals and in theater. At Walter Reed, Bethesda Naval Medical Center, and the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, I have visited dozens of patients, and I always ask of them before I leave: “What do you want to do when you get out?” No matter how broken or burned, or how many limbs they are missing, they give only one answer: “I want to go back. I want to rejoin my team, to finish our mission.” They are rightfully proud of what they have done and want nothing more than to be with their brothers and sisters in arms, because they know the consequences if their job is left unfinished. Right here on American soil, we will end up with unqualified people having to do the job they have been doing over there so incredibly well, and with such extraordinary compassion. The fact is, Americans in America have been safe since 9/11, almost the whole length of G2’s term as president, and for that we should be thankful.
Bullshit. First, last and middle. Bullshit.
I'll admit it, I never wanted to go back. There were times I wished I had never left theater, but I never wanted to go back. There's only one thing which ever; in the deepest depths of the night, ever made me think of going back, and that was revenge. There were a couple of friends, whom had they been killed, I'd have returned to get some payback for.
I'm not proud of that, but I'm not ashamed of it either. Neither am I ashamed of not wanting to go back.
As to the rest of that garbage. Right. A nasty little fantasy. A pile of jingoistic nonsense. All of it lies. I don't love that president. I don't hate him. I don't wish him ill. But I do loathe him. I despise him. If he were drowning, I'd watch. If he were ever foolish enough to ask my opinion of him, I'd tell him. In scathing detail, as if to a recalcitrant Private; in very short words, and simple sentences, so he could understand.
While I was at Walter Reed, that twisted little shitbird, that AWOL slacker, stood at the White House and said, "Bring it on." He was telling people to kill my fellows, my comrades, my friends. There is no way I can love that. Hell, there is no way I can respect that.
His photo-op, on the USS Lincoln, cost those seaman days of time with their families. His petty little one-upmanship vendetta with Saddam Hussein has gotten more than 4,000 service members killed. My Battalion has an empty chair at Dining-Ins, because Lt. Vega didn't make it back.
He's made me an object of derison, because people hear I was an interrogator, and they know I must have tortured people. He's damaged my army, and he's proud of it.
No, I don't love him.
I confess, were I in an elevator with bin Laden, Pelosi, and Reid, and two bullets... Everyone would walk off that elevator. Pelosi and Reid would get a dressing down too. They shirked their duties. They were given the majority because people were unhappy with Bush. We wanted oversight. We wanted investigations, we wanted them to tell Bush the War was a bad idea, and he needed to put a stop to it.
They didn't. They let the Republicans be the effective minority they failed to be before the 2006 elections.
And then the doors would open, and I'd march bin Laden to the FBI.
Because I swore an oath, to the Constitution. Not to the resident of the White House. Not to the Army. Not to Congress. To the ideals of the nation.
Mr. Feherty , you may be sure I think your most recent book, An Idiot For All Seasons, is aptly named.