The blood is on your hands, Americans! Anything that happens to you is your fault, & we'll be laughing hard (If we aren't on the receiving end of the righteous justice of the oppressed.) when the chickens come home to roost.But at what cost to ourselves and the rest of the world? We’ve become the suppliers of weaponry to the planet’s hotspots. And those weapons deliveries (and the training and support missions that go with them) tend to make those spots hotter still—as in hot lead.
As a country, we seem to have a teenager’s fascination with military hardware, an addiction that’s driving us to bust our own national budgetary allowance. At the same time, we sell weapons the way teenage punks sell fireworks to younger kids: for profit and with little regard for how they might be used.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Murder Is Your Middle Name
by
M. Bouffant
at
14:32
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2 comments:
You won't be laughing when you can get an Egg McMuffin anywhere, comrade!
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"Wrong Again, Grasshopper" Editor:
Your editor hates eggs, & has not et one in any form* since 195X, w/ the exception of twice having had to eat quiche to avoid offending hosts, & because there were no other options beside what passes for starvation among honkies.
*Yezzz, yezzz, we eat them in baked goods, yada.
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