So much, so much.
I’m a little buzzed, so it’s okay.
First: old men. They make me cry. If one tear is shed….It’s over. Throw in the towel.
I interviewed two of them today. One, a Pearl Harbor Veteran, who got out with his ship just before noon, shooting the whole way out of the harbor. the other, a bona fide codebreaker, whose code of silence prevented him from telling his wife until 1996. She died shortly thereafter.
They are both in their 80s. When talking about Iraq and their wives and the media and the liberal “fuzzyheads” who carve out public opinion, both cried.
One was missing an eye from the shrapnel. The other had a catheter and did not understand the internet.
In my car, upon leaving, I bawled like a little baby. I will never be able to explain this to you. I just need you to know it happened, and that I might love Dubya and the USA. maybe.
“Torture…you don’t know torture until you’ve///
Other things. Other things.
It’s back to Obsess-O-Tron 6000, where nothing matters but the learning of the beat. Much is learned, but not much is written in these weeks. The marriage suffers. The gyno says “are you sure you’re not anorexic?”
Ultimately, I want to raise a cow on a farm and then slaughter it for dinner.
Other than that, you know everything else.
It’s time for more tequila blanco.
I’ll talk about the rest of it later.
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