Bozvotros
Bozvotros's JournalJust like agent orange
20 years must be the accepted maximum amount of time our government has learned it can sit on a mountain of data about criminal negligence or callous indifference towards our own troops. It took awhile but we finally learned that Monsanto knew and our military commanders knew dioxin was a mutagenic, neurotoxic carcinogen right from the beginning. They went full bore ahead anyway.
Of course they fucking knew the risks of bombing nerve gas sites and god knows what other deadly substances we helped them build. They didn't care. They did it all out and lied because it would blemish their perfect little fix for the Vietnam syndrome... remember?
And now its depleted uranium dust and toxic gases from massive burn pits that will claim the life and future of this latest group of vets. But of course there isn't any real proof of that......
And for what? Somebody give me a reason, a good fucking reason any of these last three wars had to take place or why it was worth destroying the futures of those men lucky enough to survive.
Romney starts over
Romney starting over from the beginning.
?w=262
"If I did it once I can do it again" said a somewhat disheveled and pathetic Romney at his new job. His wife Ann was inside behind the counter quietly crying, telling customers to eat cake and slipping 20's into her bra. The floor was littered with torn up home redecorating magazines and pictures of Michelle Obama. She fired up a cigarette beneath the "No smoking" sign and gave the finger to her huckster husband outside.
Mitt's sons, Tab, Biff and Powie pulled in one by one in their Euro-trash sports cars and made dad give them a fill-up while they laughed and brandished money to impress the hookers they had riding shotgun. No one went in to see Ann. They knew better. An old friend watched silently at the pathos. As the son's squealed away, Romney began dousing himself with fuel.
"Uh, Mitt? the friend said carefully, "Don't be so hard on yourself. You never really started like this. Your Dad gave you a million bucks and his friends gave you a leg up. You just were good at destroying perfectly good companies and filling your pockets. It's OK you lost the election and can't even pump gas competently."
Mitt looked up, his face full of sorrow and wet with gasoline and newly diluted grease from the oily pomade that used to slick back his heavily dyed hair. "You think maybe I don't need to immolate myself?"
"That's right, Mitt, you're just a chiseling rich bastard like me, nothing wrong with that," his friend said earnestly.
The front door of the convenience mart opened and Ann walked out, obviously shaken and irritable from drinking a case of 5 hour energy and downing a rack of Krispy Kremes. She had a lit cigarette in her mouth and removed it slowly, eying the two friends who began backing away. ""You got that insurance paid up Mitty?" she said holding the butt in flick position in her trembling hands.
"No" said Mitt shakily. "Liar" she said flatly, "I paid it myself this morning." The cigarette took flight.
Profile Information
Name: James Crackcorn (I don't care)Gender: Male
Hometown: Anytown
Home country: Just browsing
Current location: On the Ramparts
Member since: 2002
Number of posts: 785
