-Caveat Lector- >>>AT WorldNetDaily, an article was posted, "On to Baghdad" (URL AT bottom). These are my thoughts that I shared with the author. A<>E<>R <<<
------- Forwarded message follows ------- Isn't this an interesting thing about words: "On to ... " means pretty much the same as "Off to [Baghdad, the races, et cetera] ... " Anyway, we've got this whole war thing upside down. Isn't it a sort of perversion that people spend so much time and effort raising their kids to be productive members of society -- educated, socialised, family-oriented, reverent, thrifty, and all that? "Perverse? But those are admirable traits!!!" you might exclaim. "What kind of whacko are you to write me this, this, this ... abominable abomination!" Yes, "perverse" and there is no other word for it. Of course, I'm a child of the 1950ies, a Cold War boomer baby and educated through the 1960ies and 1970ies. And I was not a fortunate son. But I wasn't drafted but I did enlist later on (beating the state at its own game! Ha!). Yes, "perversion" and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. And more line and the pole and the reel. Almost got to bite at the hand that was feedin' me, too. We spend oddles and kaboodles of time, effort, and money to bring each child to their prime, young adulthood. Then we elect (or select) leaders who think up these interesting policies, many of which -- lately -- entail going off to to some distant land to show these leaders' "muscle". Yes, they all volunteered to have children then their children volunteered to become subject to the leaders' need to flex their "muscles" (if only all the leaders could be as specific as Bill-Jeff Blythe-Clinton as to which muscle is most enjoyably flexed (but this is all about impotence or cuckoldry anyway, in the end, isn't it?)). So, for example, "W" decides we need a War on Terrorism and then we have to bomb and rape an pillage and plunder (trite but true) some place like Aghanland that has not known the absence of war for who knows how long (well, that goes for Iraq, too, but the rules are different for the Cradle of Civilisation). Salt in the wound. But so what? A quick telephone call goes to the Chairman, Joint Chiefs who then relays the orders down the chain, plans are pulled off of shelves, more calls made, bases and posts and formations and armadas are set to a-scurryin'. "Let the younguns show how strong we are," they all sing out an a-capellan cacophonous chorus. "Send our best and brightest, those in whom we invest our moneys and our values, those who hold the best hope for the future." Yes, send in the younguns. This is where it becomes plainly perverse, upside down, where the side that never seen no sunshine exposes itself, like a black hole, sucking energy and matter and mind and spirit into an infinite maelstrom, around - around - around and down ... and out. The equal and oppostie reaction to a hard-boiled egg and dark beer fart; bad enough when it comes out but just think of it going back in. It's time change the established order. The old men and women want to make war, they tell us. But they go to the young men and women to serve as their proxies for this, this orgy of vaicariation, this initiation into the cult of the blood lust. Oops! No more! If the leaders want to make war ... Bush (41 and 43), Blythe-Clinton, Wolfowitz, Perle, Rummy, and any of the other old and addled, they get to go themselves. And, what will be nice about this is they get to not only relive their youths, when they was arm chair generals, but now they get to take to the field. And all the leaders from the warmaking branches of government get to get outfitted in their plume bedecked pork-pie hats, their polyester leisure suit uniforms with the mystery metal ornaments, mystery mettle adorements, and their snake-skin pointy- toed combat boots. Shoot, we've got it all; we've even got generals who have a bonafide tin-foil covered cardboard replicas of real swords. "On-ward, off-ward!", they can command. And the Britlanders will know exactly what to do. There will be the requisite cries of "Foul!" and "Unfair!" from the old men and women. "I'm not in shape!," says one. "I'm too fat," says another. "But I have my retirement ahead of me," says a third. And then and there we find out that all their kids were ever worth were deductions on about two decades worth of tax returns. The kids were really meant to be used for expense accounts and to later be sacrificed at the altars of Mars, the eternal God of War, the deity of the War Parties, the deity of the Imperial Globalists. To sate the martial Mars, all things red must be devoted to it. Offers are made of endless streams of blood, the life-force eternal, vital, renewable, transferable, immutable in its sacredness. "But I am a Christian!", a lonely voice speaks out above the throng. "I conscientiously object on the words of the Master! 'The meek shall inherit the Earth.' 'Blessed are the peacemakers.' Read them for yourself; they too are red! The Master spilled his own blood so that no others' blood should be spilled." The elders ponder briefly on this point. Like a shooting star, the lone one's words illumine the darkness of their spirits. But, alas, they are plunged back into the depths of their almost opaque souls. "We have the Master's blood, we do." They then turn to a favourite ritual, devouring the transubstantial essences of the Master, savouring each drop of blood and each morsel of flesh as they join with the deity, sacrificing their god's son to the god of glory and power. The lonely voice is then banished to the wilderness of reason. But, but, I've perverted the glorious message? By telling truths? If it was any other way, only if it was, the older men and the older women would gladly sacrifice their lives to protect their young. One observation about war is how opposing armies can go at each other with such ferocity, how one army can be so vicious and brutal while its opponent can be so honourable and charitable. Yet, this is too far along the process. Blame is always assigned to the lettres farthest from "A", when it is at that lettre that the problems always begin. Another observation notes that "mankind" is the only species that turns on itself, and not only in wars, but in all facets of life. Even Freud tried to establish a very basic need for fathers and sons to duke it out (and the fathers found a sneaky, devious, diabolical way to win!). Were it not a truth that war is a vital part of the human spiritual quest, the words of the Master would be not only mouthed by the billions of "believers" but lived. Was it ever necessary for conflicts to arise, parents would spare their children. "Too old" or "too fat" or "too unfit" wouldn't matter; they'd be closer to the ends of their lives anyway, spared the jaundices, the ischemias, the dimentias, and the scleroses. Spared the worries about Social Security and prescription drug plans. Perversion? How much more so can it be when parents willingly sacrifice their sons in the name of the god of Abraham ... but wasn't Abraham who was tested and then taught NOT to sacrifice his son (Gen 22)? Wasn't it the god of Abraham that taught the World that only he can sacrifice his OWN son? And yet, is it the followers of this same god, the Judahists, the Nazarites, and the Mohammedan (J-N-Ms), who just don't wanna get it? (Or do they just like Mars better, red being such a lovely colour, and so good for the fertility of the ground?) But we know they have appointed themselves "G*D". Crossed fingers. So, on to or off to Baghdad. Either way it's the same thing, the same old thing. You'd a-thunk by now that a real "New World Order", that Hitlerian paradigm, would have overcome the inconsistencies of war-fighting, the sacrificing of the new, the coming future to the old, the bygone past, allowing humanity to age, withering, twisted, and painfully so. But traditions are traditions, I suppose. Thank you for your article. A<>E<>R Red River Rouser of the North (Your article at: http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=27320) Integrity has no need of rules. -Albert Camus (1913-1960) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. -Marcel Proust ------- End of forwarded message ------ <A HREF="http://www.ctrl.org/";>www.ctrl.org</A> DECLARATION & DISCLAIMER ========== CTRL is a discussion & informational exchange list. Proselytizing propagandic screeds are unwelcomed. Substance—not soap-boxing—please! These are sordid matters and 'conspiracy theory'—with its many half-truths, mis- directions and outright frauds—is used politically by different groups with major and minor effects spread throughout the spectrum of time and thought. That being said, CTRLgives no endorsement to the validity of posts, and always suggests to readers; be wary of what you read. CTRL gives no credence to Holocaust denial and nazi's need not apply. Let us please be civil and as always, Caveat Lector. ======================================================================== Archives Available at: http://peach.ease.lsoft.com/archives/ctrl.html <A HREF="http://peach.ease.lsoft.com/archives/ctrl.html";>Archives of [EMAIL PROTECTED]</A> http:[EMAIL PROTECTED]/ <A HREF="http:[EMAIL PROTECTED]/";>ctrl</A> ======================================================================== To subscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SUBSCRIBE CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] To UNsubscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SIGNOFF CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] Om
