Just caught this over at AoSHQ:
"If it's about the lives of my soldiers at stake, I'd go through hell with a gasoline can." - Lt. Col. Allen West
Meet the action MAN with the action plan. We need more heroes like Lt. Colonel West.
Granny grab your gun! Especially if you are in the military. Enquiring minds want to know. . .
Beatrice sent me an email this morning, with a link to the following blog. I haven't Snoped this for validity, but on the surface, sadly, it appears to be legitimate.
Chilling. . .
And a very special Easter indeed.
With the rescue of Captain Richard Phillips this could not be a more fortunate Easter for all involved; his family, our armed forces and the United States of America.
For the Somali pirates, well, not such a Happy Easter.
I refuse to give thanks to pizza boy Obama at this point because he has yet to come out publicly and say anything. I cringe to think of what his public response will be and should he make a strong, confident and "ego-less" statement, well then thanks goes to him also.
God bless our military, the families of those involved and to our beloved United States. We should all be proud and hopefully the world with take heed that we will not be bullied by ignorant goat-humping turds in wooden boats.
Dear World,
In light of recent anti-American events such as our election, trying to whack our president in the face with a shoe and the exclusion of the United States of America from a Latin American Summit, which will host Russia, Iran, and China, all friends of the world I assure you, let me just say one thing to you, the unwashed masses of Planet Earth:
FUCK YOU!
The United States of America has spent the last 200 years bailing out countless numbers of countries just like you. Iraq, Korea, Afghanistan, Panama, Somalia, France, Germany, Poland, Italy, Algeria, Egypt, Turkey, Samoa. You name it and we've probably been there to set things straight, to straighten you out, to fix your problems whether you like it or not.
Oh yes, we imperialists, we occupiers, we crusaders, how dare we police the world, what business is it of ours?
To the slovenly of the world I declare that it becomes our business when your business infringes on ours!
You see, unlike the savage beasts of the Middle East or despotic rulers Africa or unruly religious zealots of Pakistan and other places with a disdain for life and freedom, we've learned to live together and prosper. We've managed to leave behind the savagery and butchering of the Dark Ages for a comfortable, pleasant and free lifestyle that foments creativity, efficiency and the love of life and living. We've invented and built most of the modern technologies that make our world a better place and shared them with everyone. We've even flown men to the moon and landed robots on other planets. Anyone from the lawless tribal region of Pakistan ever do that?
We don't saw heads off people, indoctrinate women into strapping bombs to themselves, starve our people intentionally, nor do we crush public outcry or dissent(unless it becomes violent), and we don't randomly rape and torture, in fact, we are the most caring and generous country in the world.
In 2005, we donated the equivalent of almost 1.7% of our total economy to the world. Yes, it makes for a lot of zeros. And while I am it, Mississippians in particular are VERY generous. In 2005, we were the most giving state in the nation. The least? New Hampshire. Go figure, but that's an argument for another day. Even last year, I donated more money than Joe Biden, our dunderheaded, soon-to-be vice-president.
We're not war-mongers, unless we have to be and yes, unfortunately for us and the bad guys of the world, we are the world police. Constantly spat upon, castigated by our own media, lambasted by every fringe minority group, but really, who would you rather have policing the world? Russia? Iran? The Hutus and Tutsis from the Congo?
Yes, our bombs kill. Our guns maim. And our men fight to the death. But it is without malice. It is with pride for our way of life, it is with the sense of duty that an all-volunteer force goes to battle when called. We are not blood-thirsty killers and frankly, most of those kids fighting for freedom would rather be at home playing Ninetendo and/or chasing girls. We go because we have to, and we can be relied upon by the jellybacked, nimrodic countries who lack the wherewithal or desire to quell persecution when necessary. In other words, those that lack the balls to fight.
We've learned to live peaceably, to respect one another for our differences, to allow for opinion or dissension. We've nearly perfected it. I say nearly, because we are not perfect. There are defects in every society, but we've modeled a society far more advanced than anything imaginable. Admired and envied by most.
We don't go looking for a fight and much prefer to mind our own business. It people like you, the savage underbelly, the undomesticated purity of the violent animal brain who send us calling. And we call hard. With bombs and death, with tears in our eyes as our war machine grinds you to bits and spits you out.
It could be much easier for you if you would simply stop. Stop it. Stop with the raping, the pillaging, the subjugation of the weak, the persecution of the different. Allow yourselves to be free because freewill is the only God-given right that humankind has. And only man can take it away.
Personally, I'll be glad when the United States is second place in the world. We can button up our borders, park our warships off the coast and thumb our nose at everyone else when the planet goes to hell in a handbasket.
It will be our quiet day to shine. Shining and reveling through our own inaction.
And you?
Well, you'll just be getting what you deserve. And when you come sniveling to us for help, we won't look down our nose at you with contempt or scorn. We, the compassionate people of the United States of America, will pull up our bootstraps, muster our forces, and once again march into the fire with the hopes of setting the world straight one more time. It is our moral obligation. Which is something the rest of the world lacks.
God Bless America and her mighty military.
Sincerely,
Burnt Toast
P.S. Yes nimrods, I know nimrodic is not a word. Thank you for your grammatical concern.
I was trying to think of something witty to say after reading this article, but my words will add nothing to further the point.
I'll simply say, for those of you who read the above article and do not feel an immense welling up of pride for our fighting men and women, do not deserve to breathe in the crisp air of freedom that these brave people, like many before them, are fighting and dying for. They pay the price each day, sometimes the ultimate price for you to play pretend commie and dress up in pink only to commiserate your perceived ills of the world with marginal enemies of the United States. In other words, fuck you and God Bless America and her mighty military!
. . .are worth a thousand words.
Some are worth a duotrigintillion or two.
Some are unbelievable and others are simply awe inspiring.
Thanks to Big Daddy Don for the tipage.
Today is Veteran's Day and for those of you who don't know what it means, here is a word for word email from my friend Brian (Brain from Ubon's) about Veteran's Day:
I do not have a forum for this like you do. I have never told you this, but my family has a longstanding tradition of military service. If you don’t mind, I would like you to honor them on this most special of days.
My Uncle Bill Webb – US Army – served in Desert Storm I.
My Brother Mark Campbell – US Army – served in Desert Storm I.
My Cousin Dallas Allbritton – US Army – he has not been to a “real” war, but he is just a couple of years short of having his 20 years in with the National Guard.
My Cousin Scott Smira – US Air Force – he just got back from Kosovo, but he spent 1 ½ years in various countries.
My Cousin Kevin Smira – US Army – Somolia.
Our Friend Scott Welch – US Air Force – who is serving in the present Iraqi war
And finally, my Great Uncle Captain Harry White – US Army – World War II.
Let me tell you a story about Captain Harry White. He was my grandmother’s only brother, and he is the reason that I have the place to live on that I do. My great grandfather Percy White bought the land that we now know as the River Place because he wanted a farm for his son to raise registered shorthorn cattle on. The barn that is still standing on that place was built in 1937 by my great grandfather and Harry. It is made out of oak boards that were transported from the back of the property by oxen.
When World War II broke out, Harry White joined the Army. Harry White had a college education and a job. He was also an only son, so he could have avoided the draft if he wanted to. He didn’t care, he joined the Army to fight for his country. He was sent to the Phillippines. From December 8 – 10, Japanese forces took over airfields in the Phillippines. To make a long story short, on March 22, 1942, Douglas MacArthur was flown to Australia . He then wired the people of the Phillippines that “he shall return”. Sadly, he was wrong. On April 9, 1942, General King surrendered US and Phillippine troops to the Japanese, against MacArthur’s orders.
My Great Uncle, Captain Harry White, was in the middle of all this. He marched in the Bataan Death March. Emaciated, sick, starving. On October 7, 1942, Captain Harry White died for his country in a Japanese prison camp. A POW. We do not know the details. We do have a small journal that was returned to us. You can tell by the writing as the days go by that he was getting weaker and weaker. Captain Harry White is buried at the Manila American Cemetary in the Phillippines. Please remember him and all that are like him. A great American who died for us. Never had a wife, never had a kid, never really ever had a house that he could call his own.
Unselfishly. Went. And died. For us.
POW’s, MIA’s, Veterans……………….
Never forget….
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