Watching
draft dodging crypto-fascist cartoons like Ann Coulter
on television all the time reminds me of what it
really means to be a Patriot. Back in the day I
used to wear dirty green tree suits to help keep
the country safe from Nicaraguans like Danny Ortega
who were doing better imitation Provisional Sinn
Fein than Provisional Sinn Fein. Or at least that’s
what we were told. Hence our mission.
Soon
after picking up the usual convicts from the County
pen work release program to keep our company numbers
up, we weekend warriors, pedophiles and all, headed
to the local hills to train on Humvees with rotating
TOW missiles. Since the missiles cost $10,000.00
a throw, the Army instead gave us three or four
of these little 15 cent plastic confetti-less New
Year’s eve champagne poppers to wire into the
back end of the missile launching tubes. That way
when we squeezed the trigger we’d hear a pop
that was supposed to simulate the sound of a missile
being fired off. Oh the memories!
Usually
after three Euchre shouts in the woods waiting for
some Tank Company to start their field maneuvers
we’d form mobile echelon right or left passes
with our Humvees while aiming our missile poppers
at the tanks. Problem was though we almost always
fired off our simulators out of sheer boredom while
waiting in the woods for the drive-an-hour-fix-an-hour
tanks. Soon we’d hear our not-to-be-taken too
seriously Company Commander shouting over the radio
demanding to know why he hadn’t heard any popping
going off. When told we were out he’d always
shout back: "Well, simulate the simulators
damn it…there commies everywhere."
And
there we’d be, me driving half a million dollars
worth of inert equipment and machinery while some
child molesting shit heel from Sheboygan rode shot
gun shouting "Bang…your dead" like
a nine year old playing cowboys and Indians. Before
long we’d make a few cavalier passes at the
typically stationary tanks on our way back to the
woods to shout Euchre some more and await further
orders…which funny enough usually came around
dinnertime… to go to chow. The planning was
always brilliant.
No
doubt the Sandinistas must have been quaking in
their boots at the thought of us minding their southern
border with Honduras. Just the thought of our work
release program alone would’ve scared them
shitless. And you thought the Dirty Dozen was just
a movie. No wonder people like Ann Coulter credit
Ronald Reagan for bringing down Communism. Putting
our convicts in military uniform even scared me.
I just thanked God for rear view mirrors and prayed
for ammunition.
What
more important things Dick Cheney had to do though
is beyond me but I can almost understand why George
Jr. Bush disserted the National Guard. A fellow
could have gone deaf fighting all those imaginary
Nicaraguans and besides not all jeeps were equipped
with rear view mirrors. But why this Jody in drag
Ann Coulter (who never put her skinny ass on the
Patriot’s chopping block) gets away with calling
people treasonous just because they disagree with
her war whooping is truly a mark of how far or how
little we have come depending upon your perspective.
That’s
the beauty of free speech or it ought to be anyway.
I say libel (and make no money) and she says slander
(and makes lots of money…in service to power
of course). However, I can at least say I played
cards for my country, and she can’t. So there,
but surely she has the right like your man Hurley
to protest or dissent (in their mind anyway) as
he or she sees fit. And if not here on The Blanket
which functions as an Irish Republican free speech
forum then where? Didn’t Wolfe Tone say: “Catholic,
Protestant and Dissenter”? And doesn’t
the home page of The Blanket say: “Journal
of Protest and Dissent”? The word “and”
being the conjunctive. It’s not always easy
but there it is stimulation, not simulation.
Curiously,
neither Ann Coulter or I would ever get published
in An Phoblact because despite our divergent
views we don’t conform to that narrowly permitted
spectrum of mutually supporting ideological opinion
that is given space there.
One
man’s meat is surely another man’s poison.
Where I see dumb ass Army absurdity, Ann Coulter
sees lean mean green fighting machines. Where I
see surrender, Gerry Adams sees tactical maneuvering.
Where I see lies and euphemism, PSF sees complications
and nuance…or at least that’s what they’d
tell you. And as much as we may not like Gerry Adams
or Ann Coulter, they’re entitled to their opinions
no matter how devious or dishonest we think or know
they are. And that means permitting them and others
space even if they would never permit you same.
To
do otherwise is to simulate discussion like An
Phoblacht which is about as useful as simulating
the simulators.
