Monday, April 24, 2006

The Working Class Dies For Harper

Turner, a Canada Post letter carrier stationed in Edmonton, and Mansell, a carpenter, were two of the more than 400 reservists currently serving in Afghanistan. Fallen Canadian soldiers begin long journey home

No flags lowered, Harper won't show up when the body bags return to Canadian Forces Base Trenton. All this is still just a rich mans war.

No need to tell us how we are being protected from Osama bin Laden Inc., all we are doing is protecting the Caspian oil pipeline and its counterpart the Opium pipeline.

And our volunteer reserves, ordinary Joes and Janes working full time and being soldiers part time are being sacrificed on the altar of the Harpocrites political ego. His failure to show up for their funeral shows he is more chicken than hawk when it comes to facing his responsibilities of sending our military to war.

As the troops on both sides of the conflict in WWI learned, there is no honor in dying for the capitalists and their war machine. But I guess Harper never read Johnny Got His Gun in school.

There's nothing noble about dying. Not even if you die for honor. Not even if you die the greatest hero the world ever saw. Not even if you're so great your name will never be forgotten and who's that great? The most important thing is your life little guys. You're worth nothing dead except for speeches. Don't let them kid you any more. Pay no attention when they tap you on the shoulder and say come along we've got to fight for liberty or whatever their word is there's always a word.

Just say mister I'm sorry I got no time to die I'm too busy and then turn and run like hell. If they say coward why don't pay any attention because it's your job to live not to die. If they talk about dying for principles that are bigger than life you say mister you're a liar Nothing is bigger than life There's nothing noble in death. What s noble about lying in the ground and rotting. What's noble about never seeing the sunshine again? What's noble about having your legs and arms blown off? What's noble about being an idiot? What's noble about being blind and deaf and dumb? What's noble about being dead. Because when you're dead mister it's all over. It's the end. You're less than a dog less than a rat less than a bee or an ant less than a white maggot crawling around on a dungheap. You're dead mister and you died for nothing.

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1 comment:

danny said...

Hi eugene
god blog, good to know that there are likeminds out there.
keep it up.