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Sep 1, 2005, 5:56:42 AM9/1/05
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It's getting a bit tiresome seeing one misguided American after another with
their cutsie little yellow or red-white-blue ribbons on their outsized SUVs.
Yeah, I guess it's the thing to do; maybe part of that whole soccer-mom
culture. Unfortunately, the only thing they demonstrate is that the person
behind the wheel is a clueless, gullible, misguided, nitwit.

If foreign invaders landed on our soil, as we have done in Iraq, I would be
the first one to take up arms and repel them. (I suppose that would make me
an 'insurgent' by OUR logic.) This, and other aggressive governments have
always done their utmost to make it APPEAR as if committing yourself to kill
in feuds on distant shores that have nothing to do with the welfare of the
citizenry is somehow patriotic.

It is not.

Enlisting in the armed forces, in the absence of a real and impending
foreign threat, is no different that hiring yourself as a paid assassin . .
the only difference is, you're not getting paid enough. But let's take a
realistic look at exactly WHO joins up in an all-volunteer army.

The first group are those who join (during peacetime) for the benefits: to
get an education, or because it seems a reasonable career path. Consider
carefully! Realize that you are gambling with your humanity. Once you sign
that form, you sign away your right to say: "No, that is an atrocity." You
put your abilities, including the ability to kill, at the disposal of proven
liars, psychopaths . . . enemies of humanity. Do you think that every German
soldier in World War II who helped load Jews into cattle cars was a
cold-blooded killer? Most were poor kids, just like you, who got caught up
in the patriotic frenzy. Once you're in, you're IN. You lose the ability to
stop killing until they tell you so. This not only makes you less than
human, it makes you less than an animal, for even the animals retain their
freedom of self determination.

The second group are the simple minded, who fall for patriotic entreaties
about defending democracy, Mom, apple pie; in other words, all the
traditional government propaganda. Do you think Soviet lads subjugated their
neighbors throughout the world because they thought the Soviet Union was an
EVIL empire? No, they were fighting for MOM, and whatever passes for apple
pie in Russia. Step back and examine the lies your government is handing
you, and ask yourself if they have the ring of truth. Do you want to be one
of the murderers in uniform who opened up on their fellow citizens at Kent
State? When you put on that uniform, you give up all autonomy, and become
nothing more than a weapon, to be used for whatever evil purposes the
scoundrels in government demand (and, if you look carefully, you will
discover that the only interests THEY serve are those of the big businesses
that own them.)

Finally, you have the hard-core psychopaths. These are the people who WANT
to kill. Murder, torture, rape; THESE are the American values upon which
THIS group is focused. The cause doesn't matter, they're after the thrill
that only warfare can provide.

Just remember: killing for George W. Bush, or for George H.W. Bush, or for
Lyndon B. Johnson, or for Richard M. Nixon is not the same as defending
yourself, your family, your friends, or your country. Don't be a dupe. Don't

Remember -- supporting the troops means supporting Bush aggression,
profiteering, and war crimes. Here's an idea: why not take those ribbons,
dip them in blood, and mail them to the White House?

- --
Tom St.Denis

111 Banning Rd
Kanata, Ontario
K2L 1C3

Home: (613)836-3160
Cell: (613)796-8220
KeyID: 0x40B640D5
Fingerprint: 53F9 307F F83E D52A 9E63
C2A5 B43F D952 40B6 40D5

Version: PGP 8.0.3


Oct 27, 2005, 7:00:45 PM10/27/05
do ye think ye are? May be ye think ye'r a gentleman
master, Tom, to be a telling your master what's right, and what ain't!
So you pretend it's wrong to flog the gal!"

"I think so, Mas'r," said Tom; "the poor crittur's sick and feeble;
't would be downright cruel, and it's what I never will do, nor
begin to. Mas'r, if you mean to kill me, kill me; but, as to my
raising my hand agin any one here, I never shall,--I'll die first!"

Tom spoke in a mild voice, but with a decision that could not
be mistaken. Legree shook with anger; his greenish eyes glared
fiercely, and his very whiskers seemed to curl with passion; but,
like some ferocious beast, that plays with its victim before he
devours it, he kept back his strong impulse to proceed to immediate
violence, and broke out into bitter raillery.

"Well, here's a pious dog, at last, let down among us
sinners!--a saint, a gentleman, and no less, to talk to us sinners
about our sins! Powerful holy critter, he must be! Here, you rascal,
you make believe to be so pious,--didn't you never hear, out of yer
Bible, `Servants, obey yer masters'? An't I yer master? Didn't I
pay down twelve hundred dollars, cash, for all there is inside
yer old cussed black shell? An't yer mine, now, body an

Oct 27, 2005, 5:33:59 PM10/27/05
merely as an implement for
money-making. The place had that ragged, forlorn appearance, which
is always produced by the evidence that the care of the former
owner has been left to go to utter decay.

What was once a smooth-shaven lawn before the house, dotted
here and there with ornamental shrubs, was now covered with frowsy
tangled grass, with horseposts set up, here and there, in it, where
the turf was stamped away, and the ground littered with broken
pails, cobs of corn, and other slovenly remains. Here and there,
a mildewed jessamine or honeysuckle hung raggedly from some ornamental
support, which had been pushed to one side by being used as a
horse-post. What once was a large garden was now all grown over
with weeds, through which, here and there, some solitary exotic
reared its forsaken head. What had been a conservatory had now no
window-shades, and on the mouldering shelves stood some dry, forsaken
flower-pots, with sticks in them, whose dried leaves showed they
had once been plants.

The wagon rolled up a weedy gravel walk, under a noble avenue
of China trees, whose graceful forms and ever-springing foliage
seemed to be the only things there that neglect could not daunt
or alter,--like noble spirits, so deeply rooted in goodness,
as to flourish and grow stronger amid discouragement and decay.

The house had been large and handsome. It was built in a manner
common at the South; a wide verandah of two stories running round
every part of the house, into which every outer door opened, the
lower tier being supported by brick pillars.

But the place looked desolate and uncomfortable; some windows
stopped u

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