Right. Wars our kids are sent to fight in the name of My God is better than Your God and oh yeah my stuff’s my stuff but ALSO, your stuff’s my stuff. Now give it!(supposedly), because he who holds the oil controls the game, and that other guy has more than me so gotta get it because profits and my basic human rights so there!

They remind me of spoiled children. The ones whose parents never told them no. Ironic that by and large, it’s not THEIR kids over there dying to pay the electric bill on those dollar signs in their eyes. Because mysteriously, the offspring of the bloodthirstiest happened to magically end up hardcore pacifists and never see battle. “Junior really wanted to enlist in the Air Force, but his mother and I felt his gifts could be better utilized if he finished law school and joined the practice. He plans to work with returning soldiers in some capacity once he’s done.”

Waiver? Check.

But wasn’t Junior setting his sights on that Federal Prosecutor seat?

What? Huh? You’re breaking up, Bob! I can’t hea----------(dial tone)---------

Tada! No bloodshed in Junior’s future!

Well. Unless he’s “on safari” (wink, wink).

It’s 4am. I may have wandered off into Paranoia County there for a bit and totally lost track of the point.


I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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