busybody..
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2002
- Posts
- 149,503
Courage
I'm not a hero.
That is to say, I don't think of myself that way. I don't seek out danger. I'm not the type of guy who is always looking for the next adrenaline rush, or the latest thrill sport. I generally avoid dangerous activities.
I'm not a coward, either.
I'm not fearless. I realize, every day that I am here, that my life is in danger.
There is no way to avoid this conclusion. I'm told to wear body armor and a helmet. I carry a weapon. We build fortifications. I lug a pack full of chemical protection gear everywhere I go. I've received so many shots, I feel like a pincushion. Sometimes, when I have a moment or two to think about it, I feel a little bit scared. Frankly, only an idiot would not be afraid under these circumstances.
But I do have courage.
Courage is not the absence of fear. To the contrary, courage involves recognizing danger, but acting on the realization that danger must be confronted -- or it will find you when you are least prepared.
I didn't come here looking for a thrill.
I'm here because there is a hole in the ground in New York, where a couple of the world's tallest buildings used to be.
I'm here because I knew some of those people in the Pentagon.
I'm here because my seven-year-old nephew has nightmares about terrorists.
I'm here because whether Saddam is responsible or not for those terrorist attacks, he has the will and is developing the means to do much, much worse.
I'm here because if History teaches us anything, it is that evil men cannot be deterred by sanctions, containment strategies, diplomacy, resolutions, or weapons inspections.
I'm here because I don't believe in appeasement.
I'm here because someone has to be.
I'm here because I was called.
I'm here because I have a job to do.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Welcome to "The Show"
Hey Saddam,
They say you want to be a big-time player. You want to dominate your neighborhood. You want to run with the big boys.
You think you've got game? I think you're out of your league, Big Guy. They say you've got Smallpox. Guess what? I've been innoculated. Anthrax? Same story. Nerve gas? I've got the antidote. Mustard Gas? I've got the best chemical, biological, and radiological defense gear on the market. Bring it on.
You've got missiles? So do we. We've got state-of-the-art theater defense missiles that can easily swat down your 1960's era Soviet rejects. We can destroy any square meter of your territory that we choose. What's the precision of those SCUDS, about five kilometers? We can fly ours through your bedroom window.
What're you going to do, bomb me? Better make sure your Air Force is on the same page, pal. Last time around, if memory serves, most of them that had enough balls to take off promptly turned east and hit the afterburners, not stopping until they reached Iranian airspace. Somehow, I'm not concerned.
And what about your vaunted Army? Are they going to run away again, or surrender en masse? Those that actually stood and fought last time didn't live to tell the tale. For that matter, neither did many of the cowards that tried to run home in their stolen Mercedes. There's a road in Kuwait that serves as a monument to their cowardice and greed. They still call it "The Highway of Death" to this day. It's a tourist attraction now.
Oh, I imagine you'll probably try for a reprise of your "scorched earth" retreat, lighting oil wells on fire like a teen-aged pyromaniac throwing a temper tantrum. You crippled the economy of Kuwait for what, three months? Ouch.
They say you're trying to build nukes. We have some of those. Don't even think about it, unless you want to get into the glass business.
I heard a rumor that you were making friends with terrorists. Ask the Taliban in Afghanistan what the Americans do to nation states that harbor scum like Bin Laden. On second thought, don't bother -- that phone line went dead over a year ago.
You think picking on your neighbors and subjugating your people makes you a big man? Sometimes I wonder what inadequacy you might be compensating for. You want to play in the Major Leagues? Here's a news flash: the Yankees are on your front porch, suited up and ready to rock.
COME OUT AND PLAY.
----------------------------------------------
Diplomacy
To tell the truth, I'm not looking forward to war. While I'm certain that we will prevail and that the Slimeball in Iraq will be crushed like a snail under a Mack truck, I would be more than happy to go home having never fired a single shot in anger. War is messy. Things will get broken and people will die, including some innocent non-combatants.
Here's my last-minute proposal to avert this conflict. If anyone has the means to forward this offer to Saddam, please do so.
I would like to cordially invite Saddam to come and visit me, in order to discuss alternatives to armed conflict. I would be more than happy to give him a guided tour of the many legions of coalition forces arrayed against him. While this would most certainly provide him with valuable intelligence to launch a potential counter-strike, I believe that once he sees what he's up against he would be forced to admit that there is no way that he can win. Ultimately, he will be defeated.
In the interim, however, many good (and some not so good) people will suffer and die. But it doesn't have to be that way.
If Saddam actually saw, with his own eyes, the forces arrayed against him, he might be convinced to stipulate that we can (and will) kick his ass. There is simply no way that he can avoid the inevitable outcome, once the fighting starts. So why not skip the interim steps, and just accept his defeat graciously? He could retire to the French Riviera, like Baby Doc Duvallier of Haiti. This way, no one has to be permanently maimed, and there will be no new widows and orphans. Think of all the money that we'll all save!
Of course, this is all a fantasy. Saddam doesn't give a hoot about innocent lives lost or destroyed, as his own sordid history illustrates. He also would most likely conclude that I'm much more inclined to ventilate his chest cavity with the 9mm Beretta strapped to my side than to give him a guided tour of our military hardware.
And that conclusion would probably be correct.
I'm not a hero.
That is to say, I don't think of myself that way. I don't seek out danger. I'm not the type of guy who is always looking for the next adrenaline rush, or the latest thrill sport. I generally avoid dangerous activities.
I'm not a coward, either.
I'm not fearless. I realize, every day that I am here, that my life is in danger.
There is no way to avoid this conclusion. I'm told to wear body armor and a helmet. I carry a weapon. We build fortifications. I lug a pack full of chemical protection gear everywhere I go. I've received so many shots, I feel like a pincushion. Sometimes, when I have a moment or two to think about it, I feel a little bit scared. Frankly, only an idiot would not be afraid under these circumstances.
But I do have courage.
Courage is not the absence of fear. To the contrary, courage involves recognizing danger, but acting on the realization that danger must be confronted -- or it will find you when you are least prepared.
I didn't come here looking for a thrill.
I'm here because there is a hole in the ground in New York, where a couple of the world's tallest buildings used to be.
I'm here because I knew some of those people in the Pentagon.
I'm here because my seven-year-old nephew has nightmares about terrorists.
I'm here because whether Saddam is responsible or not for those terrorist attacks, he has the will and is developing the means to do much, much worse.
I'm here because if History teaches us anything, it is that evil men cannot be deterred by sanctions, containment strategies, diplomacy, resolutions, or weapons inspections.
I'm here because I don't believe in appeasement.
I'm here because someone has to be.
I'm here because I was called.
I'm here because I have a job to do.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Welcome to "The Show"
Hey Saddam,
They say you want to be a big-time player. You want to dominate your neighborhood. You want to run with the big boys.
You think you've got game? I think you're out of your league, Big Guy. They say you've got Smallpox. Guess what? I've been innoculated. Anthrax? Same story. Nerve gas? I've got the antidote. Mustard Gas? I've got the best chemical, biological, and radiological defense gear on the market. Bring it on.
You've got missiles? So do we. We've got state-of-the-art theater defense missiles that can easily swat down your 1960's era Soviet rejects. We can destroy any square meter of your territory that we choose. What's the precision of those SCUDS, about five kilometers? We can fly ours through your bedroom window.
What're you going to do, bomb me? Better make sure your Air Force is on the same page, pal. Last time around, if memory serves, most of them that had enough balls to take off promptly turned east and hit the afterburners, not stopping until they reached Iranian airspace. Somehow, I'm not concerned.
And what about your vaunted Army? Are they going to run away again, or surrender en masse? Those that actually stood and fought last time didn't live to tell the tale. For that matter, neither did many of the cowards that tried to run home in their stolen Mercedes. There's a road in Kuwait that serves as a monument to their cowardice and greed. They still call it "The Highway of Death" to this day. It's a tourist attraction now.
Oh, I imagine you'll probably try for a reprise of your "scorched earth" retreat, lighting oil wells on fire like a teen-aged pyromaniac throwing a temper tantrum. You crippled the economy of Kuwait for what, three months? Ouch.
They say you're trying to build nukes. We have some of those. Don't even think about it, unless you want to get into the glass business.
I heard a rumor that you were making friends with terrorists. Ask the Taliban in Afghanistan what the Americans do to nation states that harbor scum like Bin Laden. On second thought, don't bother -- that phone line went dead over a year ago.
You think picking on your neighbors and subjugating your people makes you a big man? Sometimes I wonder what inadequacy you might be compensating for. You want to play in the Major Leagues? Here's a news flash: the Yankees are on your front porch, suited up and ready to rock.
COME OUT AND PLAY.
----------------------------------------------
Diplomacy
To tell the truth, I'm not looking forward to war. While I'm certain that we will prevail and that the Slimeball in Iraq will be crushed like a snail under a Mack truck, I would be more than happy to go home having never fired a single shot in anger. War is messy. Things will get broken and people will die, including some innocent non-combatants.
Here's my last-minute proposal to avert this conflict. If anyone has the means to forward this offer to Saddam, please do so.
I would like to cordially invite Saddam to come and visit me, in order to discuss alternatives to armed conflict. I would be more than happy to give him a guided tour of the many legions of coalition forces arrayed against him. While this would most certainly provide him with valuable intelligence to launch a potential counter-strike, I believe that once he sees what he's up against he would be forced to admit that there is no way that he can win. Ultimately, he will be defeated.
In the interim, however, many good (and some not so good) people will suffer and die. But it doesn't have to be that way.
If Saddam actually saw, with his own eyes, the forces arrayed against him, he might be convinced to stipulate that we can (and will) kick his ass. There is simply no way that he can avoid the inevitable outcome, once the fighting starts. So why not skip the interim steps, and just accept his defeat graciously? He could retire to the French Riviera, like Baby Doc Duvallier of Haiti. This way, no one has to be permanently maimed, and there will be no new widows and orphans. Think of all the money that we'll all save!
Of course, this is all a fantasy. Saddam doesn't give a hoot about innocent lives lost or destroyed, as his own sordid history illustrates. He also would most likely conclude that I'm much more inclined to ventilate his chest cavity with the 9mm Beretta strapped to my side than to give him a guided tour of our military hardware.
And that conclusion would probably be correct.
