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Everything posted by KaBar

  1. Houston Chronicle 5/19/03--"Arson charges are pending against a juvenile accused of torching a set of Union Pacific railroad tracks last week in northeast Harris County. An adult accomplice was being held in the Harris County Jail without bail on felony arson charges after the May 12 incident in the 5900 block of Mary Francis. German White, 18, and the juvenile also are accused of pulling up railroad spikes at the scene and laying a large steel pole across the tracks. Harris County fire marshals said the pair also removed a warning sign alerting Union Pacific railroad crews about nearby intersections. Investigators said White faces up to TWENTY YEARS IN PRISON and a TEN THOUSAND DOLLAR FINE IF CONVICTED OF THE FELONY." Holy shit! I knew I was right when I told you guys to "Leave the railroad's property alone", but I didn't realize the severity of the penalty!
  2. Married to a Blonde Can't say I prefer one coloring over another, except for that. I've always had a weakness for redheads. My first wife was a redhead, with a temperament to match. Of the girls in my life that have been life-long "true loves", one was a curly brunette, one was a long-legged, straight-haired blonde and one was a redhead. I still tend my late ex-wife's grave, secretly. I leave flowers, clean the headstone, trim the grass. I always go on her birthday.
  3. I drink Coke, but I don't really like it. I haven't enjoyed drinking soda pop since they did away with deposit bottles. We used to buy Coca-Cola (in those little green bottles with the name and location of the bottling company on the bottom) and 7-Up and Orange Crush and RC Cola by the case, when I was a kid. My grandparents lived on the Guadalupe River, here in Texas. I think there are very few things as much fun as fishing off my grandfather's dock with a cane pole and a red-and-white plastic bobber and a can of worms, and some short, green bottles of Coke in a bucket of ice. I hate canned soft drinks. They remind me of corporate fascism at it very worst.
  4. Thanks, guys I'm trying to trace a couple of old friends from high school. So far, no luck. It's like they dropped off the face of the earth.
  5. The kid is ELEVEN YEARS OLD She doesn't have any understanding or life experience, she's never spent a hungry day in her life, she's never seen even a fist fight between two suburban head-bangin' skaters, so what can one expect? She's scared shitless of being downtown, and is acting prissy because that's the only defense she has. Send her a copy of "Save the Last Dance." It was a sappy film, but it covers the basics, in a sort of sanitized way. It would be just gritty enough to open her eyes a peek.
  6. I 've seen this portrayed in movies That is, the undercover cop camouflaged as a bum, but I've never seen it in real life. I do not doubt that police detectives occasionally do this sort of thing on narcotics stake-outs or sex-crime stake outs, or even vice squad stake outs, but unless the raiilroad yard is handling some very expensive cargo, it's hard for me to imagine. Tex, Stretch and I got accused of being cops one time at Bellaire Junction by an old homeless woman. She pointed her finger at Tex (who has been riding trains for 31 years) and screeched "You ain't no train rider!" I think Tex was offended, LOL. Like his credentials as a bona fide hobo were being challenged by some toothless old crone. We didnm't stay long, it was a pretty hopeless jungle---garbage everywhere, discarded, wet, dirty clothes, trash in every corner. Not every homeless person is a tramp. There is a difference.
  7. I got a spam advertisement for some sort of detective thing---pretty neat idea, actually. Anybody know of a free one? I'm not into spending $35 so I can track down people I used to know, but a free one would be cool.
  8. Yo, Webster Let me see your skinny ass when you're sixty, fella. You'll be sportin' a beer belly the size of a weather balloon, I bet ya cash money. What? You think the Beach Boys weren't lean and mean in 1962? Sure they were. But NOTHING LASTS FOREVER, and man, I'd give anything to be 25 and carving green room rights at Trestle's again. YOU JUST GET ONE SHOT AT YOUTH. DON'T FUCK IT UP.
  9. LOL. Yoshy, go check out some old early 1960's re-runs of "The Fugitive." Don't you remember the One-Armed Man? He was one scarey guy. And the poor Doc (Dr. Richard Kimble) pursued him all over America, never quite catching up with him, in turn pursued by the relentless detective, Detective Phillip Gerrard. I seem to recall that the One-Armed Man was named something very plain, like Bob Johnson. Did you guys know that "The Fugitive" was loosely based on a true story? ("Mild mannered doctor accused of murdering his wife." Dr. Sam Shepard was accused of murdering his wife, tried and convicted, but the investigation was flawed. The doctor's son worked all his life trying to clear his father's name, and eventually, he did so. But the killer was not a one-armed man, I don't think.)
  10. I read an article that quoted this guy. He reputedly said "It was a couple of days before I realized I could just break my bones and cut through the muscle." Fuckin' HARD CORE. Major props--this guy personifies "Bad Ass." I'd hate like hell to have to fight somebody like this, for real.
  11. How to Unfuck Fucked-up Credit It's easy to get in over your head. The goal is to be DEBT-FREE. First things first. 1.) Do a good assessment of exactly what you owe, the pay-off, the monthly, and the ANNUAL PERCENTAGE RATE. 2.) The highest interest rate gets paid off first. This is because the longer you take paying off some stupid ass credit card with a 24% interest rate, the bigger fucking you are getting. (Twenty-four percent? What the fuck were you thinking, man? Just talking to myself.) 3.) List all debts, highest APR at the top, lowest at the bottom. Put low-low interest, long-term debts like U.S. Government guaranteed school loans, sane real estate deals with a thirty year mortgage, etc. at the very bottom. 4.) Pay the MINIMUM PAYMENT everey month on everything EXCEPT the highest-interest credit card debt. Put EVERY CENT YOU CAN RAISE beyond monthly living expenses on that debt. Forego beer, cigarettes, pizza, etc., etc. Stay home, poke your girlfriend, eat rice and beans, and watch regular TV. It will be so boring you will tell yourself over and over "I will never borrow money again, I will never borrow money again. . ." 5.) Eventually, you will pay off the first (and most expensive) credit card or whatever-the-fuck-it-was. Celebrate by taking the payment you were putting on that debt on Number Two credit card. Now you are making a payment equal to Number One, PLUS the minimum that you were paying on Number Two, all on Number Two. 6.) CUT UP THE NUMBER ONE CARD IN LITTLE PIECES. Go out in the garage and get a small hammer. Put the fingers that signed that STUPID credit card agreement on the work bench. Smack those fingers with the hammer. No! Bad fingers! Never do that again! 7.) When you pay off Number Two, take all that money you were paying on Number One and Number Two and put it on Number Three. NO CHEATING. You will soon have your debt load pared down to long-term student loans and real estate. You can now take a breather for say, five minutes. 8.) Take some of the money you were using to pay off STUPID credit cards, and start DOUBLING UP ON YOUR MONTHLY REAL ESTATE PAYMENTS. The extra money can now be placed in a mutual fund account. Do not double up on student loans. They are so cheap already that it's practically money at no cost to you.
  12. Jessie The Fun Crusher Owns Ka-Bar without effort. Standing invitation: any time, any place, any railroad she chooses. Old guys are too easy.
  13. THE ALTERNATIVE For years and years, even as an adult, I did business strictly in cash. If I could not pay cash up front, fuck it, I did not need it. I had a bank account mainly to have a place to deposit my check, but you don't really even need that. You can cash paychecks at a check cashing place for a fee, usually 1%, a dollar per hundred. If your check is $350, you pay $3.50, or something close to that. I have frequently used pawn shops, but not to actually borrow money. When I was leaving town for a while, I would pawn my stereo and my guns, all my good stuff, and put the money and pawn tickets in my safe desposit box ($6 per year, at my bank). That way, my shit is locked up good and safe, and I can go to Mexico for a month without a worry. If I get stuck down there and can't get back to pay the ticket, I could mail it to the pawn guy from Mexico. He knew me, he knew I'd be back. I always came back. As long as I pawned over $500 worth of stuff, my interest rate was pretty low, about 11% I think. That works out to $55 to store my shit for a year in a secure place. Not a bad deal. Safer than a storage shed, for sure. And it's insured. If the pawn shop burns down or some shit like that, his insurance company has to buy me all new stuff. I lived out of a van for quite a while. You don't actually need a house if you're creative. Once I asked a soup kitchen place if I could get "letters from my family" at their address. They said, "Sure." Bingo, now I had a physical address for bank accounts, etc. You can rent a PO box (about $50 a year, $25 every 6 months) for everything buty a Driver's License. You must have a physical address for a Driver's License. None of this is illegal. You aren't ripping anybody off by living "outside the system." If you were to use the bank account to defraud somebody, now that would be illegal. But not having an actual address where you can be physically located isn't any sort of crime. It isn't really possible to get out of paying insurance. One way or another, if you own a car, or a home, or borrow money, or have a credit card or any sort of business except cash on the barrel head , you are going to have to pay up. But I have bought Harleys and cars and guns and stereos and all manner of expensive stuff for cash. I always took an armed back-up that looked serious, and met in a public place with plenty of witnesses (especially buying Harleys---you never know, you could get some crazy SOB who thinks he's Al Capone.) Plan in advance. Be honest with people. And be awake and alert. The worst thing about cash is it doesn't leave a trail. And the best thing about cash is it doesn't leave a trail.
  14. Okay. I publish this shit here in the same spirit as I would if I were publishing recipes for potassium nitrate and ammonia triodine and diagrams of "How to make an anti-tank rocket." Sure, it's a free country, and I got a First Amendment right to publish bomb diagrams if I want to do so. It's YOUR responsibility to not criminally/stupidly misuse things like that that you see on the internet, right? Right. 1.) Do some soul searching. Do you REALLY want credit? It's like making a pact with Satan. Sure, it looks good now. Wait until the fucking bill comes due. 2.) GO GET A JOB AND START EARNING MONEY. SAVE UP YOUR PAY. 3.) LEARN about credit cards, credit card companies, Annual Percentage Rates, credit cards, debit cards, gas credit cards, etc. 4.) START A SAVINGS ACCOUNT AT A BANK OR CREDIT UNION Once you have say, $500 in your savings account, then: 5.) APPLY FOR A CHECKING ACCOUNT. You have to either be over 18, or have a co-signer who is over 18. Banks charge you a monthly fee unless you keep more than some pre-determined amount in your checking account. If your check account balance falls below that amount, they start charging you a checking fee. The magic amount is usually $1,000 in your checking account at all times. That means you cannot write checks on that $1,000 at all, but they get to use it while it's sitting there in your account. 6.) Once you have had a savings and checking account for about a year, or maybe six months (DO NOT BOUNCE ANY CHECKS, OBVIOUSLY) you should be able to apply for a loan, and get it, if you have collateral. For instance, you want to buy a car, the car is worth more than the loan, so if you default on the loan and can't make your payments, the bank gets the car, and you don't get a fucking thing back. You lose all your payments, your down payment, and the car. It's sort of like borrowing money from the Mafia. Down payments are for two reasons--one, so that the bank is not just giving you a car, and two, so you have some reason to be worried if you default. The bigger the down payment, the smaller the monthly note. Until you pay the car off, the bank is part owner of it, too. So they REQUIRE you to carry insurance, so if you get in a wreck or get killed, they get their money back, and the victim of the wreck can't sue them. 7.) To get a down payment, you can save it up (the bank likes this one), or borrow it from somebody else (don't tell the bank) or pawn something valuable. Uh, something that you own, not something that belongs to somebody else. 8.) EACH TIME YOU BORROW, you must pay interest, which is a predetermined amount, a percentage of whatever you borrowed. The APR (annual percentage rate) can be whatever you agree to, up to a legal percentage set by the state. For a bank loan, that's rarely over 10% APR, usually less. Credit cards can be as high as 24% APR or so. But a pawn shop can LEGALLY charge a APR of as much as 240% (in Texas) on loans of $100 or less. That's TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY PER CENT, PER YEAR. Borrow $100, pay back $240. Legally. (I say, what the fuck, just give the Qwik Pawn guy a mask and a gun, you know?) Pawn shops cannot charge a vig. That's a loan-shark thing, a penalty for being late. You don't pay the vig, the loan goes up. You don't pay the loan, they cut off a finger with pruning shears or something. Do NOT do business with loan sharks or criminals that are not licensed by the state. Only approved, licensed criminals who smile nice and wear a suit and a tie. Okay. If you can get a loan of cash (a "personal loan" i.e., an unsecured personal loan) GO STRAIGHT TO ANOTHER BANK AND OPEN A SAVINGS ACCOUNT. DO NOT, DO NOT, DO NOT SPEND THE FUCKING MONEY. You ONLY use this money (plus a little more of your own) to pay back the bank you borrowed it from. Once you've paid off the loan, get another loan, a bigger one. Tell them it's for college expenses or some shit like that. DO NOT tell them you intend to buy a TV or something, because if you do, they will want a lien on the TV AS COLLATERAL ON THE LOAN, and you don't intend to buy anything. Once you've borrowed money several times, and paid it back, the bank sees you as an obviously trustworthy customer. You borrow, you pay back. With interest. You also now have a credit rating with TRW or somebody like that. Yeah, it costs you to hold their money for a year. No big deal, it's a cost of doing business. DO NOT GIVE IN TO THE TEMPTATION TO SPEND THE MONEY. If you spend the fucking money, now you have an actual, genuine debt, one that you cannot pay off easily.
  15. TAILOR MADES We always called roll-your-own cigarettes "tailor mades." As in made-just-as-big-or-as-small-as-you-like-it.
  16. He sounds very interesting If he doesn't get assassinated within the month, and the people are really behind him, maybe he will get a chance to demonstrate whether or not his ideas have any currency. If I were him, the first thing I would do is arm every man, woman and child in the country, and flood the Brazilian armed forces and police with hundreds of thousands of young volunteers from the trade unions. And for Christ's sake, wear body armor in public. Brazil is a wild place. Biggest country in South America. I guess we will see what is what as time goes on. It's hard for me to imagine a guy like this being able to survive in Brazil.
  17. Y'All Been Busy First off, Happy Mother's Day to any of you guys that are mothers, have a mother or wish to have a mother. I went and visited my Mom in the hospital today. Go call your Mom this very goddamn instant and tell her how much you love her and how grateful you are for everything she ever did for you. Believe me when I tell you---the day will come when you wish you could just see her for a minute, for an hour, so you can tell her all the things you should have been saying all along. Ka-Bars: I took the name Ka-Bar as a handle kind of carelessly. Anybody who is a Marine or former Marine or a Navy hospital corpsman will see it and know immediately. To be truthfull, using "Ka-Bar" as a internet handle among Marines is kind of lame ass. (Too late.) The Ka-Bar Company manufactures all kinds of knives, including pocket knives. I have a real old pocket knife I inherited from my Grandpa that is a Ka-Bar, another reason I like the handle. Recently, my niece sent me a box of my late brother-in-law's possessions, mostly Marine Corps manuals and notes he took during his tour in TBS at Quantico, VA. Among all his stuff was his personal Ka-Bar in a stiff, dry leather sheath. I was thrilled that she gave it to me. It was the Ka-Bar he carried in combat in Vietnam. It actually is not a Ka-Bar brand knife, but made by Ontario Cutlery. I spent a week carefully removing the rust and soaking the sheath in boot oil. I think of him every time I take it out of my gun safe to oil it and hone the edge To address the "communist issue.". Mikhail Bakunin was a contemporary of Karl Marx and Fredrich Engels. At the time of the First International (the 1868 global congress of the International Working Men's Association, founded in 1864) Bakunin was more-or-less the most influential member (read "leader") of the anarchist contingent. Collectively, they espoused a theory of organization known as "Anarchist communism." It had no Party, no "central committee", certainly no pretensions of dictatorship. The anarchists, and their theories of industrial/trade union organization, and their dedication to the ideas that the state, the church and the family must all be overturned if Man was to be free, were very popular. Especially with the less-educated common working men. Marx and Engels were leaders and influential members of a faction known as the "scientific socialists." They firmly believed that revolution would occur first in the most advanced, industrialized countries (wrong) and that the better educated, more highly skilled workers in Great Britain, Germany and France would be the leaders of a world-wide socialist organization. The idea of "communism" was denigrated as simplistic, unsophisticated and crude, not to mention, well---ignorant. Marx and Engels were pretty sure that only scientific socialism and the dictatorship of the proletariat would ever overturn capitalism. They attacked Bakunin and accused him of a lot of things that were either not true, or gross distortions of the facts. Bakunin was expelled from the IWMA. The scientific socialists took it over, moved it to New York (if memory serves) where it quickly became irrelevant. Bakunin went on to organize unions all over the world. However, Marx and Engels ripped off some of the more popular aspects of Bakunin's ideas and images. They adopted the word "Communism" for themselves (as well as "communist") and incorporated the idea that once the dictatorship of the proletariat prevailed the mighty Communist State would "wither away." Yeah, right. The Anarchists were pissed that the scientific socialists ripped off their image, but what can you do? The origins of the unrelenting animosity between the anarchists and the "communist" statists has been going on ever since, but it was escalated a great deal by the wholesale slaughter of anarchists at Kronstadt (1924, I think) by Trotsky's Red Army, and the eventual defeat and genocidal murders of the Ukrainian peasant's revolt under the anarchist, Makhno. Ever since, anarchists have hated the Communists, and the feeling is very definately mutual. I had some friends in the anarchist tongue-in-cheek "organization" in Chicago in the 1970's called the "Chicago Ice Pick Association", which was a spin-off on the fact that Leon Trotsky was murdered with an ice axe in his home in Mexico in 1940. By that time, he was a persona non grata in the Soviet Union (Russia), and denounced as an enemy of the State because he was a political danger to Stalin. (BTW, "CIPA" was one of the very first political graffitti tags I ever did--with a circle around the "A." We marked up all over North Halstead and in Old Town. Virtually nobody understood what it meant, except our intended targets, the Socialist Worker's Party (SWP.) Some of our favorite anarchist taunts, guaranteed to cause the Socialist Worker's Party Trots to fight: "TWO LEGS GOOD, FOUR LEGS BAD!" (from Orwell's "Animal Farm" and "TROTSKY'S DEAD, WAS A RED GOT AN ICE AXE TO THE HEAD!" We loved beating up Trots. Ah, the good old days. Another of our big enemies was a Lyndon LaRouche organization called the International Caucus of Labor Committees or something like that (I forget--they're so crazy it's had to keep up with the La Rouche people.) Anyway, they loved to fight, which was good enough for us. Nobody ever got hurt very bad, but it made for a lot of interesting Saturday nights, LOL.
  18. Definately sounds like you broke it Splint it, as above. Pad the area where the lump is, so the splint doesn't rub on it. If the ulna or radius bone is broken completely through, it could separate and become a compound fracture by coming out through the skin. No fucking about---go to the ER. It may be numb because of pressure on a nerve in your arm (duh.) and if the sharp, fractured edge of the bone cuts the nerve YOU ARE FUCKED. GO TO THE HOSPITAL NOW. Oh. This happened yesterday. Never mind. Does your cast itch?
  19. AH. The "L.A." Album I'd forgotten about that album completely. L.A. was supposed to stand for "light album" (this was during a period of time when the word "light" was being used to market all kinds of shit---"light" cigarettes, "light" beer, etc.) It was a play on words on "L.A. = Los Angeles" obviously. I don't think I ever bought it. Can't remember. That was over thirty years ago. Jesus.
  20. KaBar

    loyalty day

    May 1st Used to be "Law Day." I guess there are so many laws being broken in the White House that they thought they needs to change the focus a little. This is pretty funny, because I watched "1984" on cable twice yesterday. ("Deutchland, Deutchland, UBER ALLES...") Don't say I didn't warn you. GO BUY A MILITARY RIFLE AND A CASE OF AMMUNITION. LOL. "You crazy kids! What will you think up next?" "You are a Thought Criminal....and a double plus ungood Thought Criminal, at that."
  21. Still Miss It I smoked for 13 years and quit while I was in the Marines. It was too hard to keep up on runs with the company if I continued to smoke. Smoking sucks bad. It ruins your lungs, it gives you heart attacks, high blood pressure, atherosclerosis, cancer of everything including lungs, trachea, bronchia, mouth, tongue, lips, kidneys, prostate, etc. and leads to COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease), emphysema and a zillion other bad things. It kills 440,000 Americans every year, which is about ONE-HALF of all American deaths not connected with car wrecks, drive-bys, etc. It's bad shit. I still miss it like a motherfucker. I smoked Bugler and rolled my own when I was tramping. I smoked Marlboros when I had money. When I quit smoking, cigarettes were like 55 cents a pack. I could get Marlboros for 32 cents a pack at the PX if I bought a carton. I'm so glad I quit. I'm so bummed that I had to.
  22. Trousersnake Actually, my father trained to fly B-17 bombers in WWII, and one of my uncles flew B-25's. My Dad has been fascinated with airplanes and flying his entire life. He is building a Experimental aircraft in the shop at his house, sort of like building a motorcycle or a hot rod, only with retractable landing gear. He gas-welded the entire frame, and has either manufactured or modified everything on it. I don't know if he'll ever get to fly it now---he's like 78. One of my sisters said she intends to get a pilot's license so she can fly it. I had every chance in the world to be a teenaged pilot. My Dad owned several airplanes over the years, but I was pissed off at him a lot of my adolescence, and wouldn't do anything he wanted me to do. I was an idiot. But I could EASILY have become a licensed multi-engine pilot before age twenty. BUT I WAS STUPID AND I KNEW EVERYTHING. What can I say? I got to put my hands on the stick/wheel a few times when my Dad took me flying. It was kind of exhilarating and scarey at the same time. I don't know why I didn't take to flying. Just didn't. Wish I HAD.
  23. My 12th Grade Homeroom Teacher would be so surprised The woman really despised me. She would be astounded to read these posts. Once she and I got into a argument in homeroom (there used to be a set-up where every student was a member of a "Homeroom Class" and that teacher was like the boss teacher over you and your class schedule.) Anyway, Mrs. Hurst (that was her name) hated me with a passion because I was a smart-ass and a malcontent and an anarchist. And I helped publish the school's "underground" newspaper, Reality , to boot. In the middle of us trading remarks, she screamed "Mr. KaBar! You are going to wind up DIGGING DITCHES, you mark my words!" I said something all smart ass and sat down. LESS THAN A YEAR LATER, I was working for a plumber as an apprentice in the summer, doing guess what? Digging ditches for water lines. She was a bitch, but the woman had my number, no doubt.
  24. I never killed anybody, so I'm afraid I couldn't say.
  25. How I morphed from an Anarchist to a Marine. Actually, it was a gradual intellectual/emotional experience, but it didn't appear that way to outside observers. I was married to my trainhopping/hitch-hiking partner, Dee, whom I had met while living in a commune in Houston. (That's a pretty good story in itself, but not very germane to thie topic.) Trouble in Paradise: she and I had engaged in a big ass argument about whether or not we should camouflage ourselves as trade union flacks, and join the AFL-CIO as organizers, or whether we should continue to hold our principles and be true to revolutionary anarcho-syndicalism and the "One Big Union" ideal put forth by the IWW. (I know this sounds unbelieveably naive and stupid---all I can say is it was the last gasp of the Sixties and we were die-hard anarchists.) She thought we should come in out of the cold and make peace with the mainstream AFL-CIO guys (we knew some of them.) I was pissed. I thought that the only reason she wanted to compromise was the money. If we came in out of the cold, we could probably easily get jobs as union flunkeys, and it probably would pay a lot better than being a semi-employed unskilled anarchist organizer. I was wrong. It wasn't the money. It was a guy. An organizer and employee of the Communications' Workers of America. My girl was an action junkie. She loved having two guys fighting over her. (I loved her, but the truth is the truth.) She loved it when she had me fighting with her ex-husband, the right-wing, racist KKK sympathizer. Once that conflict died down (and neither of us got killed) she fell for some asshole at the CWA. The reason I argued so hard against "coming in out of the cold" is because I was fighting my own internal battle about what I believed. I was tired of anarchism. I was tired of being the only person, or maybe one of three or four guys who believed in anarcho-syndicalism and the IWW. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was all a big self-delusion. It certainly didn't pay much, and nobody seemed to respect my point of view. Everybody, including my high-school buddy, the Maoist (who later married my ex-wife) dissed anarchism as being hopelessly utopian and incapable of organizing the working class. To tell you the truth, I was pissed-off and disillusioned with the working-class people I knew. They could not care less about class conciousness or battling racism/sexism/etc. They all wanted more money, bigger pick-up trucks, bigger houses, vacations in Hawaii, etc. Only the stupid-ass politicals like myself gave a fuck about trying to create a more egalitarian society. Except for the Black nationalists, the black people that I knew were completely mystified as to why I would fuck up my life by being a revolutionary, and they weren't about to risk a goddamned thing to support us in any way. And the whites were just as bad. It was like Animal Mother in "Full Metal Jacket." ("If I got to die for a word, my word is pooon-tang.") And, I had a pretty awful secret, for an anarchist. I secrtetly still loved my country. When I saw Old Glory whipping in the breeze, I couldn't help but feel a swelling of pride. I felt a lot of sadness, and a feeling of obligation, whenever I saw a National Cemetary. ("Those guys died for me. I should be living for them.") I secretly visited Marine Corps recruiters, to talk about enlisting. Business was bad for them--they had lots of time on their hands. We talked and talked about the Corps. I had a brother-in-law, whom I greatly respected, who was a former Marine. He thought I was crazy for believing in anarchism. But he told me once "The Marine Corps was the most Communist thing I was ever a part of." My wife and I had a frank discussion one day. I told her I thought the Marine Corps looked pretty good. She told me "Go ahead, if that's what you want to do." What I didn't know was that she had a boyfriend in the wings. When I signed up, I called my brother-in-law up to tell him. I thought he'd be proud of me. He said "You little shit!" and hung up on me. My anarchist friends, who talked miles of bullshit about revolution, but didn't know the first fucking thing about combat, were appalled. One guy actually told me he would never speak to me again. I was kind of apprehensive about it. But I was glad I'd done it, I wanted to make a change. Boy--did I ever make a change. The Government started making plans to watch me like a hawk. They planted an NIS agent in my boot camp platoon, a guy I liked a whole lot, named Ainsworth. After two or three weeks he actually asked me about anarchism. That's when I knew---my friend was an agent. I had never mentioned politics or anarchism to anyone in the platoon, never. But Ainsworth told me he knew all about anarchism. He told me he was an anarchist "too." So I said, "Really? What do you think of Peter Kropotkin? How about Errico Malatesta? Or Bakunin?" Blank look. We were still buddies, but I knew I couldn't trust him any more. It felt really fucking lonely. I was the Platoon Guide. Ainsworth was my First Squad Leader. As we went through Boot Camp, we got harder and harder. The first week when they put us in the Pit for twenty minutes, some of the younger recruits actually cried. By Third Phase, we were "born again hard." They offered me the Enlisted-to-Officer Program. I wanted to accept in the worst way, but I knew that if I accepted, they'd find out about the anarchist shit for sure. And I'd probably get kicked out of the Marines. I told the officer "no." I said "Sir, I just want to finish boot camp, and go be a rifleman." He nodded, like "That's what I thought, you little pussy." When I got home from Boot Camp, my bank account was empty, and my wife was fucking a liberal Democrat. I went back in the Corps, fully intending to be a professional soldier. I intended to be a career Marine, a life taker and heart breaker. Ooh-fuckin'-RAH. I divorced my wife, packed my shit, and shipped over to the First Marine Division, at Camp Pendleton, California. Welcome home, Marine.
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