Somehow I don’t feel any Different Than One Of Those Palestinian Parents Does


Yesterday we celebrated the 21st birthday of our oldest son Eric, with a send-off party as he is leaving this week for the Afghanistan war.(you know, the war we’ll never win?)
Although he knows full well that we disagree with the entire thing, there really isn’t much that we can do except hope he can shoot well, and hope to hell he kills as many extreme muslims and taliban as possible.(really, there’s no other reason for being there…there is no peace to keep…and the plan is to kill as many as possible without being killed yourself.)
Really, he has to be a good shot. If he isn’t, chances are they’ll shoot him first…or blow him up with a roadside bomb. I told him, just shoot everything…fuck them. Even if they are dressed like the pope…shoot them. If someone appraches you with anything…shoot them. If someone asks for help…shoot them. It’s the only way you’ll make it back. Just go there, kill as much as you can in as short an order as possible…don’t worry about whether or not they may be innocent, just kill them all.
I watched a film a month ago about Muslim women sending their kids off to the conflict against us, and now that I think about it, what exactly is the difference between us breeding and raising kids for our prime minister Stephen Harper to kill off in this war compared to palestinian women breeding and raising kids for suicide bombers?
There’s no difference at all. They hate us, and some of us are foolish enough to think we can help them.
All I know is that today I feel like a supplier of fresh meat for Canadas’ military effort. I hope this wasn’t the last face to face meeting I will have with my son.


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