So Anyways....

Just in case anyone was wondering where I went and what I was doing, here's the answer: I was in Panama, performing one of the most important functions that a soldier can do outside of combat.

I was part of a funeral detail for another soldier.

Maybe this is why goat-fucking pissants like Murtha and Moran piss me off so much. They denigrate the service of men like the one I just helped bury. Men who believe so much in what they're doing in Iraq that they re-enlist, or retain their commission, even after being in Iraq or Afghanistan, after seeing combat. These men have been knee-deep in shit and knew that they were fighting for something good, something worthwhile. And to have cowardly fucksticks like Murtha and Moran shit all over the military while good men and women fight and die for what they know to be right makes me see red. Craven pusswads like Moran and Murtha don't deserve to lick the dust off of a soldier's boots. And yet they sit there, spewing the worst kind of crap out of their mouths, and it makes me want to kick both of them in the nuts so hard that their voices are a permenant squeak.

The man I carried to his grave should not have his life violated by the likes of Murtha and Moran. They can choke and fucking die for all I care. I buried a better man than they could ever hope to be.



I might write more on this later, I don't know. Mebby when I feel up to more than bashing in the skulls of Murtha and Moran with a baseball bat.