Call To Arms

On Saturday, 16 April 2011 Comrade Raithel reactivated the Harpo Marxist Brigade to oppose the banality of all things presented as "common sense" and "civility." All manners of deceit and deception employed by those who defend privilege as right will be excoriated; all those who preach submission is autonomy will be pummelled; all those who obscure private interest with public rhetoric will be repelled. We shall take no prisoners and we will shoot your wounded; we shall grant no boon, no civility, no practice of custom which denies the incivility of the ruling interests and their minions. Anyone and everyone who is not constitutionally revolted by what those with money, power, and status do to and with this world is suspect. Those of you who cannot stomach struggle by all necessary means are advised: Get thee away from this place. Flee and shield one's sensitive nature. We have no use for you here.


Some of Us Against Them

Saturday, November 13, 2010

A Belated Veteran's Day Note....

A comrade emailed me the following link:

You may have to copy it and then paste it into your browser, and the site might change by the time you get there. My comrade wanted me to know that the Canadian Neighbor Pharmacy was running a special on Viagra in honor of Veterans Day - there was a pic of a babe in camouflage, some weapon slung about her shoulder ...

The first few years after I got out of the Army (Jan '77), my service mattered to me- I'd have to tell people "No, I did not go to Vietnam, I was in Germany." Mostly, I had drank a lot of beer, smoked a lot of hash, dropped a little acid, saw a few sites, and got into some fairly thick brawls - mit comrade soldats, MP's, etc. - defending the West from the Asiatic Hordes to the East. The Army I knew is the one depicted in a little film entitled Buffalo Soldiers. That story is supposed to be set in the months preceding the collapse of the wall, and it's got more than a few anachronisms and errors (e.g., the Joaquin Phoenix character would not have been a draftee, as the plot summary says, because the last of the draftees left service in Europe late summer of 1975.) But otherwise, my service to my country was about as dangerous to me as the goings on of that story. Then for a number years after, my being a veteran did not matter to me. My "service" if you will, was something for which I felt no particular pride nor owed anyone an apology. Then came 9/11 and Bush's Two Stupid Wars. Out came the Chicken Hawks. FUCK THEM. Cunts, everyone of them.

But the link from my friend and comrade prompted my reply to him, which I put here. It's the only way I know to respond to the insincerity of our times about all things, and in this particular case, the wasting of lives:

"You realize, of course, that I have to do something with this on the HarpoMarxistBrigade blog. Something along the lines of getting a hard on and then going to Applebee's for my free sammich....

I did see one decent editorial cartoon that day - couple of Teabaggers complaining about all the things they have to go without when they pay taxes, and then they bump into a veteran with no legs, sitting in a wheel chair.

My nephew in the Army, who came back from Iraq (3 generations of Raithels in a row now, in continuous service to The Man since 1947 or '48, not sure exactly when my dad's older brother first enlisted) about a year ago, is already on orders to Afghanistan sometime in the spring. Yeah, his marriage fell apart. I don't know if I ever mentioned (God, has it been almost two years already?) I went to the funeral of the sister of my best friend from High School. His son was there, recently discharged from the Marines. His life was a mess. He'd gone over with the first wave, was actually interviewed by the WAPO - one of those kids who enlisted as soon as he turned 18 after 9/11. Did three trips. Said the first two weren't too bad, even though he got his purple heart the second time. His dad told me that after he got discharged, the first six months seemed ok, but then one day after work he went out and got drunk, and stayed drunk every day for the next six months. On the other hand I know another kid (through what used to be my job) who seems to have re-adjusted (Army - Iraq), and he said he thinks it's for his regularly attending counseling and self-help groups with other vets on campus. His cross to bear is a cliche, but too real: He was in a signal battalion. He saw soldiers around him getting killed. He never fired his weapon because there was NOBODY to shoot. He says he felt useless and powerless...

But I catch him in the paper once in a while, he's pretty active with a group of Vets who now give a shit about energy policy...

Anyway, got to head up to Columbia College and help put up the stage extension for the children's theater group I fart around with...

Comrade Raithel ...."

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