The All Disability Army

The All Disability Army

L. Edgar Otto   28 May, 2012  (one too many memorial days- a non disabled vet facing homelessness and well beyond the decade of seeing my children)

The mongrels are no longer on death row in the utopia where we volunteer to adopt all pets from the shelters. War is no longer the widow maker to control the over population save the expediency of neutering and declawing.  We give the creatures who can no longer survive in the wild cute and personal names or christen them with ones of hopes and power.  Our icons of song bring today's funeral parlour musak in the form of all who are caught up in tangled emotions where the abused pit bulls still crave a cuddle from a human.  What is this displaced nurturing in us that sets the stage for the planet of the apes?  When the viruses took the dogs the fiction mixing with the fantasy slowly becomes the reality in the free speech of lies of reality TV.

o The fawns, left on their own awhile are adopted by well meaning souls frighting away their mothers, only here can there be a farming, harvesting, not the hunt of man against the wild that the state declares in the quest for antlers, a doe season. Tomorrow's army will be that of the all autistic one trained not by the generations of alcohol then drug abuse but an addiction to the distraction of virtual space and war games at a distance.  This the illusion of identity that those who cater to those who have injury and make a living off it sell the promise that as in real life one can will a legacy and take care of their estate, pass something on more than a wall or black hole of carved names where in the collective flash the neighbors go to clean up the cemetery after the storm so there can be a sea of small flags that match the immortal flesh of those in pristine Arlington painted by the numbers and cut with jungle defoliants that it stay green, the bleeding out into the water table and into the air and food of children.

In the offense taken by the new constitutencey that feeds on the emotions of lost ones rashing seeking revenge or conquest at the start of wars, those who cannot do teach and those who raise our children to the party line then complain when the cannot teach, the infertile who lost thier tails and want you to shout to the world theirs the truth and the wheel that in passive agression sucks the oil.  They go through the motion of of love immortal and love fleeting such that we do not ask nor tell their right to join and die. Preaching, proselytizing their equality of what should be considered a disease as would be the parasites to groom that afflict us with motherhood the right to die so take the chance in war for rituals of glory, theirs to say the family and marriage is slavery where equal pay becomes half pay and the cost of doing business is fixed for more than that.

Was it not a prophesy that the once allied and underground warriors would drag us in so as to kill more of us from our homeland, that prophesy fulfilled far more than the towers? What nonsense to make of one soul a symbolic cult that for the policeman of the world one long elusive target pays for and solves it all.  The cure was worse than the disease where we know no better than to cut or burn or poison, we sword swallower's, fire eaters,  real and false snake oil and firewater that we justify as mouthwash- we all having to live in the fun house of distorted mirrors of self and others in the traveling show, even those who turn the sacred upside down as if that matters more than the desire to have a child for the false hope of magic in the sacrifice.  Let us not forget the bearded ladies who ask for insurance and raise the cost of medicine and intrusive surgery or chemotherapy or radiation for those who abuse the emergency room.

But Christians make good soldiers as we focus the searing heat of the unsettled and indifferent sun on the family and Rome falls with her sayings of Trust in god, but let he who reads the signs read into them their god and probe no further while crusade as they walk craving brains in a society that works because all are zombies. Oh, it looks good to seem to raise them from the dead awhile, otherwise their would be no one to chain, no slaves for the mainstream for a part of wealth and wisdom or what passes for life and work far from the equilibrium of merit as we grow blind in another twilight, we tragic gods.

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Next morning: Memorial Day going to the coffee shop leaving the winos turning in and the one of two back from lock up for something-

Let us not confuse superposition with overlapping in the count and dynamics of the count as if there is a  space in a congruent quasic boundary that is or is not a foundational principle.

Of course this unfolding, note the stars can be vertical or horizontal to make a ring of ten, the sequences as if musical notes themselves can be an aid to understand permutations and complex structures that may apply in some cases as if a discrete perturbation or default pattern.

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