Everything old is new again.

[Eldora, Oracle of Alchemy]

Something Turd said got me thinking about a song I was thinking about yesterday.  So I googled the lyrics of this song that runs through my head...

I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die-Rag(Take 1 - 09 65)

Well, come on all of you, big strong men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
Yeah, he's got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Vietnam
So put down your books and pick up a gun,
Gonna have a whole lotta fun.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Yeah, come on Wall Street, don't be slow,
Why man, this is war au-go-go
There's plenty good money to be made
By supplying the Army with the tools of its trade,
Just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb,
They drop it on the Viet Cong.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam.
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well, come on generals, let's move fast;
Your big chance has come at last.
Now you can go out and get those reds
'Cause the only good commie is the one that's dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Come on mothers throughout the land,
Pack your boys off to Vietnam.
Come on fathers, and don't hesitate
To send your sons off before it's too late.
You can be the first ones in your block
To have your boy come home in a box.

And it's one, two, three
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam.
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

We had a couple of funerals in my county last week, or the week before.   Every governmental fuckup, every boy that comes home in a casket, every report on the news, reminds me this is another Vietnam, only we have even less reason for begin there.  

Here is a photo copy of Joe'sFBI file.  His home page.  His jukebox so you can hear him sing this.  Stupid RealOne player, though

[East Coast Hustle]

yeah...the shitty part is that the ones that die might be the lucky ones...my friend Harold, the one who got his arm and half his face blown off by an IED, he's got a wife and 3 kids and his disability benefits probably won't even cover his medical bills now that Boosh & Co. have yanked the bottom out of the benefits for disabled vets...the town had to take up a collection just so his wife and kids could afford to fly to Maryland to visit him...those fuckbags who decided it was OK to send us over to die in a sandhole should at least have the common decency to support the people that end up disabled for life because of their illegal war, but no...

my dad was a vet and he has 2 bad knees and a bad hip that he can't afford to get fixed because of the cuts to veteran's benefits, so he has to limp around in pain for the rest of his life...

I can't begin to say how badly this pisses me off.

[Ghost In The Machine]

Well, at least the gays can't marry.

[/sarcasm]

[fluffy]

didn't i do an updated version of those lyrics?
can't find it now

[East Coast Hustle]

yes, you did.

[Cain]

I don't know how you all stand to live there, to be honest.  By now, I probably would have been picked up by the DHS for having a sawn off shotgun while trying to mail myself to the President, or else gone insane.

[East Coast Hustle]

believe me, it's a challenge every single day.

I'd like to make some pithy comment that'd make me sound all witty and urbane and jaded, but the truth is, there's nothing I can do to make it any easier for myself. One day I'll either get out, die trying, or be forced into the prison-industrial complex, and that'll be that.