Remember
that cheesy movie I mentioned – Robot Monster? Well, a quote from that monstrosity
(pun intended) really stuck with me. Which world leader does this remind you of?
Your people were getting too intelligent. [LAUGHS UNCONTROLLABLY.] We could not
wait until you were strong enough to attack us. We had to attack you first.
Whether we support the military actions in Iraq or not, we should support the men and women serving in the armed forces there and elsewhere. PowerBlog! has posted one suggestion for showing that support that involves donating items to troops. I heard of another on the radio recently. It’s called Operation Hero Miles and it "provides a way for you to help our troops stationed in Iraq and Afghanistan by donating your unused frequent flyer miles."
My only medals are the scars
I’ve won in weary, peacetime wars,
A-fighting for my little brood,
To win them shelter, shoon and food;
But most of all to give them faith
In God’s good mercy unto death.My sons have medals gleaming bright,
Proud trophies won in foreign fight;
But though their crosses bravely shine,
My boys can show no wounds like mine–
Grim gashes dolorously healed,
And inner ailings unrevealed.Life-lasting has my battle been,
My enemy a fierce machine;
And I am marked by many a blow
In conflict with a tireless foe,
Till warped and bent beneath the beat
Of life’s unruth I own defeat.Yet strip me bare and you will see
A worthy warrior I be;
Although no uniform I’ve worn,
By wounds of labour I am torn;
Leave the their ribbands and their stars . . .
Behold! I proudly prize my scars.
The Song Of The Pacifist
by Robert Service
What do they matter, our headlong hates, when we take the toll of our Dead?
Think ye our glory and gain will pay for the torrent of blood we have shed?
By the cheers of our Victory will the heart of the mother be comforted?If by the Victory all we mean is a broken and brooding foe;
Is the pomp and power of a glitt’ring hour, and a truce for an age or so:
By the clay-cold hand on the broken blade we have smitten a bootless blow!If by the Triumph we only prove that the sword we sheathe is bright;
That justice and truth and love endure; that freedom’s throned on the height;
That the feebler folks shall be unafraid; that Might shall never be Right;If this be all: by the blood-drenched plains, by the havoc of fire and fear,
By the rending roar of the War of Wars, by the Dead so doubly dear. . . .
Then our Victory is a vast defeat, and it mocks us as we cheer.Victory! there can be but one, hallowed in every land:
When by the graves of our common dead we who were foemen stand;
And in the hush of our common grief hand is tendered to hand.Triumph! Yes, when out of the dust in the splendour of their release
The spirits of those who fell go forth and they hallow our hearts to peace,
And, brothers in pain, with world-wide voice, we clamour that War shall cease.Glory! Ay, when from blackest loss shall be born most radiant gain;
When over the gory fields shall rise a star that never shall wane:
Then, and then only, our Dead shall know that they have not fall’n in vain.When our children’s children shall talk of War as a madness that may not be;
When we thank our God for our grief to-day, and blazon from sea to sea
In the name of the Dead the banner of Peace . . . that will be Victory.