Sunday, September 16, 2012


When I was young guy, a chickenhawk was a middle-aged man driving a car with Jersey plates who slowly cruised by young guys  in Greenwich Village, checking out if you were a  boy prostitute. They were gross. We'd make chicken cackling sounds at them.

Later, the name became attached to  men who strongly support military action but actively avoided  military service themselves.  The lowest of the low.

At least four of my Facebook friends are chickenhawks by the second definition, three of them from the Vietnam draft era.  If I called them chickenhawks they'd probably unfriend me.

Of course, two of them were rattling the sabers this past week. Sure, let's go bomb the shit out of whoever attacked our embassies & killed our state dept. people. Send in the Marines. By the way, who & where are these murderers?

Yeah yeah I know. If you were only 30 or 40 years younger you'd be at the Army recruiting office tomorrow, or maybe the day after tomorrow, or next week, or next month, next year, or sheesh now you have a good job, you're getting married, you're too old, why bother? That's what happened 30 or 40 years ago, right?

How's the bombing stuff working out in Afghanistan? Our pilotless drones inflict collateral damage, atomizing some women here, incinerating some children there. So our frustrated, enraged enemies sign up to become policemen, go through our training,  & when we issue  them weapons they use the weapons to kill us, three or four at a time.

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"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be." Thomas Jefferson

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