War Resolution
Wha they call it? So you say you want a “Resolution”
While the troops already deploy into the sand under authority of Bushler’s head bobble, The othaa 1/3rd the “balance” is looking for their marbles because they can’t do shit about it. It’s the Reich own fucking coup of the system. Unreal power in the hands of a dim man. Nothing more than that really. He’s the worst president that the Repubic Heirs may have seen yet. I’m not that good with the history of it. Regardless, the next ten years are going to be fucking killer. I’m stoked.
The fucked funny shit of my thoughts is that I’m interested in being there…at least lightly. So far I’ve visited the military office once- directly after the 911 Dealio. Then it was the marines and I talked with them for a few days, maybe event a week before I let it go. Now I’m interested in knowing how the troops really feel. Is the reality of what we can only selectively hear and see so much different that they would feel it’s the right thing. I can’ only guess that they’re there in comraderie. It’s got to be unreal. I’d liek to go over there and help my fellow man regardless of idiology or the politics behind it, but…I think the reality of it is that it’s the mess we see on the news and none of it would be justified. Just being there, I’d have to turn my brain off and I don’t think I could.
It is snowing in Wagstaff right meow. With that, I feel alright but I’ve been jonesing to ride for about 4 weeks now even trying feebly to get down to Tucson for a few weeks now to see some friends and hit up a good ride. It has been over due. A good sign. In fact on that, I did ride up to the Nordic Center last Thursday or so and it was a pretty sweet ride. Globally warm and quite. Aside from that and one other ride with Snake in the fall, that is the only riding I have done on the road since Beeg Juanny got the shit knoocked out of him. I still can’t believe he was torn out of his cycling shoes. Those things are on pretty fuck’n A Good when I ride.
On the dish for now? Just kick ass snow treks and the search for ghetto powder. Yummy in its own right.
Don’t Nar the Schnig. Schnig the Nar.
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