Quote:
Originally Posted by astra
You only prove my point.
It is so easy to snipe at people from a warm and comfy chair when they do the "dirty job", so you can sit in the chair and snipe at them. While I realise that not everyone is capable or able to do the "dirty job", you might think that they would realise that a bit of appreciation and respect is due, however, their intellectual capacity has no boundaries*.
* "Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped."
— Elbert Hubbard |
Firstly what point? You don't seem to have one whenever you actually make a statement, not ever. Not once. Your statements are borderline comprehensible, and now you've gone to the edge of comprehension with this one. I've been trying to decipher exactly what you mean for the last twenty five minutes and I'm stumped. Seriously, we need some kind of forensic expert to get to the bottom of this one.
I think I'll have a crack at it though, because from the tone I'm getting it's one of those 'How dare you have a go at something you won't do yourself' kind of sentiments. Otherwise known as the 'white feather argument' (roughly translated, cowards don't get to have a voice).
What is the 'dirty job' and who is doing said job, and why has that any relevance to this discussion? Unless said dirty job is soldiering? Is that what you mean? Are the 'soldiers' those who do the dirty job that we are criticizing from the sidelines or our 'comfy chairs' (mine isn't so comfortable, I'm waiting for a new one on delivery). Is this dirty job something in your eyes that is essential to what....peace, society. Should we respect these 'doers of the dirty jobs' that are never explained, pointed out or identified?
If the 'dirty job' is soldiering, then you're right to call it a dirty job. It's a filthy occupation where men and women, sons and daughters, husbands and wives are trained to murder in the name of country and freedom without question. For me this kind of unquestioning willingness to kill is a form of psychosis, the same blind faith that drives people to salute pieces of cloth hanging from poles, shoot at pregnant women and drop bombs on civilians.
From my not-so-comfy chair I will continue to criticize the actions of blind patriots and worshippers at the feet of the cults of country and flag. I'll continue to be 'inactive' and never pick up the gun and the bullet. My deed is unwillingness to fight for the causes of the rich. My deed is refusal to blindly take orders. My deed is to always raise my voice in the face of patriots and in the honour not of soldiers but of the millions of innocent dead put to rest with bombs, bullets and starvation.
My respect, my appreciation is reserved only for the victims of these ridiculous wars, never the perpetrator. But I do have heroes.
My heroes don't have guns, they're the children left orphaned by American and British bombs that burned the skies of Bagdhad so many years ago it seems impossible. They're the driver of a SUV who stopped to help a wounded young photographer, who then in turn was cut to ribbons by the laughing patriots kilometres away safe in their multi-million dollar war play machine. My heroes are the women and the struggling families in the occupied countries of Afghanistan and Iraq, who despite years and years of abuse, wake each morning and try to do the best for their children. My heroes are the mothers and the fathers of dead soldiers who wake now, this very morning, wondering what comfort a flag will give them when they no longer have their children.
You can't salute death. There is no pride in a coffin. There is no country six feet deep.