All my life I have been utterly mystified that anyone can be naive enough to actually believe that signing up for the USA's armed services has even the remotest connection to 'serving your country.'
As if the way veterans are discarded and abused as a policy isn't enough to convince anyone that these people are not on the same side of anything as the American people are, this story just drives a few more nails into the coffin where my former juvenile faith in this country's government and institutions have been long buried.
These young men were of the exact same age group as I am.
It still sticks in my craw to this day that early in 1978, a few weeks after I had declined to return to my senior year in 'high school', but was still months away from turning eighteen, the school had contacted the US Marine recruiter in the area with the information that I had resigned from their predatory gay-mafia-run counterfeit of an education, and resolved to get on with my life.
A Marine sergeant called me on my parents' home phone, a number he had no business even knowing, and tried to lure me into their death cult. I reminded him that I was nowhere near eighteen years of age yet and even if I was, the last thing I would throw my life away on was letting the likes of him teach me how to go kill innocent people for no good reason.
He just laughed at me on the phone, and tried to convince me that since Vietnam the Marines hadn't been actually killing a lot of people any more, and so I had nothing to worry about, yada-yada.
It was haunting to watch the story of these 'few good men' whom the USMC were ready to write off as deserters just one year later, just because their little gun-club was so chaotic and corrupt that they couldn't keep order and discipline and the rule of law intact on their own training base.
If I had fallen for that recruiter's line of crap, Camp Lejeune may well have been where my life would have come to an end too, not that the Marines could care less then, or do any more about their own people now.
These people are not on your side, Americans. Nothing to do with the federal establishment can be trusted to behave toward any of us in any other manner that that they regard us all as their enemies.
God help us all, if Americans don't, at long last, start to get the obvious fact through their thick skulls that this country is not governed at all by these lying bandits, but rather occupied.
And I thank God to this day that even at seventeen (in 1978), I had the good self-preserving self-respect and common sense to tell that jarhead exactly where he could stuff his illegal job offer to a minor.
As if the way veterans are discarded and abused as a policy isn't enough to convince anyone that these people are not on the same side of anything as the American people are, this story just drives a few more nails into the coffin where my former juvenile faith in this country's government and institutions have been long buried.
These young men were of the exact same age group as I am.
It still sticks in my craw to this day that early in 1978, a few weeks after I had declined to return to my senior year in 'high school', but was still months away from turning eighteen, the school had contacted the US Marine recruiter in the area with the information that I had resigned from their predatory gay-mafia-run counterfeit of an education, and resolved to get on with my life.
A Marine sergeant called me on my parents' home phone, a number he had no business even knowing, and tried to lure me into their death cult. I reminded him that I was nowhere near eighteen years of age yet and even if I was, the last thing I would throw my life away on was letting the likes of him teach me how to go kill innocent people for no good reason.
He just laughed at me on the phone, and tried to convince me that since Vietnam the Marines hadn't been actually killing a lot of people any more, and so I had nothing to worry about, yada-yada.
It was haunting to watch the story of these 'few good men' whom the USMC were ready to write off as deserters just one year later, just because their little gun-club was so chaotic and corrupt that they couldn't keep order and discipline and the rule of law intact on their own training base.
If I had fallen for that recruiter's line of crap, Camp Lejeune may well have been where my life would have come to an end too, not that the Marines could care less then, or do any more about their own people now.
These people are not on your side, Americans. Nothing to do with the federal establishment can be trusted to behave toward any of us in any other manner that that they regard us all as their enemies.
God help us all, if Americans don't, at long last, start to get the obvious fact through their thick skulls that this country is not governed at all by these lying bandits, but rather occupied.
And I thank God to this day that even at seventeen (in 1978), I had the good self-preserving self-respect and common sense to tell that jarhead exactly where he could stuff his illegal job offer to a minor.
