weird war tales

as per usual a combination of informations collide and coalesce in my mental soup...

while reading an old copy of a DC Comics war book, WEIRD WAR TALES 102. the story was about a teen playing a video game which turns out to have a been a type of virtual war machine planted by an extra-terrestrial race to enlist the youth of today in combatting an invading race. the kid subsequently defeats the attacking armadas and ultimately gains a commodation from the aliens.

then this add pops up on my internet minds eye. COMBAT ARMS which causes a spiral of apocalyptic thoughts in my brains.

what if our own neerduelle nations conspired to create technologies of this ilk?

isn't the star of the early 90's top programme THE SCUD and Patriot MISSILE -with their onboard viewfinder directional death technolgy- of kin or ancestry to this?

it creates the oportunity to create a defacto pocket universe of arm chair generals to actually wage war and murder upon the little fish of the world.

we already do this to a point. there are a pockets of office worker bees who sittly complicitly at their desk and cubicles each day in iddle amerikkka and type away at a sort of global battleship type software that even Milton Bradley's nefarious Mr Monopoly would be aghast at

and also make Ronnie's StarWARs seem simplistic.

but keep in mind those these white shirt and stained pit and collored drones are bombing awaya at islamic misunderstandistan they are not murderers, they are PATRIOTS!! part of the war effort you see, tho not much more effort than is needed to pass a sloppy turd.

but what if you got the grubby paws of kids into the biz?

first make em pay, they sign up for these online scenarios of death, mayhem and dismemberment....

the evil little bastards even have their own online weapons trades already for things such as FINAL FANTASY and WOW...

so extrapalate this and actualise the carnage into the physical realm...

i would prefer to say the "real world" but that seems ti be even more subjective today than gautama could have ever dreamt under the bilbao tree.....

at any rate

we can have or could already have 10 year olds financing the war and shuffling artillary across the greying pock marked barely green and soon to be irrevocably charred scorched earth of our father who ain't in heaven.

sleep well.

Bert

nothing fancy or creative today. just a report.

waking around 1030 to get up and ready for another trip to the old saw bones.

rabies vaccines, part two. or it would have been if today was monday not sunday.

i barely distinguish between days anymore. tho it wasn't until i'd already checked in at the clinic and waited 45 mins or two chapters worth of what i was reading. BIG SUR, by Kerouac if you need that kind of info. the parallels lately are wondrously hope dashing.

so tomorrow i return dubiously and bashful to get my curious vaccination for a disease not common and the circumstance of which no one comments verbally on, tho i see the critical disapproval, they eyeing me my animal caused wounds like a scarlet alphabet.

the walk there was also not with out incident. i discovered a wounded pigeon hobbling around a construction site and made a silent pact to come back and save it if it was still there when i returned from my appointment. it was. wing torn and bleeding. ripped thru the ribcage but ever silent and dignified in a way man can't understand. i picked it up and carried it home in my reddening hands. i bandaged it. got it some seed, dried bread and water, hoping.

i caressed it some, checking intermittently. resigned silence he turned inward to the cage i'd placed him in for safety allowing my kindness. i'm sure he knew his fate was soon to come.

just after our dinner i checked on him and found him cold, eyes closed and resting much where i'd left him laying on a pillowcase i'd put in there. i called him, Bert.

when i get on these missions my wife always reminds me that i have done more than anyone else did or would.

why is it never enough?