Curator’s Choice: The Screaming Eagle who has no words.
I avoided reblogging this image all day, as part of me felt that it was too “rough”.
I just now had an epiphany: last week I was interviewed on how I felt about this path of thinking, specifically how the Austin Symphony Orchestra felt that cutting Veteran speakers from their 4th of July performance. I admitted to being upset, and honestly I am. I can’t believe that their reasoning was out of a fear that people might have felt put-off or disgusted, or terrified by hearing the stories.
So here is my reblog and this will be the only thing that I leave on my page for the day. This happens every day. Then guys that went through shit like this come home just to fight battles of bureaucracy that make an “L” shaped ambush look like a game of hop-scotch, homelessness, unemployment, loneliness, depression, PTSD, TBI, drug and alcohol dependence, detachment from society, and a general feeling of being unappreciated.
So here it is, America. The yellow ribbon you purchased at the local quicky mart, which was made in China, helped this Warrior in no way.
Take a good, long look.
Think about it.
I hope it fucks your weekend up.
I hope it makes you cry.
Image by Jerome Starkey - *side note - People who reblog these images need to credit the creators of the image. It’s impolite and disrespectful to do so otherwise. This isn’t just a photograph, it’s a validation of a point in time. Some one left the comfort of their home, and risked their life to go capture this image. Pay a little respect.
[And I will reblog this every time it comes across my dash. Andrew speaks blunt truth and I love every word of it. -R]
Because I am sick of people talking about war without knowing what it it.
This gets me into trouble sometimes. Sometimes I have to retreat within myself, regroup , and then come out asking questions.
I’m scared to laugh at basic. My future. O.0
The Sad-Ass Guide to Being a Man
You’re not 11 or 17 anymore. Get your fucking shit together. The days of John Bendering around your highschool, acting like you’re so fucking tough and rad are over. Everyone expects you to button your shirt, pull up your pants, get a job and get real. Well, guess what? That’s what being a legitimate adult is all about. Yeah, ugh, sorry bro, but time to man up and enter the real world. I say as I’m laid out across my bed, typing this in my underwear, at 12:30 PM on a Wednesday.
Yeah, you should probably read some. Maybe start with Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, or Harry Crews, or shit just start at the articles in Playboy, but fucking start somewhere. Take a cue from Bill Hicks. You don’t wanna end up a waffle waitress. You need to expand your mind, somehow someway. I’m not even talking about the Accounting book that got rain-fucked in the bed of your pick-up. I’m talking about things that will expand not only your intellect, but maybe grace you with a little bit of finesse, swagger, confidence, humility, and shit, maybe even a stroke of brilliance. Chances are writers have lived 1,000 of the lifestyles you can only dream of, so you might as well take notes, dude.
Buy some already you fucking mutant.
Look, I know growing up, something in your brain told you that by being the biggest douchebag in the world, you’d get all the respect, power, money, girls, etc etc til the day you die. Well, I’ve got something to tell you, 9 times out of 10, uuuugggghhhh, that’s totally true. I hate to be that way, but it’s just the way the world works. That’s why you have to realize, we need to make a change. I’m not saying you can’t be an asshole, sure you can, just practice some moderation, bro. It’s 2013, so let’s just try to start giving nice guys a good name.
Yeah, like, actually eating food… Practice some restriction here piggy. Hey now, don’t get all huffy puffy, I’m fat, it’s cool. I’m just saying, don’t eat a rack of BBQ ribs like it’s cunnilingus hour at the pussy patch. Use a napkin, chew with your mouth closed, really show that special someone that you’re trying to put forth some effort to appear slightly post-neanderthal. Also, y’know, maybe watch a few cooking shows, read a couple cook books (see back to “b”) and learn a couple tricks. I’m telling you, special someones get mighty impressed (read: horny) when you bring them home to a nice, home-cooked meal. Even if it is grilled cheese, tomato soup, and Miller Lite.
A gift from on high, just like, don’t fart into the refrigerator while your beloved is cooking you dinner.
Alright, so wild card… Eventually you’re going to meet someone, and they’re going to be a GAME CHANGER. Let me explain. You’ve probably been in love, thought you’d been in love, really were in love, but aren’t in love and now you might be jaded, or just some weird shit involving love. Well, here’s the thing. Eventually, you’ll meet the game changer, and they’re going to fuck your whole world up. They’re going to make you want to get your shit together. You’d lay down in the street for that person. You take a bullet for them. There’s a sincerity that comes with the game changer that you’ll immediately pick up, and thus, you’ll understand, this is my game changer. Now, I’m not saying this will come at a certain point in time, and shit, I’m not even saying you should hold your breath for the game changer. But. You should always keep an open mind and be ready, because the game changer could show up any time, and you’ll have to be prepared for a whole new world. Cue Aladdin on his stupid flying carpet.
You need to just come to grips with this fact, when you were like 12, you figured out you could get weird with your own dick and things would happen; a mini-blackhole would gobble you up and spit you out, through the end of your own penis. You would then wake up as a freshly born fawn trying to coax its legs to working. Metaphorically, or something. So, then you perfected that over the next, like, ten years, twenty years, whatever. So, face it , you’re realllllllllly good at giving yourself a sweet heej, but understand, no one else is. Just deal.