The Illimitable Ocean of Inexplicability

Month: May, 2014

An early incarnation of Canyon Pete and Billy*? (or something else entirely, something too horrifying to imagine, something, perhaps, diabolical in nature?)

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That’s what some are saying

Who can know for sure

There’s no telling

They’re not talking

Oh, no!

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Panic, sheer panic. We all enjoy it. Flying off the handle, just going plain nuts, losing your shit, good times.

But, please

try to control yourselves just this once

We’ll figure this out

It’s probably not Canyon Pete and Billy

How could it be?

Though

Frighteningly

one of them

is pointing to something

in a book

what book?

I wonder

Did a chill

just run up

your spine?

Yeah,

mine, too.

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.* For those unaware

Canyon Pete and Billy are characters who originally appeared in the cartoon ‘Canyon Pete and Billy’ created by Jack Abernathy in 1963 and which ran daily (and on Sundays in colour) in The Sydney Morning Herald from 1963 until early 1971 when  a group of children from the suburb of Woolloomooloo, after they, as many of the children involved claimed at the time, read an installment of ‘Canyon Pete and Billy’ then went about on bicycles, riding across lawns, and in some cases through gardens, using inappropriate language and generally terrorizing the neighborhood for nearly three quarters of an hour, their behavior being described by an eye witness at the time as ” acting like they had all cracked a fruity”. Though the riot was eventually quelled by a unit from the Special Air Service Regiment a nationwide petition was started by the group, Australians Against the Use of Inappropriate Language which, through a nation wide campaign, garnered millions of signatures and lead to the banning of ‘Canyon Pete and Billy’ from further publication.

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The cartoon which caused the children to behave badly
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Years after the furor, Jack Abernathy, living in Torrance, California, and employed as a manager at a local Toys R Us, was befriended by a tech savvy young millenial who, having seen old copies of the ‘Canyon Pete and Billy’ cartoon piled amongst the other rubbish in Abernathy’s squalid apartment, convinced the old man to make more of the cartoons for publishing on the internet. Unfortunately, a week later, distressed by the pressure of producing funny gags and under the influence of alcohol, Abernathy fled into the Mojave desert where it is presumed he died. The young tech savvy millenial, upon receiving a large grant from The Institute for the Study of Slightly Varying Circumstances employed the artist Archie Jenkins, called “the creative mastermind” by Artnews magazine, and went ahead with publishing new ‘Canyon Pete and Billy’ cartoons.

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A Careful Consideration of Things You Care About

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interaction.

I know, I know, you’re thinking “No one would ever give the things I care about careful consideration”, but you, like usual, would be wrong. I do.

That’s not just some empty boast given by a guy who has to work two jobs to keep food on the table for his kids, Caroline and Benjamin, all the while striving in a million ways to please his adorable but demanding wife, Ellen, no, I really mean it. The few fleeting moments of free time available to me when not under the yoke of my corporate masters I devote fully to the understanding of what is important to you even as insurmountable debt and major layoffs loom largely on my horizon. Is it my cross to bear? I don’t know? Did that famous messiah from Nazareth that people are all gaga about understand what was required of him? I doubt it. So, I guess I just have to play my assigned part, if that’s the way the Big Guy wants it, because obviously, to  paraphrase my pal Alfred, “Mine is not to wonder why, mine is just to care deeply about all of humanities concerns”.

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I don’t really have any kids named Caroline and Benjamin or a wife called, Ellen.

and

I don’t work two jobs either

or

have any debt

because

Now, don’t tell anyone, this is just between you and me

but

I’m part of the 1 percent

shhhhhh

Oh

the rest is true though

I do give your cares careful consideration

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.yours truly,

The President and Founder

The Institute

for the Study of

Slightly Varying Circumstances

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You remember don’t you? It was when I was known as “Conceitedly Assertive and Dogmatic Guy”

 

 

 

moremonstersWhat I must be reminded of whenever leaving the highly secure and isolated grounds of The Institute

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Just a moment ago while I painted my backdoor with a third and final coat of chalkboard paint (in order that I may remind myself of things I must never forget upon exiting my home) I allowed my mind to travel freely back to a time not so long ago when within the no small confines of a certain social media network I was known, loved, celebrated and scorned by individuals from all walks of life living in a variety of far flung locales all across this big blue marble we call Earth. At that time I went by the handle ‘Conceitedly Assertive and Dogmatic Guy’, and, believe you me, it wasn’t just some honorary title, it was, as much as a handful of words can be, a complete a description of me as you’re ever likely to get. Boy, there were times I’d just let it rip. There was no stopping me. It would not, in the least, have surprised me if the speed of my typing fingers combined with the sting of every word that was formed did cause my computer to burst into a ball of flame which would grow larger and larger engulfing everything in sight until all that was left of this spinning rock (we call Earth) was a charred unrecognizable husk floating in the blackness of the void looked down upon by a inconsolably weeping supreme being, the creator of all there is, and all there ever was or will be, my archenemy, the one you insignificant mortals call “God”. Of course this never actually happened, but I’m almost positive it could have. I have a few ideas about a ritual that could be performed in which the sound of the keys on the keyboard in conjunction with the pattern of the keys hit might bring about what the Norse called “Ragnarok”, but I have a few things I’d like to do (e.g. learn a foreign language, travel to Paris in the spring time, stop my Father from wearing puffy white sneakers, drive a Lamborghini at high speeds through the streets of L.A. while being pursued by the police)  before trying it, you know, in case it really works.

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What would have transpired had the Hotel Detective not been “outta sight”?

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I can only imagine, while you may know from personal experience, what events would have, by the Detective’s presence, been set in motion, and also, what events would have never happened

However

The answer I would provide if pressed, my answer as usual, the answer I, The President and Founder, alone am allowed to utter aloud, is

“There’s no telling”.

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 Regardless of our having no answers, not any that make a difference at least, there comes a time when you really can no longer speak like a child, you can’t think like a child either, and you really ought not reason like a child (though I am sure we can all agree there are times when this is quite tempting), instead, you need to behave like a man, or if you’re a woman, then, well, you know. The reason I mention this is because for a while I have been sporadically posting a cartoon called “Canyon Pete and Billy” wherein no matter the situation presented the last panel contains the same profane curse every single time. I admit I found this hilarious, so much so, that sometimes, even while performing Ops at a local Wal-Mart with my Covert Operation Club, I would bust out laughing just thinking about it. This, needless to say, infuriated my teammates and resulted almost always in our “termination” from play.  However, as unpleasant as that could be, it was not what got me thinking that maybe the Canyon Pete and Billy cartoons were childish. What did, not only get me thinking, but also made up my mind about the “Canyon Pete and Billy Question” once and for all was an interaction I had with a young child who, having become separated from his family at the area’s poorly run and very dangerous amusement park, somehow, inexplicably, found his way onto the freeway where gigantic semi trucks (like monstrous sulfur breathing dragons of old) flew past him at breakneck speeds, and the other drivers in their vans, trucks, sedans and what have you only became annoyed by his presence there, honking their horns at him (like screeching birds (disgusting in smell, and, if that were not enough, being unpleasantly soiled as well) risen from some redolent abyss (filled with a million rotting corpses) in search of the tender flesh of human children), until (thinking “something should be done about this”) heroically I pulled my Lincoln Town Car (the most commonly used limousine and chauffeured car in the United States and Canada) over to the side of the road and then, after turning my hazard lights on to warn passing motorists, rolled the window of my automobile down just enough to be sure the boy could hear me, but not so much to allow in a deadly amount of the poisonous gasses, created by all those fossil based fuel engines, (yelling to be heard over the din) asked the small child, his face streaked black and his shirt (advertising a major brand I now cannot recall) torn and stained, if he needed my assistance, and he, looking directly in my eyes, responded, “Go fuck yourself”.

In just a matter of hours after leaving the child there on the freeway, and stopping at a Plaid Pantry for a salty snack along with a cold sugary beverage (and as always being delayed by the endless yabbering of the very large store clerk with a dragon tattoo on his forearm who sells his hair for wigs), I vowed to be done with the childish Canyon Pete and Billy and immediately (and without blinking an eye) replace them with a cartoon of a different order, a cartoon with adult themes, a cartoon addressing issues relevant to things that people who are not children would want to have things relevant to, and any of the other stuff  grown ups facing the challenges of being grown ups would possibly be interested in, and that is, I believe, exactly what I accomplished.

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AND NOW

PLEASE, WELCOME

THESE ALL NEW

ADVENTURES

SURE TO

BRING A SMILE TO YOUR FACE

AND

CREATE MEMORIES

TO LAST A LIFETIME

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DO NOT FRET

Canyon Pete and Billy aren’t really gone. You know there’s no stopping them! My getting rid of them was simply a a dramatic device used to promote “The Floating Head and Wilson” brand.

IN CASE YOU WERE UNAWARE

The lyrics in the above “premier cartoon” are from the classic rock hit by Grand Funk Railroad

it is called

“We’re an American Band”

OH, YEAH, AND BY THE WAY

I own every mother@#*%!! right to the above and every other God#@%&! thing that I ever put on this  bull#%$^&! site, so watch your &#$%!, got it?

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This hastily executed drawing

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Was it with

excessive speed

or urgency

perhaps

hurriedly

maybe it was

a combination of all three!

Ha ha!

Yes

we do now know

the determining factors

but we cannot help but wonder

were they

really honestly

beyond

your willful control?

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It  was in the spring of the year 201_ that I took a small but comfortable room above a Cobbler’s¹ shop in a part of town some had once thought would see a revival, though due to various economic reasons, I admit to not understanding or caring to, this neighborhood instead slowly deteriorated into an area of debauchery and devastation . I took the room not because I was without funds, far from it, for I had, thanks to my dear Uncle Silas, a quite handsome allowance which would have permitted me to find rooms in any of the most fashionable parts of the city if I so chose to do so. Neither did I take the room as a hideout from the authorities, in fact, I had no dealings with them at all, being that while in public I never behaved in a manner that would give them cause to treat me roughly or did ever associate with that class of people who are on a first name basis with the local constables².I simply chose the room for its location on a street where I had been told in confidence by an eastern mystic, the acquaintance of which I had made while at one of my Uncle’s strange parties³, who told me that it was there on the very street my room now overlooked that I would discover the determining factors beyond willful control.

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¹ I apologize if this lead you to imagine that I had found lodging above the shop of someone who repairs shoes, for I was myself unaware, until some time after writing the above when I took a pair of much loved boots in to be resoled, that although the shop’s sign did indeed read, “The Cobbler”, it had nothing whatsoever to do with shoes. In actuality the shop was a provider of any and all imaginable products associated with a mountain, located near the head of Long Loch in Scotland, which is commonly called, The Cobbler, though some, but not many, call it, Ben Arthur, which, according to a book available within the shop, is “one of the most impressive summits in the Southern Highlands”. Oddly, my room, and the shop as well, is not located anywhere near Scotland.

² It is not my intention to suggest that I in any way find those employed within law enforcement unworthy of my friendship or that they are beneath my station, though technically they are, for, in truth, as I am often heard to remark, after imbibing more than my fair share  at the Savile Club, “I will have you know that among my dearest friends I count, at any given time, at least three cops”

³ Because of his fabulous wealth my Uncle Silas is able to sponsor less than savory sports, and all forms of questionable entertainments at his parties. I do hope this brief explanation allows you to understand, without my divulging more details than would be prudent, the presence, and my subsequent meeting there, of an eastern mystic.

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The Determining Factors.

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Indefatigable assiduity

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The first ray of light which illumines the gloom, and converts into a dazzling brilliancy that obscurity in which the earlier history of the public career of the immortal Pickwick would appear to be involved, is derived from the perusal of the following entry in the Transactions of the Pickwick Club, which the editor of these papers feels the highest pleasure in laying before his readers, as a proof of the careful attention, indefatigable assiduity, and nice discrimination, with which his search among the multifarious documents confided to him has been conducted.

Chapter 1, first paragraph

The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club

by Charles Dickens

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If you are not acquainted with the Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club I urge you to immediately rectify this situation. Now, right now, leave whatever it is you are doing and find a copy of it. The whole book is available on line for free if you are unable to locate a bookstore (oh, the horror of it) or are unsure of whether it is available on kindle or whatever other electronic devilry they have enslaved you with, so, go get it, read it, change your life.

or

perhaps not

I am aware, though I by no means dwell upon the fact, that people do not necessarily share my opinions on a wide variety of subjects, what books are worth reading being but one of them.

However

I do believe (simply because I choose to, because it makes me feel good, because it keeps away the terror) that The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club should, if any book could (and how this would happen I do not know, but would be willing to conjecture on the whys and wherefores late into the evening), become some distant future world’s Holy Book.

You can say I’m a dreamer

but I’m not

I’m a

Contemplator

there’s a big difference

and one of them is we don’t associate ourselves with John Lennon, and have little patience for those invaders from Britain that he at one time had as his acquaintances.

but, please, excuse me

that was unnecessarily mean spirited

and

I have gone completely off subject, veered into territory I have made an oath not to expose you to until you prove yourself ready.

What I am here to tell you is that just the other day I purchased a rather nice copy of The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club which, most fortunately for you, allows me to tell of a post I made not so long ago titled

The Occurrence of Circumstance within The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club

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which, if you have not read it

I urge you to now

as it will

change

your life

Go

go and read it now

for

within there is

what may be

along with

the only comprehensive listing of circumstances

found in

The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club

but other things as well

strange and wonderful

However

Be warned

this way leads to

Chapel Perilous¹

 

Click here to be magically transported to the aforementioned circumstances

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And here’s the book!

It’s got pictures!

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.The book, printed one year after the end of  ‘WORLD WAR II: The Germans Have Pissed us off for the last time’, was most likely purchased shortly thereafter (by the wife of a businessman), placed on a shelf, and forgotten only to experience over 50 years of must and dust until arriving at the bookstore from which I purchased it.

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.¹ Chapel Perilous, like the mysterious entity called “I,” cannot be located in the space-time continuum; it is weightless, odorless, tasteless and undetectable by ordinary instruments. Indeed, like the Ego, it is even possible to deny that it is there. And yet, even more like the Ego, once you are inside it, there doesn’t seem to be any way to ever get out again, until you suddenly discover that it has been brought into existence by thought and does not exist outside thought. Everything you fear is waiting with slavering jaws in Chapel Perilous…

– ‘Cosmic Trigger’ Robert Anton Wilson

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It was envisaged (by a council of wise elders) that I would appear riding upon the creature’s back under a waxing crescent moon

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house creature

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Back in the olden times

before even your father’s father

took his first desperate gasp

(wanting without question to live)

(though there were times later that he wasn’t as enthusiastic about the whole thing)

 It was considered incorrect

to use a clause

after envisage

but now

oh yes

now

like so many things

in this world gone mad

this world of debauchery

this world of “anything goes”

this world that practically begs

cries out

asks incessantly

calls nightly

leaves long rambling messages

texts uncontrollably

wants terribly

waits impatiently

with baited breath

for me

The President and Founder

(who just so happens to wear a type of hat called ‘The Sovereign’ which I have no doubt that you are aware means: A person who has supreme power or authority, so, I’m sure you can put two and two together, can’t you?)

to appear

dressed in some formal

nay

some ritual attire

on this beast

(pictured above)

from some hell undreamt

and

wreak havoc

(that’s right, havoc)

upon all inhabitants of this planet

(or, upon the creatures who cling desperately to the surface of this rocky sphere (with a sight flattening at the poles) spinning wildly in the frigid darkness of space)

but

I won’t do it

can’t really

too busy

my apologies

but

you’re gonna have to find

someone else to take part

in your

sick fantasies

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The above and other writings of varying quality to be available in the sure to be big time seller e-book

A bloody eyeball, check! A crucifix, check! A grinning skull, check!

All present and accounted for, sir!

The collected writings of the one we call, Sovereign

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 My (very) personal thoughts on

.It was envisaged (by a council of wise elders) that I would appear riding upon the creature’s back under a waxing crescent moon

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,1. I really wanted to convey the idea of a long time ago here, like before anyone had ever even heard of Jesus, that long ago, but I couldn’t get past the “Father’s Father” thing no matter how I tried, every time I tried to get rid of it I just kept thinking “But, it sounds so cool, kinda old timey”. Was I right? The readers will have to decide.

2. I definitely have misgivings about the apparent direction this (ol’) world is headed in. It seems bad somehow, but what can you do? It has definitely gone mad though , hasn’t it? It’s not just me, is it? I hope not.

3. I admit to not actually being very knowledgeable about texting being that I do not own a cell phone. A long time ago, but not so long ago that it is shrouded in the mists of time, a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless out of fear that someone reading this will recognize his name, and then, through a series of relatively simple mental steps, figure out who I am, and then (as they say), it will be all over.) and I used to drive around in his El Camino for hours with what is called a “500 series” rotary phone on the dashboard pretending, while at stoplights and also while driving, to be speaking on it as if it really worked. Fun.

4. There is a one of those dichotomy type situations in my presentation of myself as a supreme power or authority (bringing to mind an iron-fisted despot, or tyrannical ruler), and the truth of my day to day life which could be more easily compared to a Holy Man or spiritual leader, kind of “Special Adviser to God” sort of guy.

5. I was (excuse the language, please) fucking psyched to be able to use the word “nay” in the above something having qualities one could, if skilled, convince others were suggestive of poetry. Around the Institute it is often said, “It’s a good day to say nay”.

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6. ……..

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The Proper Technique for Viewing a Two Sided Drawing with an up close look at a still digital image of both sides of the two sided drawing from the short film mentioned before

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That’s a somewhat ungainly title, though it does tell what needs to be told.
Anyway
Here is a short, and I mean, very short, film (so short you’ll hardly notice you’ve watched anything at all), which other than being called short could (depending on the person and the various circumstances they have either endured or find themselves in at the moment) possibly also be described as interesting, exciting, strange, good fun, boring, the worst, dumb, foolishness, evil, satanic, ungodly, etc..,etc….

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Alright, you watched it, and now you can put on your CV that you have received training in the proper technique for viewing a two sided drawing!

Now, before we look at the digital image of the two sided drawing you saw in the film I would like to blow my own horn a little, if you don’t mind.

-Begin horn blowing-

While I am not the originator of drawing on both sides of a sheet of paper, I am one of the few, if not the only practitioner of this technique who has, due to his love of viewers like you, proposed a film be made (and subsequently have it made by the much praised auteur, Mr. Jack Olson) demonstrating how one should properly view a two-sided drawing.

-End horn blowing-

OK

Let’s have a look!

Two drawings done on opposite sides of the same sheet of paper!

twoside

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Before you go, please, allow me to give credit to my Mother, for it was she who encouraged me (with words perhaps more harsh than were necessary, but said out of love nonetheless) to draw on both sides of the paper, Thank you, Mother, this post is for you.

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.Also:

You may have made note in the film of the fingernails, and if so, I wish to assure you that their appearance is only to add realism to the part of Howard Hughes the demonstrator was playing at the time in his local theater group’s production of a play I wrote called ‘Howard, can you hear me?’, about a little boy who is befriended by the ghost of Howard Hughes after his Father is killed on September 11th.

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I could not have said it better myself (though I desperately hope to some day*)

 

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OR

MUH-MUH-MUH-MUH-MUH-MUH-MUHMORIAL DAY!

 

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There’s a feeling comes a-stealing,

And it sets my brain a-reeling,

When I’m list’ning to the music of a military band.

Any tune like “Yankee Doodle”

Simply sets me off my noodle,

It’s that patriotic something that no one can understand.

– George M. Cohan

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netflixbeing the part of a standard Netflix envelope which after being torn away is summarily disposed of within a trash receptacle

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* and when, and when I do, I won’t be leaving out Pork Chop Hill, that’s for damn sure! Listen I know in the early days they called the Korean War a “police action” and, obviously, those words have long haunted the men who served and died there (well, not died. Technically, if you believe this sort of thing, they’re (the dead) the ones doing the haunting), but that’s no excuse! Would I were to be the one writing this I’d a said something about it! How about just a “And who will ever forget the hilarious hi-jinx of those Doctors and Nurses of M.A.S.H. caring for our fighting men…, or something like that, you get the idea, euphemistic blasphemy!

Oh, and somehow, I don’t, can’t imagine how, I missed the “by saying thank you for enduring The Longest Day so that our children would never have to.” Now, I hate to be picking at a scab but… The Longest Day is a film about D-Day which took place near the end of World War Two which was followed by military actions in the following:

Korea 1950-1953

Cuba 1961

Vietnam 1961-1973

Dominican Republic 1965

Lebanon 1982

Grenada 1983

Panama 1989

Gulf War 1991

Somalia 1993

Haiti 1994

Bosnia 1994-1995

Kosovo 1999

Afghanistan 2001-?

Iraq 2003-2010

So our children would never have to?

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Under pain of everlasting inconvenience*

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to serve to remind
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They had said “never”, and meant it. Looking down, as some do, from on high (The Above) and even some (by no means a majority, and seemingly getting smaller every year) near (or as close as can be approximated, from the necessary distance, to) the In Between, who, again as we have witnessed on countless occasions, and so are not in the least surprised, often mimic the behavior of those in The Above when the those that receive the official “Imputation of Blame”  are the sorrowful creatures that inhabit what is referred to as “The Below”.

And so,

Most, if not yourself, though I have my doubts about your claims to the contrary, did, if not truly, at least wished sincerely, that it be true for some, that is, those who they did not so much care for, but of those they viewed not like the others, but more like them (it was that) they did generally agree (e.g., if they had (as a child), while entering the School they attended on a particularly cold day wearing a rather puffy coat, been called “Fatso”, if there Mother and Father lived more than 40 minutes drive time away) that the punishment did seem somewhat severe.

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.* Originally presented to the Institute’s Society of Contemplative Masters, who, after the incident which is memorialized in some form of statuary found within one, if not more, parks in nearly every major city, and so, no doubt heard of (at least) by you when sitting idly awaiting a commemorative meal with relations who would talk incessantly of it, were disbanded and then subsequently outlawed by the anti-President and Founder from his headquarters on a rocky outcrop between the black lake and the green sea in the land of the unfriendly.

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