The garden is still fully in charge, we froze over 100 quarts of sweet corn, we’re working on beets, digging carrots and drying onions.  It sucks more time out of my day than I can spare but I’ll revel in it in February when I’m tasting fresh, home grown food.  Don’t get me wrong, the garden sucks fat, pimply white ass but the fruits of it mediate that quite a bit.  It mediates it more in the dead of winter than it does right now, when the plenty weighs heavy and the sweat and tears weigh heavier.  Hard work has its own rewards even if some of the rewards are a sore, aching back and utter exhaustion.

I don’t do 9/11 anniversaries very well, any little thing brings me to tears and as you can imagine, Paratroopers don’t cry, farm kids don’t cry.  I spend a lot of time alone, by choice, during these times.  If I cry none of you will ever know for sure.

Enough depressing shit, lets get into the music.  Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.  I remember going into the voting booth and casting my ballot for Johnny McLame.  I remember throwing up into my mouth as I got ready to leave.  I remember every other candidate I voted for and every other scumbag who won…  Every one of them has given me “A Bad Liver and a Broken Heart.”

If your ideology, values and strongly held beliefs lead you to free market capitalism, individual liberty and the rest of the claptrap our founders espoused you’re now a white supremacist.  Voting for your local Republican will give you nothing more than a bad liver and a broken heart.  Like John McLame or Paul Ryan or Mitch McConnell or any of the other scumbags who don’t support their voting base, instead filling their own re-election and personal coffers.  I haven’t identified with the title “conservative” for many years.  It’s been denigrated by the liberral media and no longer bears any resemblance to the facts and ideology behind it.  Hell, today conservative, free-market, personal liberty, patriot, veteran and all of our descriptors are simply changed to “White Supremacist” by the liberal media.  We jump every time we hear a “dog-whistle” from our elected President.  While the same people who denigrate us use the recent hurricanes to push for our imprisonment as climate change deniers.

We made tshirts when I was in 1Panther (1/505PIR) that proclaimed us as the executors of the “Last 3 to 500 meters of national foreign policy.”  I executed that mission in Iraq and Afghanistan for two years.  I’m sick and tired of being denigrated by spoiled children who have never stood up for themselves in any way, shape, form or fashion.  For all of my life I have created my own safe spaces, like the one pictured below.

I’ve always been more than happy to share my safe spaces.  Please take note of the patch on that young Soldier’s shoulder.  It’s the All_American patch of the 82nd Airborne Division.  If you need a safe space…  create one, your a human, the top of the food chain, what you want is yours to take or create.

I only have one nerve left (the result of a dreadful military accident as a Sergeant First Class.)  Only one left, still there are people lined up to get on it like its the new roller-coaster at Six Flags.  “Break the Speed of Sound on Nessa’s Nerve!!  And hear language you never imagined.”  There’s about a four hour wait and you must be thirty-nine inches tall and possess pubic hair to ride this ride.  I ain’t playin’.

I’ve known some swamps in my travels down “The Lost Highway.”  I have been to Ft Stewart and walked 1400 meters on azimuth through nothing less than waist deep, sometimes neck deep water.  I spent three interminable years at Ft Polk LA.  The best thing about Ft Polk was seeing it your rear-view.  I can see now the swamp creatures have dammed up the pumps that were draining the swamp in DC.  Other aquatic swamp creatures have increased the flow of swamp water in…  Trump is, what we in the infantry referred to as Lima, Lima, Mike, Foxtrot(Lost Like a Mother F*cker.)  He couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were printed on the heel.  If you’re gonna drain the swamp you don’t perform fellatio and cunnilingus on the most evil swamp creatures.  The hydra in DC has 435 heads and each time one is cut off another bureaucracy replaces it.  Can you imagine Chucky’s version of “Tax Reform?”  Higher rates and more tax credits to those chosen minority groups.  He’ll lie about tax-cuts for the rich (small businessmen) and rape us all for his favorite identity politics group.  When’s the last time a democrat cut taxes?  Nancy doesn’t know if she’s on foot or horseback.

The swamp is winning.  We sent Trump alone into it like Hercules on one of his labors.  Even Hercules couldn’t drain the DC swamp, son of a god or no.  That leaves the Donald utterly unable.  But with our help, with us keeping him on track, with us manning the pumps it might be possible.  Too many voters were looking for a savior in the last election, one man can’t do it.  We need to “Keep Up The Fire.”  I’ll let looking for a savior end this bit of my CP.  It’s a funny, classic outlaw country song but it makes as much sense as expecting one man to drain the Swamp of DC.

Sam Outlaw won’t have any better luck than we will, unless we man the pumps, we’re f*cked.

 

nessa

Retired Paratrooper, Biker, Tattoo Artist