The fawning over the warriors who have provided me with the freedom to write these words continues in its overwhelming pace today. I previously have offered my thoughts about this glorification, and the psychological / religious needs of those doing the fawning. But, as the praise continues, I think it is appropriate that I return to this topic.
For this, Americans sing praises – in church and arena:
They shoot without shame
In the name of a piece of dirt
For a change of accent
Or the colour of your shirt
Better the pride that resides
In a citizen of the world
Than the pride that divides
When a colourful rag is unfurled
A gang or the protector of my freedom? In the eyes of the one on the sending end of the beating, is there a difference? How about in the eyes of the one on the receiving end?