In short,

I am Starvin like Marvin. (I am out of money at this present moment)

When I open my fridge, I see two / three week maybe four old week old fried rice.

(But who keeps up with these kinds of things? “Concept of Time?” never been on my mind. I never take the time…to give a shit)

I’m just livin’ and dyin’ in three-quarter time…

No one would eat this

Except me.

Y’all think I’m joking?

Here /Below is what is on my menu:

Three-week frozen in my freezer and sworn by me to never eat.

Funny how one can lose pontifications and noble Protestant-if-i-cantations when feeling them hunger vibrations… When it comes down to brass tacks, we all have a “purchase” price.

I was twce almost a Navy SEAL.

Bugs in food never bothered us (My Bud/s Classmates and me during Hell Week. We were always so hungry we would have eaten anything.

Running in Soft Sand: Part Two

I am cognizant of the history of my country.

I have read extensively on the Death March to Bataan.

***

And as a mid-ample ‘Author’s Note’ dropped in here at ‘mid-post’: I know the misery of ‘Bridge Over The River Kwai.’ I know of what that meant. It was actually about a lot of bridges. A lot of rivers. A lot of torture.

Suffering unimaginable by today’s Snow-Flake-Standards. A lot of dead men. A lot of horror. I study history. The bullshit Hollywood version was just that. Bullshit. Sanitzed for your protection. Cinematically Good as it was, still bullshit.

I read the ‘first-hand’ accounts. Didn’t live them, but did not swallow the Hollywood Versions either.

***

So…

If I must be compelled to eat rice infested and rancid,

I just remember.

Bataan

And heros.

Brave men.

And then

I remember how easy my life is. Has been made so easy

By past American Heros.

I never forget

Nor

Fail to appreciate.

And there is no room for ‘complain’ in my game.

I will survive this.

***

****

I just wish I could whistle…

***

That’s Right.

You’re Not From Texas!

How could you even begin to possibly understand?

We made of sterner stuff

Just sayin’