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The Forgotten Ones
Once again, kiddies, it is time for Uncle Bubba’s semi-annual rant. Speaking of which, does ‘semi-annual’ mean “occurring twice a year” or “once every other year”? I can never keep it straight in my mind. Maybe I mean ‘bi-annual’, who knows? I intend for it to mean “occurring twice a year”. So sit down, wipe that silly smirk off your face and pay attention. This is important, dammit, and I won’t put up with a bunch of shenanigans while I’m talking, either. You’ll have your opportunity someday, if you listen to your elders once in a while and learn to quit being such a dumb ass all the time.
Now, first of all, let’s get up front about the piercings. Stop it. It is not cute nor is it glamorous nor is it cool. It is merely disgusting. First of all, Luther Ray, no one wants to see your tongue at all… in fact, we don’t even like to hear you use it much less watch. So, when I see that little metal ball sticking out of your mouth, believe me when I tell you that sexy is not an adjective which immediately comes to mind. Hard as it may be to believe, the possibility exists that there still may be someone, somewhere who finds you, ummm… for want of a really descriptive word, let’s just use...(gulp)... attractive. I mean, it could happen… maybe not in this time zone, but somewhere. Why risk a possible hook-up made in heaven, just because you’re capable of setting off an airport metal detector?
Next, tattoos… I think I need to remind you of something. Are you listening? Okay, here goes:
Charlie Manson is in prison. If there is a God in Heaven, he is going to stay in prison. Your attempts to glorify him and have us associate you with him by decorating your body in anti-social graffiti are not going to change it. Just thought I’d point that out.
You really want us to know how counter-culture and anti-establishment and totally whack you are? Go hire a mechanical contractor to bulldoze your room and then go apply for a job somewhere. That ought to do the trick…when word gets out, none of your friends will come within a city block of you- oh, wait, been there done that. Sorry…
Better yet, how about this… do you remember driving past that VA Hospital downtown? Why not go down there and take a look around? There’s a ward of patients there that might pique your interest. You see, they’re different, too, a little like you, only they don’t have any options. 'Shell Shocked', 'Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome'… you've heard the names. You've seen their faces with the blank, 1000-meter stares. Gaunt eyes look out and see nothing. It happened in the First and Second Wars, Korea, Vietnam and the Gulf. It is indigenous to war. Healthy men and women with no shrapnel, bullet wounds, or malaria become casualties of war; trapped inside themselves, victims of demons known only to them. Demons sap their sleep and replace it with the silent terror and haunting memories of wars that never end.
These are the forgotten ones. There are no monuments erected to them; no medals issued for their pain. They quietly languish in Veteran's hospitals across this nation. They are caught in time and unable to escape. The Veteran's Administration’s budget has been drastically reduced and the Forgotten Ones slip deeper into time as a result.
You can make a difference. You owe it to them to make a difference. A trip to a hospital to say hello; a few words from someone can perform miracles. Just go down there and listen to them, let them know they aren't forgotten. It can make a monumental difference in their lives and yours.
Come on… show me how tough you really are. Come with me. Then, you’ll earn the counter-culture status you so eagerly seek.
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