Some people ask why David Threnody joined the military.  He wasn’t a failure.  He had other options.  Some people think he was influenced from what he learned out on the golf course, caddying for that old Colonel—a veteran of the first Great War.  Influenced from his time spent in Mississippi.  But that’s not really it.  David had his reasons for joining the Army, and I’d like to say he was just following that voice.  That voice he heard inside him.

            In a popular World War II cartoon strip there was a character who was a naive, confused, lazy, bumbling private—a character happy enough, and almost lovable. That’s how he was portrayed at least, but in real life it was something else.  Un-softened by cartoons.  Something ugly in our history.  Something covered up.  For in real life there wasn’t the naiveté.   There was the real reaction.  The real reaction to hatred that bears hate.  For in real life this character was really a miserable person.  And unhappy himself he tried to make everyone around him equally miserable. He was filled with hate for the hatred he felt—for his officers, for the Army, for other blacks, Jews… whoever—all establishments…  And whenever he could get away with it, he was a bully.  He was a habitual liar.  He disappeared when real work or fighting had to be done.  And not only did he fail to carry his weight, he was a constant and serious drain on efficiency.  He was a mean, vicious son of a bitch, without a redeeming virtue.   He was the effects of what always happens in things not created equal.  He was the effects of segregation.  He was Jim Crow…

            And it is that question.  That question left unanswered.  That question that left unanswered leads to crucifixions—what is truth?  For it is where we stop.  Where we stop when we examine origins—that gives us our truth.  And am I wrong?  How do you know?  How do you know unless you go back further?  Further back in origins—in your search for the originating starting point?  That is how you know.  Your truth where you stop.  Where you stop at where you believe it starts.  This relativity.  A relation to a motion.  And what finally is un-moving.  Your point of view defining whether it’s an end-point, or a starting point.  The radius of an arc.  Going round and round in an unending number.  And what is unending having no start—no origin.  Leaving you with the question.  The question that can’t be answered except in reference intervals.  All blame and all credit merely temporary names, labels to the motion, to the revolution.  Giving you your unstable perspective.  Your unstable resolve.  And so like many others before you there is nothing you can do.  You can do nothing—say nothing—that is true.  And you are left to wash your hands.  Wash your hands of it.  The one and only true sentence…

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