EVERYTHING I LOOK AT IS LAUGHABLE,
because it hasn't known the war.
Everything I look at is laughable, because it hasn't known this war. Washington, the word, is a joke to my
mutherfucking mind. The puppets and pixies who make mistakes there fart
like shitstink inside their pinstripe deathsuits. The Aeneid is
shit. Walter Cronkite, I rip your ass off. Those sorry Stones, they
think they know the half of it with the WACs on the cover of that record
album, the gold star for a WWII veteran. There's a reason they'll never
dare to make a Vietnam veteran into a gold star, and that's only partly
because the term Vietnam veteran will only conjure reactions of menace
and despicable ambivalence. People never knew they could care so little
about a flesh 'n' blood human who went to combat before the stinkpit of
Vietnam came along, a lovely country with a bunch of yeast-infection
autocrats invading its inner recesses and sending bacteria like boils
into its inner plague.