"The war seemed as far away as the football games of someone else’s college. But I knew from the papers that they were still fighting in the mountains because the snow would not come." Hemingway Chapter 38, pg. 291
Black Friday. Cyber Monday. War Endorsement Tuesday.
Dateline: West Point, December 1, 2009.
Just don’t tell me to go shopping, Obama.
Tell me this war has to end.
No surge. Not one more broken soldier. No more lost lives. No more suicides. No more PSD’s. No more Messengers
“Finish the war”, you say.
Yes finish it by ending it.
I understand you play poker, Obama.
If so, you know the odds.
This war is so complex and depends upon some many assumptions that the chances for success are minimal at best.
Fold ‘em, Obama.
Walk away, announce our withdrawal, and tell them you will not run in 2012.
Afghanistan is dirty. They have a corrupt government. Our soldiers are sitting ducks. For what? Nation building.
Let’s build up our own nation, Mr. President.
We can’t fight two wars. It is bankrupting our treasury, bankrupting our military (how many more tours), and bankrupting our psyche.
“The mental wreckage among the soldiers is astounding. Sgt. Adam Schumann spent over a thousand days in the country, and finally, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, couldn’t shake images like that of a man he’d shot sinking into mud as he died. You could see that he had reached his limit, Finkel says: “You could see it in his shaking hands. You could see it in the three prescription bottles in his room: one to steady his galloping heart rate, one to reduce his anxiety, one to minimize his nightmares.” He writes of another soldier, reflecting on the carnage inflicted on his buddies, who “took off his armor and lay down against it and woke up a few hours later with the sinking feeling a person gets when he realizes that nothing changed while he was asleep, that all of it is still true.”
Enough, Mr. President, enough.
Didn’t you read about LBJ?
Folks tell me this isn’t Viet Nam, but it sure looks like it to me.
Institute the draft and you will see this fucking war ended by New Year’s.
One writer said that “So much of the Presidency, … is a matter of waking up in the morning and trying to drink from a fire hydrant”
Please Mr. President. Shut off the war spigot.