Pass the ammo

For thirty years I fought for you all. I carried the burden. I pulled the weight. I made the sacrifice. You enjoyed Starbucks, and went to college with tuition assistance, and took jobs as checkers in head-shops. I came home from time to time, and you said dumb shit to me. Dumb shit, like "I hope you weren't the guy that did such and such, cause if you are I'll kick your ass." That from some random kid working in a record/CD store the first time I came home, a million years ago from my first war. My mother saved your life, just by being there. You had no idea.

Time went on, and I came home less and less. You kept saying stupid shit, and the longer I was gone fighting for you, the more removed your statements became from my reality.

Thirty years, and now I can't tell whether you're from my homeland, or some kind of enemy infiltrator, or infil-Traitor. I fought for you. I sacrificed so you could be better. I came home and you're some kind of weak-hearted version of what I swore to fight. I know I can wipe you out. I've killed and killed and I sleep just fine, because my cause was (and is) Just. Yet here you are, weak and crying, corrupt and serving the enemy. You sound like little Hitlers or Stalins. Pick one, they were the same.

I'm done fighting, I think. I want to come home. But I need to pass the ammo to someone. I need you to take the ammo, but you won't. I'll pass it to my own children, if you make me. They at least know who their Father is and understand what it means to take up their Father's Sword. If you won't, they will. We'll keep it in the family for this generation, if you refuse to stand.

But what about the next thirty years? My children will grow to hate your children, because you'll raise them weak, or worse. The enemy is coming, and if you aren't very careful, your own children will join them. And if they do, will there be an America worth saving? Will your grandchildren be the poorest of the poor to make the world fair? Will they join the enemy to make the world fair? Will they be slaves to make it even? If they will, why am I fighting for you? I bought you the time, the space. Will you use it? Will you save my great Nation? Or will you piss it away? I want to pass the ammo. I've paid and paid again for the chance to make a better world, but who among you will take the ammo and finish the job?

A better world isn't going to be even. It isn't going to be equal for all, because that means everyone has to be slaves and poor as hell. A better world, a chance to be something great, has to be based on America, because that's the best thing going. Want to stop the suffering? Me too. Make everyone and everyplace American. It's the best chance we have, I promise. With the American model, anyone can become more than they were when they started. You can try to argue, but I am the evidence that refutes your false and subversive attempts. I started poorer than you, and now I'm not. My existence is proof that the system works. I believe. Take the ammo I'm trying to pass you. Take up my sword. Make the world better. Believe.