Tuesday, January 09, 2007

We Have to Shout above the din of our Rice Krispies...

Daddy only stares into the distance...

Exerpt email to an old trading friend who joined the fucking army last year, right before the Second Platoon in Iraq:

Hey .......!

Things are awful here in the city and the trading life! I'm attempting to become an options trader at the Nymex/Comex/Nybot etc. I wear a jacket that's too big, and get paid minimum wage for running around like an idiot.

How are things with you?
It's a great country, filled with joy and sorrow at all times.

I think I might join the army if nothing turns up at the end of my quest by summer 07. I want to shoot guns and be able to automatically switch my philosophy and morals to Existential when I'm shooting the hell out of relative enemies.

I'm ready.

to kill.


p.s. Seriously, if I had brian johnson vocals ACDC blasting on a fucking ipod on my outdated kevlar vest during ground warfare, I'd hopefully get one confirmed kill before getting my arm blown off(endorphins kick in at my shock so I only feel bizarro pain to the point where I can't feel it) and then I get blasted by a blunderbuss or collateral daisy cutter. Better than getting slowly tortured and beheaded with an rusty knife slowly and then be played over and over again on Youtube).


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