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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Gauguin who wrote (12067)	8/21/1998 11:39:00 PM
From: Rambi	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

Addendum: Dan is now playing Goldeneye on our Nintendo 64, shooting all these guys, blood spewing, really a very graphic game. He loves it.. "Why are you killing all these poor men?" I asked. "I do it for a living," he said. "That's disgusting." "OK-I'm doing it for democracy and to preserve our way of life," he said. "Then you're a hero," I said, and went into a lengthy alcohol-enriched discussion of recent posts as he shot man after man, and even some women. Ammo came in from his movie which was really violent, and asked what I was talking about. The concept fascinated him. That WHY you did something predicated the moral value of it. CW came in. He listened for a minute and said, "I'm going to bed." Dan is still killing people. Ammo has gone to finish Starship Troopers which he's reading. I'm giving up.

To: Gauguin who wrote (12067)	8/24/1998 12:26:00 PM
From: Jacques Chitte	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

I will interrupt this ethereal intellectual exchange on the texture of martial ethics with a flashback to when my size of Levis stabilized. I remember not being entirely averse to the draft. (I had to submit Selective Service papers.) Despite outspokenly war-averse parents (You have allergies. Your eyes suck. You have a heart murmur. Run with it!!) I remember forming my own opinions about honor and civic duty and all the other glossy varnishes we adolescents put on the Miracle of Testosterone. The idea of being able to carry an M60, become proficient in its use and care, and then mow down great shoals of the faceless, soulless Enemy is intoxicating to male highschooler. Most of'em anyway. Well, I'm older now, I have weapons of my own to show me that caring for one is quite the chore, and the novelty of testosterone (and its attendant acne) is long gone. So now the salient qualities of an M60 are its 30-plus-pound dry weight, its odor, its awful noisy operating signature, and how the 200-round belt trips me up right where the Gooks used fresh dung to starch a mudhole.