To The Lost: Drive on. Don’t Mean Nothing.
Mike Essig

Vietnam was the beginning of the lies, the incompetence, the flushing bad thoughts down the memory hole. I left the country of my childhood and came back to a place I didn’t know anymore. Nothing that’s happened in all the years since has reassured me: not raising a family, not good fortune in many things. The dry rot has continued to eat away at us, even as one president declared it Morning in America, another proclaimed a New World Order, and a third boasted Mission Accomplished. And now the syphilis has broken out in all its third-stage fury: a president not fit to take an American soldier or sailor’s salute, much less command them. A Congress that doesn’t know what it’s doing and doesn’t care, as long as it meets its payments to its backers’ bagmen. And the children of the men I served with bellow their heads off in rallies supporting the whole fraudulent spectacle.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.