In My Place

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    People called him crazy
    Said he was probably insane
    But, he sat out there on the edge of town
    And didn’t bother anything

    He kept some girls out in the garden
    And he’d get way out there in space
    And when he did I’d realize
    He was the man who took my place

    Back in 1969
    He fought the war in Vietnam
    And by the time that he come home again
    He was a very different man

    I married his ex wife
    And raised his boy just like my own
    And as I lived my life with his wife and son
    He lived the memories alone

    When the Post Traumatic took its toll
    And he shoved that gun into his face
    Some folks called him crazy
    But he’s the man who took my place

    In my place he walked patrol
    As I held his wife he held the landing zone
    In my place he went to hell
    And Lord, he never should have gone

    If you grew up in the sixties
    There’s a feeling in you time will not erase
    For all of us who didn’t go
    There was someone there who took our place

    I relived my adolescence this week watching a Netflix documentary series about the war in Vietnam. For the record, I had no love for Vietnam. I disliked everyone in it, and I blasphemed their gods. Vietnam loomed over me all the way through high school like a death sentence. If you made it through high school, and frankly most poor white trash like me didn’t, your senior trip was Vietnam. But, when it was over, and the refugees began to arrive at Fort Hood my view mellowed as I saw a people subjected to the same lies I had been subjected to. They were my brothers, and frankly, they weren’t very heavy. Fact is, they wore out water buffaloes to assimilate, unlike those of the wetbackery persuasion. I saw in the documentary one old man who brought his family to America, and they grew up here. His desire was to die, and be buried in his village back in Vietnam, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it because his family was American now, and they wouldn’t understand.

    The war in Vietnam made absolutely no difference in the world. All it did was scar families on both sides of the world. The so-called “Domino” effect never happened, the Soviet Union collapsed any way, and the Chinese didn’t have to take anything from us. We GAVE it to them! The corrupt government of South Vietnam played America like a fiddle, and the day that Saigon fell, and the politicians scrambled for that embassy roof I laughed my country butt off! I’ve never wavered and the Netflix series only re-enforced my animosity toward leaders on both sides lying and stealing. But one thing became abundantly clear to me.

    I believed in America. I waved that flag, sang the National Anthem and believed every word that proceeded from Lyndon Johnson’s lying mouth, just like I did with Nixon, and did with Trump. Well, Johnson lied his ass off to us, but he only THOUGHT he could lie until Nixon came along, and now I’m even looking at Trump with a jaundiced eye.

    It has become fashionable to think of the American people as children who can’t handle the truth. Johnson did order after order, hiding practically everything behind a wall of lies. Nixon tried to strike a deal with South Vietnam to stall off peace talks until after the elections, completely unconcerned about American lives being lost every day.

    And it’s never changed, people! Right now, Robert Mueller is striking his famous report, but he will only let us see what he thinks we can handle. We PAY this fool! This has become Government 101. Ain’t it funny that the more things change, the more they stay the same? And the so-called committees sit up there and causally discuss how dumbed down we’re all going to be! And we sit by like sheep thinking this is perfectly fine. We The People need to remind THESE people that We ARE The People!

    George Washington would have hanged Robert Mueller. And I’d watch and eat buttered popcorn. That’s what you do at a good hanging. Popcorn, piss warm beer, and fried chicken. And everyone applauds as he hits the end of the rope.

    And now we face Venezuela. Sounds like they need a little ”freedom” down there. When will we ever learn? Refer to my previous statement. Venezuela will make about as much difference in history as Vietnam did. If an earthquake destroyed ninety percent of it that would account for about two minutes on the nightly news. That is IF some homosexual TV Star doesn’t hire someone to whip his ass as a race baiting stunt. Hey Joe! You watching from up there? Tell Jesus there’s a bunch of us coming soon!

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    The Butcher Shop is an alternative news source based in the Tea Party Tribune with an eye on God, family, and preservation of America. It is a collection of minds started by Bill the Butcher, a conservative op/ed journalist who began publishing forty years ago. We strive to make the articles informative, entertaining, and diverse. All you see will cause you to stop and consider. We try not to drone on with the same old day after day clap trap that may have driven you away from mainstream media. You will read things here that you will see nowhere else. We are from London to Austin to the Escalanté. So, what’s your cut of meat? Shop around. The Butcher Shop is happy to fill your order.

    1 COMMENT

    1. After reading the two articles, 'Secret Police" and 'Stand Your Ground', I want to put my head down in shame that we have come to this. I want to cry until the rivers swell. Then I feel the waves of anger wash over me. I want to do something, but I don't know what to do. I watch the society I live in fall to pieces. My society, my country, my people. Surely the answer will come to me.

      Who wrote 'Stand Your Ground'? What is the name of the person who wrote in such a lovely poetic way? I am a child of that generation – the one that gave it's boys two choices. Go to college or go to war. Most went to war. I watched them march off, so young, so fresh-faced, trying so hard not to show their fear. Most came back. My brother was one. The youthful look was gone, taken over by hard edges. The eyes were dead. Everyone of them told me that they had died in Nam.I grieved for every one that came back. I could see their lives were over, just going through the motions. We all suffered, everyone of that generation. The lost generation.

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